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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 10, 2009 19:25:20 GMT -6
Rosalind: Rosalind chose to ignore Scotland blustery weather. It was spitting rain and snow, with clouds hanging low in the morning before they were chased out to sea, high gray clouds that spun quickly onward, but still had no end. Ignore or embrace the weather, the lighting would remain the same, and the ladies could only sew for so long before grumbling of headaches and bloody fingers from squinting in the candle light. Sighing, Rosalind closed the book of French poetry she had been reading aloud. "Ah, what a bother," Rosalind announced to the relieved smiles of the women. "Let us find some other trouble." Waiting until the ladies left, she helped the maids clean up the sewing scraps,finding bone needles and sticking them in the spools again, re-assembling the sewing baskets for next time before taking her own leave and beginning her slow rounds through the castle. There were tapestries that needed dusting; Annabella took note of her lady's tasks and would see they were accomplished by the week's end. Rosalind eventually dismissed the girl and continued along on her own, contemplating spending the rest of the day in the chapel, but clearly needing something more exciting than prayer to keep her mind occupied from more pressing issues. Perhaps she would visit the Duchess and her daughter....
Kendrew: What Rosalind thought to do whas what Kendrew had done. Having not yet the chance, though he was within the city, he took a well deserved leave to resume his place in Griffin Castle. His charges had delivered on a promise that captured the attention of a nation. Alas, he was late to be enchanted as the world returned to normal in these last haggling days of winter that beat down after the princess' birth heralded melting snow and premature blossoms. Late as he was to join the affairs of the Aberdeen Household, he was no less enraptured with little Davina. "The guard be as it is set?" He walked now down the hall from the Solarium, the Duchess' favorite place, as well as from those women who sat to listen to harp, sew, or converse. Brom gave a nod of his head while the Lord Guardian stroked the presence of thickening facial hair at want of a blade, but the stubble was not uncomely on him. "Assemble the men, I'd like to see to it the Princess has guard to join her mother n' nursemaid." The General's precaution, Eamonn's precaution was his own now to see solidified.
Rosalind: The body yearned for green, for the rebirth of spring. There was no season quite like spring in Scotland, and after such a bitterly cold winter, any ray of light was warmer than the brightest day in July, any flurry of snow now a great setback in the turning of time. It was no wonder the Duchess preferred the Solarium, with its views of the changing world. As Rosalind approached, her thoughts were entirely abstracted, as thoughts of seasons began to run backward in her mind, and it was easy to imagine the gray light of late winter the chillier cousin of autumn's first rains. She stopped a servant to relay a message for Fearghus, but the servant gave her a puzzled look and hurried along. Perplexed, Rosalind put a halt to her search for the Duchess and Davina and went in search of another servant, preferably one with an explanation for why they were all acting so daft lately. Before she had any answers, a page found her, and having noticeably neither eaten, slept, nor bathed since receiving his message, revealed it was from the castellan of Lanark himself. That thoroughly distracted Rosalind from seeking answers of the servants, and she took her letter into the Solarium to take advantage of the light. Today was a day for distraction, apparently, for whose face did she see as she turned into the room but Kendrew's? She waited for him to catch up before offering her greeting. "Would you have a moment or two to spare, Campbell? I have some news in hand that may interest you."
Kendrew: "Tell the men I will come tae look on 'em before nightfall. I will be here, for some days. Ye've done well Brom. How is your sword arm, good enough tae appease me a practice?" He lifted a hand and gave it a hard pat against his younger comrade's back, with the Norwegian offering a hearty chuckle. "Aye, m'lord." At least a man of arms had his head about him. In the halls with chores to be done, the servants seemed to have glib tongues among themselves but Kendrew had been gone, so knew nothing of the gossip. Where he was coming from the Solarium, a Lady was coming towards it. When the meeting ensued he offered her bow, "Aye, I've time to pass with you, m'lady. What news? Come ye tae tell a man he might lay down his arms? The English 'ave keeled o'er?"
Rosalind: "I wish," she laughed, and led the way within. As rumor's utter victim, she of course had not heard the extent of the lies circulating about her, much less that their unwitting source was her very own handmaiden. Perhaps she would have taken more care. Even though she had no reason to fear her guilt when she was entirely innocent, she knew better than to ignore rumor. There was no recovery from such a trial. "No, this is not news of the English, though I wish it were. It is from Colban Campbell, the man you met at Lanark." She took the letter over to a window and read its contents swiftly. Colban was undoubtedly one of the most intelligent men she had ever had the pleasure of meeting in her life, and like most brilliant men, his handwriting was nearly impossible to read. But after turning the letter this way and that, she smiled. "He has been busy among the Highlanders. He wrote this as he was leaving Sutherland, and he does not know where he will go next. But he says Clan Chattan is in unexpected disarray, and he has his worries about Lady Mary when he visited Fraser some weeks past. Curious."
Kendrew: "Ah me. Ye n' I both my Lady." The natural light in the room of bright windows poured in illumination that crisped the parchment color and intensified the aging ink. News? Clan news was indeed something that Kendrew, a Campbell himself, sat on the proverbial fence. His eyes turned down, a breath taken inward before he followed her back to where he'd been. The Duchess had gone further back into the secondary chamber just off of the room, leaving them alone. "They are havin' to choose sides. Which loyalty is worth preservin', some worth changin. If the Lady Mary has a way tae do so, she should leave that place. They will turn on her, in the end." As the eyes opened he seemed to lack the zeal for this news that Rosalind possessed. He had gone forth to try and take a mantle as tanist among separatists, only to never finish the journey. The scars of it were itching now, scratched by an idle hand. Unlike the Duke and Duchess, no amount of reasoning gave him peace. "Her brother's 'ere. I don't know what this means. Only tha' he should be kept far from the men, n' myself."
Rosalind: "It is too late if he believes to have friends here," she agreed, folding the letter and sliding it into her pocket. She wondered where Colban was now, and if he was safe. No matter Colban's renowned neutrality, clans didn't take lightly to questioning about loyalties. She hoped he put an end to this tinkering and went back to Lanark, where he was reasonably safe. "She is much loved among the Frasers. I do not see them turning on her. But I could see her turning on them." She studied Kendrew quietly, as if taking in his appearance for the first time. "We will see how it ends, I think. We have already done our best to prepare. We cannot ask more of ourselves than that. Whatever happens is in God's provenance, though I suspect, you and I are never content to leave Fate to another's hands." She smiled lightly and took a seat in one of the chairs, though she did not yet relax. "How do you fare, my lord? Is it merely stubble on your face that makes you appear full of worry?"
Kendrew: "Tis no matter o' friendship, it's settling affairs. He's dying, m'lady Rosalind." His face was passive. The death of one whom he'd served long years didn't manufacture things to be read for a man ought not show himself so easily. These things he'd learned, watching as offered mantle from the king he tore off with his own hands, denouncing the very hands that gave him knighthood at Bannockburn Field. "The world is comin' to a head. I will tell you that were it nay for what befell of my sister-by-law, her children, n' m'mother I would have no care for Campbell anythin." Blasphemous! His worry was wrapped in the politics of the crazed. "I have heard and loyalty for my Lady Duchess, but I have seen the temper in her Highland blood n' tha' is enough. Now, e'en parts of life are bein' decided where we are not. It is madness. If a hand bites you, there ought be enough sense to draw it away. If it bites ye twice, ye'll have no hand." He put his hand behind his back and looked to the low fire, stirring it since they remained. "The seperatists still seek their tanist."
Rosalind: "He wishes absolution?" She pressed her lips together in thought. She had not been privy to most of the events at Aberdeen, though she had been present. Her escape had been much more pressing, though in recent months, she had more than picked up on the animosity that went beyond a schism between the Bruce and Skye. What made a man like the Bruce seek to make amends for what now rent Scotland in twain? She shook her head slowly. "You have said you have little care for Campbell. I know....I sympathize, at least. Would not breaking away entirely cause more harm than remaining, I would do so. I think you would, too, but there is still a great deal of good we can do, if the stars align. I despite waiting, and not knowing."
Kendrew: "Tha' is there choice. Nay mine, though leavin' the men tha' served with me is not in my nature, m'lady. As it is not to leave those whom you have vowed, aye? Otherwise bein' here, why would you have such a care? " He arched his eyebrow, appraising her as if for once beginning to see a larger picture. "If yer family was rendered a'twain by mine, why dae fortunes of Campbells mean so much, let alone one givin' you messages? Should ye not be pleased instead, your husband is a war hero." He saved the lif eof the general, but her reaction if honest would confirm or deny a speculation. The pair never supped together if the household ate in the great hall. They never went forth into the streets. "And what you don't know, m'lady, you should strive to find out. I told my lady wife when she was not yet so, that to serve here, in your place, you have a power o' other things."
Rosalind: She smiled again, though it was difficult to say what motivated it. "My husband is a hero, indeed." Certainly, there was nothing amusing about that, save how she came by the information that not all was what it seemed when it came to Fearghus's great rescue of the general. "I care, because I see a future for both of our clans other than complete annihilation. I ... I have had time to consider a few things, while in service to Her Grace, and the conclusion makes sense. But it is reliant upon a few factors. Namely, my survival. If Skye's cause should somehow falter, if I do not give Fearghus the son he requires, I will not survive to see the next year. But, if we are victorious, if Fearghus is somehow ... mollified -- " the pause before the word made her feel something less than human. What sort of wife plotted the doom of her husband? "If there is a sympathetic ear in Clan Campbell, I believe, rather than continue a fight for land generations old, we can achieve something sustainable. A peace treaty that will last far longer than the one I built with Campbell of Lochawe and Domhnall." Her son, if he attained his majority, could hold that treaty. "I would pave the way for the next tanist of Lamont, one agreeable to keeping the peace. That is why I am here, Campbell. That was my vow."
Kendrew: "Sae i tis as I thought, ye are no more in love with him than he is with you. He needs what ye can give him. He is an odd man, on the field. Diligent, but odd. Nay well liked. His men would make the old harlots blush." He paced a slight ways forward before turning to look on her. "Ye ken I don't know a half o' the people that come to honor me? My father, wise man that he was, left the North. He served the tanist once, I' m named for a beloved servant, a good man. Means precious little if what we serve is without truth, n' merit, n' causes. Remember that." He looked to Rosalind as she talked of peace, treaties, of things that she could tell the men found made by made people. "A son will nay mean ye'll leave the year, m'lady. If anythin' ye should be thinking of a way to make sure the man crosses you not. Is he really the necessity ye seek? Is he the answer, in mingling your lives unto another, to your prayers? And what will become of this boy tha' inherits all of this." He lifted his hand as if Inveryne, Campbell lands, Scotland, were around them. "A fight tha' is generations old can nay be solved by a generation that does not yet exist. It's madness, all of this is." Simplistic thoughts manfiested into a sort of intelligence in what he spoke next. "If the Campbells come hence they will have a mighty sanctuary. The Griffin will nay take their lands, but will seek to quell any dissension. What ye should worry of, is to make sure your husband ends up nay on the wrong side o' the Generals or of the Duke 'imself. Our hope tae resolve this foolishness if I must do something with ye, is nay anywhere but here."
Rosalind: "He is crass, but effective," she conceded. "What has love to do with it? He needed the support of the Lady Inveryne, and when I politely declined, he had a room full of armed men and a bought priest at the ready to ensure his victory. When I sought an annulment from His Holiness, I was turned away at the door. What sort of man, do you suppose, has the money to persuade God's representative on Earth, to arm a decayed clan, to fight a war against the King of Scotland?" Her brow rose slowly skyward with ire, but soon relaxed, her expression nothing short of serene. "And so, we are married. I have spent the greater part of the last six months fighting that reality, but I cannot fight it any longer. Fearghus is more trusted than I would like among the troops here, since saving the General. No, it is not enough to fight the attitude his men carry, their swagger, their unkind ways. But it is more than what he had before." She put her hand to her mouth for a moment, slowly turning over his words in her mind before relaxing the hand and folding it in her lap. "What if I told you the generation exists? That it merely needs an environment in which it may flourish? Would you support it? You see, my husband does not intent to remain on Skye when he is no longer needed. He will return to Lamont lands, and he will destroy any Campbell from the Firth of Lorne to Ayr. He does not need to maintain his friendships here; merely, to remain without enemy. He has formed none yet -- save me."
Kendrew: "These games are foolish!" The Lord Guardian's voice was the boom under the Grampian that quaked when he'd been pulled over to the hospitality of Windmill Hill. What ifs, suppositions and alleged possibilities meant little to the reality they faced now. "They are foolish, n' mad things the Highlanders do to amuse themselves and Lowlanders take up when they bore of speakin' English and trying to imagine that Scotland is not a nation of barbarians tha' have no knowledge of God!" He went to the door, and sealed it. " Ye are a servant here, as am I. Thus, I support ye. Ye are esteemed, among the Duchess' company, thus, I support ye. I dun care wot your name is, or whom bore you. Thus, I support ye. But if ye can not see what is before your eyes ye are a foolish, silly girl." He chastised her severely, even admonishing himself for avoidance of what one couldn't avoid. "Tha' time is here, tha' place, is now. Have ye, but once, sought the Duke in all of this, or his wife, tae petition his ear, equal they sit? Do more thn hope you will live and do little more than hide among the people of this castle fer if this foolishness spills into the halls more than it has....Their reign was secured just as Bruce's was, as your own lands, as any. The old order rose up to challenge what was new, Rosalind .Wake up, it is happenin' again." He so stood infront of her. "If the King is here, what do you think your husband will do, if he knows? I am certain he will nay remain hidden for ever, the Pope is with him, n' I have seen them listen to the Duke! Why they would, I do nay know, but I do nay know either why a man who set us free all but sold all we bled on tae the English. Look to the Duke, as we all do. Look to him! " He softened but a little as he shook his head. "We are both stupid, n' foolish. I to think that to live it be, to remain, steadfast in m'loyalty here would make much difference. For these things m'brother is dead, his wife is gone and his children have nay mother. I would loathe to see you, Rosalind, make the same err for being so encased in this madness. All ye may do is to stand up, if ye do that, I will support it." He nodded.
Rosalind: She stood up. She swore she would never use the knowledge of her son in anger, but Kendrew, whether he liked it or not, would factor into her son's survival, and he needed to be aware of that. Her son had no future if they did not start preparing now. "My son is a Lamont and a Campbell, and you may not care his birth or lineage, but a good many in Scotland are not so wise and level-headed as you. I have discussed this with Her Grace. She knows. Fearghus went to the Duke before I was able. What am I to do, Kendrew, that I have not already done? The world believes I betrayed my husband, when all I was only ever faithful to him. You do not care, but others do. So what I do is meaningless, but what my son will do is not. But if he fights alone, then yes, this will be meaningless. I will be mad. All this will be done in vain. I am backed into a corner, Campbell, and I have been in this damned corner for five years. I am used to it." She neatly folded her arms across her chest and glared at him, the insufferable stare of a Norman lady long past her usually infinite patience. Finally, her brow relaxed. "I wish nothing but happiness for you and your lady wife. We can make that happen. I will not be caught at unawares again, and if my plotting makes me more Highlander than sassenach, so be it. There are worse things in this world to happen to a woman than to go native."
Kendrew: "It is to go so far that she forgets herself," He looked at her; the hard stare, the determination was not alien to him for he had seen it in many a woman. Only intensified here. But even she did not know it, did she. "If you were not heard, m'lady, you stand up and n' you speak it again. Your husband reached the Duke first, ye have leave to reach him yourself. If ye use your intrigues for anything, let it be tha'. Robert Bruce will soon be dead, he has given everythin' to Skye. The others speak of it, the higher sort. His reach will extend to Ireland, Wales, England. It will make Fearhgus small by comparison. If the world believes, it believes. Ye do what must be done in the preservation of your honor, your son. What future do ye hope he will do, mixed blood or no? Your name is Rosalind, Lady. Ye were baptized tha', as I was Kendrew. We can not help whom we are born to, only what we do with ourselves. If you can not be heard, then I will help you in that." With the affirmed realization it might cost him his head neck, or the necks of others, to champion both her cause and testament of good character. "My wife wishes a home, and in you, has a friend. These things are both worth standin' fer. The people tha' came here, served under me. They have lost much, in what they have done. In tha', the Campbells will have yet another branch. This is nay all tha' uncommon. To guard my wife, m'family, and those tha' served me I would be a weak man and one who feigns ignorance. So. If your son might one day soothe the betrayed and bring peace to old rifts, then God bless the mother tha' rears him, and the man he shall come to be. We must be wise in preserve the present he flourishes in. As the Tanist o' the West, I will work with Colban. There is no repairin' this rift. I think even he sees that. A man's heart is sore worse when broken, worse than his pride because our heart is where we take that from. Tell Colban he may seek me out. By the time he arrives I will 'ave m'mantle. We are, family, after all." He put a hand to her shoulder, and bid her look to the window. "This is the Skye. When I came o'er with Roric on the boats, we only glanced to it. O'er my time here I look. Have you looked, at it Rosalind? The way the mists curl on the sea, e'en in the gray, such color. Her hills and mountains are as wild as Scotland, but she has a promise, old now tha' her keeper is here again. She lay alone for many years. Hope, is only so far tha' we don't know that it is there."
Rosalind: "Indeed," she said softly, agreement to every word he spoke even as she turned to take in Skye. "I did see it, though it took me time. I was heart broken and angry when I came here, but there is hope, I know. I feel it in me, even when I wish only to despair. Skye does not let you despair long. There is much to do, much to rejoice in, and here, I have found a family that I am happy to include myself amongst. I will not lie. It is hard. Especially since my husband is now a hero." The squires she looked after still portrayed the battle between the giant, the general, and Lamont. They did not know any better, and in retelling, it was a heroic win. "Colban is willing to follow your lead. I know he is waiting for decent leadership, governance by a man whose soul reason for existence is not punishment for a battle that took place so long ago. It is easy to tell others to cease living in the past, but that is what governs these clans, is it not? Memories. I want to live for something else, Campbell, but it took living in Skye to see what that was. The future." She shrugged lightly, a Gallic gesture encompassing a myriad of emotions. "And though I have accepted all this, I wonder still. This money cannot come from Fearghus. I knew the state of Lamont's accounts to the day I left Inveryne. There is no way, even in her glory days, Lamont could finance that man's army, nor influence His Holiness. There is more at work here, but I am afraid -- I am afraid to know what that may be, and why. I shudder to think the two hundred souls lost five years ago are but a pittance to whomever strategizes now. But perhaps I have grown used to seeing ghosts where none have cause to exist. Do not trouble yourself. I worry enough for all of us."
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Post by hotarokaori on Mar 11, 2009 7:41:20 GMT -6
Within the Scholar's Hall, two very engrossed scholars were uncommonly animated as they looked over Nathan Renquest's latest discovery. They simply had no idea what was in store... Nathan: "... According to my sources, foul play was involved directly his death. It was even suggested by the healer that admitted him, but the family would hear none of it. But look, look here! According to him, there was a woman, some local... witch, according to the people, who confessed to it all! She says she supplied him with the herbs, she was promised something in return! Some favor, some.. I don't know, but she's renounced it all in her deathbed. It's a sign, Kaori. I.. I know it's not what you wanted, but it's proof that he's done this kind of thing before. It's a pattern!" He practically jumped at the last part, unable to contain his excitement further.
Kaori: As he spoke she stared at him with a sort of fierce intensity rarely seen. She hung on ever decibel, holding her breath. She was so focused her expression was somewhat hard to read. When he was finished she stared at him silently. After a pause that was at least ten seconds long, she said, "Not what I wanted..?" Her hands jumped out, grabbed his collar, pulled him down to her level and gave him a kiss right on his cheek! "Nathan, this is brilliant," she exclaimed, her cheeks high with color. The red in her cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with excitement! "Nathan, this very well may be the onset... This may be the first attack! The one that would begin an entire career out of murder!" She started to pace... How could she have missed a brother?! "This is perfect! Of course, of course... An older brother would have been in his way and he made a living out of cutting down anyone in his way!" She laughed suddenly, looking at the work on the small table she was using as if it was so much rubbish. Nathan had produced a gem. (d)
Nathan: Well that was a surprise. Sufficed to say, Nathan was used to a certain amount of behavior with Scholars. It was fair to say they were generally a stuffy lot and, in the face of Nate's excitement, would be at best patient to ignore it or worst been irritated by it. Whatever he expected, it wasn't for the exotic little woman to pull him down and plant one on his cheek, and his entire face flushed bright red--and it was most certainly not entirely excitement that colored them. "Uh... Oh.. I mean... I wouldn't have thought to look otherwise." He rubbed the back of his head subtly, looking decidedly sheepish in the face of her own exuberance. "But that's precisely what I thought. She's still alive, so if someone is sent quickly they might be able to get the confession from her personally." he added eagerly enough. "I have the place where it happened if you need it, of course, and anything else you need." to which he'd begin shuffling papers and the like to help her out, not quite looking at her still suffering from meek embarrassment. And as it would happen, that's the glance that would catch a flicker of movement. He blinked once, suddenly befuddled. He could have sworn they were alone...
Kaori: She was still laughing to herself, the smile on her face glowing as if it was the best bit of news she had received in weeks. She even flashed her smile to the Colonel, but he wasn't exactly the type to show his emotions. "Oh, of course! I can visit her directly tomorrow. Gads, come with me if you like!" She started to pace, her eyes on the ground. "Nathan, you are a bloody gift from Heaven!" She had been thinking that the killings had began much later in his life. To discover that he had started in his youth made so much more sense... It was something he would find easy after undoing his own brother! She looked up at him and seeing his expression, her own head canted to the side slightly. "What?" she asked curiously, following his eyes. (d)
Nathan: "I thought I..." he blinked lightly a few times, a curious expression sweeping over his face. it really shouldn't be so unusual. "Must have been nothing." Which was because 'nothing' had relocated, slipped outside. Nate's head bowed slightly back to the work, but Kaori would catch the glimpse of it. The figure, swathed in the robes of fellow scholars but a head taller, faintly larger than the others, a ragged scar along his cheek, watched the two... and raised a crossbow, aimed squarely at the young scholar. an instant later and neither one of them would have been able to react--one of them would have been dead.
Kaori: Nothing? Kaori's eyes didn't often catch details, but she could see when something was out of place. That man? The one with the bloody crossbow? He was out of place. "NATHAN!" the scream left her mouth and a moment later she was flinging herself against him so hard that he easily would have lost his balance and brought them both to the ground. If it hurt Kaori she didn't seem to notice. Had she heard that arrow loose from the crossbow? It didn't matter. What mattered was who that man was and why he was trying to kill Nathan... Or was he trying to kill them both? Eliminate Nathan first as he was most likely the larger threat... In a flash she had rolled off of him and moved to her feet, quickly grabbing the polished walking stick in the corner of the room. "Get back, get back!" she hissed at him, trying to get him back toward the wall. She was taking deep breaths, trying to steady herself and not tremble... not yet. The priorities? Make sure Nathan was in a safer position and then get a fix on the attacker's location. If he was to approach she'd need to look frightened, as if the walking stick was the best weapon she could find, pathetic as it was... (d)
Nathan: The Assassin was gone as soon as he fired, the bolt passing through the empty air the Scholar occupied, knocked over by the small woman with an alarmed cry, before his world was in chaos. for poor Nate it was terrifying--he saw the arrow embedded into the wall, heard the frantic cries of the woman desperate to push him back, only following her directions through some animal terror. The figure slipped between the halls of the books in the confusion, using what cover he could, gone from view. He would strike only when her eyes were off him, textbook and fast but vastly underestimating the woman's resources. When Nathan noticed her he cried out, but the man was already on him, a long blade in his hands, arc'd towards the woman savagely. He assumed the fear was legitimate, the fool thinking that simply a woman would pose no threat, nor would some bookworm. "Kaori!" the man's face was cold, without emotion, a professional despite his nature... and his eyes were fixed on Kaori. it appeared he had reassessed which one of them was the threat, and Nathan wasn't it.
Kaori: The world slowed down. Everything was happening so fast, but Kaori had time enough to react. She had given him something that he would have wanted to see. Real fear. For a split second she let it in, let it shown on her face and let her hands shake. Thankfully, however, this man had seen her reaction to his first attack, and she was now his focus. That was what she needed. As soon as the sword was seen, Kaori's very demeanor changed. The fear vanished from her face, and the lady who was so full of smiles and vivacity was no more. There was no expression, just a blank slate. The walking stick met the first blow of the sword, deflecting it, and was back again to meet the counter. Her left hand suddenly pulled away the sheath of her disguised wakizashi, and it was fortunate that the man hadn't expected her to deflect one attack, much less two. And underestimation was not a tool she was too proud to use. Before he could recover from his shock, her own blade swung in an arc, her face seemingly unfazed at the prospect of a kill as her sword's tip moved right for his abdomen at an upward angle to destroy as much as it possibly could upon its entry. (d)
Nathan: The assassin was not about to give up without a fight however. The parry was met with an expression of surprise, but he reacted quickly enough, the blade deflected and brought parallel defensively to the strike. There was no denying his professional ability--he stopped the blade an inch away from a killing blow before savagely lashing out, striking out viciously to catch her right in the nose with a part of his head. It was a warriors were seldom ready for, at least novices, too reliant on the use of the weapon, trying to put her off balance so he could swing again--assuming of course she took the first one so easily. Nathan himself was forced to watch, aghast and horrified by what was happening, unsure of how to react or even help. The poor lad was rooted on the spot, a chance to be a 'hero' of sorts and he had no idea what to do. He was suitably amazed by the blade--he couldn't believe that Kaori would be armed! and that weapon, he'd never seen one like it before! Suddenly the vivacious woman he knew was like a warrior, cold and unfeeling. He wouldn't have believed it possible.
Kaori: No. A novice would have been horribly unprepared. Blood would have left her nose, she would have been dazed for more than enough time for the sword to strike home. But Kaori was no novice. For the moment, though she would never call herself one, she was a samurai. She bent backward easily as if she anticipated the cheap move, and using the sheath of her sword, she rapidly swept in downward to move his blade out of her way. She wasn't defending herself but trying to eliminate the threat that was out to kill both she and her friend. Again, her sword arm was right back in place this time trying to enter his body from an upward angle, her arms moving far more swiftly. She had never been trained to fight as a European, and she relied on speed over strength. With the assassin, she knew her only advantage would be moving more quickly than he. (d)
Nathan: The assassin was put on the defensive now, gritting his teeth and backpedaling swiftly to try and put distance between them, buy time between the blows. The second strike came again and with a grunt he was forced to deflect it, clearly liking the odds even less. He wasn't dealing with some girl here, she was a damned swordswoman! grimacing as the force of her strike, the speed knocked him off balance. By now Nate was moving as well, trying to put some distance between the two of them, and that was precisely what would either kill him or give Kaori the move she needed. Seeing the flicker of movement, the swordsman lashed out intent on cutting deeply into the scholar's chest, but in doing so he took his eyes off Kaori, if only a second. If she didn't move swiftly enough, Nathan would be either wounded or dead, if she moved to protect him, she might be put crucially off-balance. There was a split second to react, to choose. Question is, which tact would Kaori take?
Kaori: There was no satisfaction as she gained the upper hand. There would be no satisfaction until the man was dead. Moving his focus to Nathan, however? That would be a huge mistake. Seeing the man's tactic change, she wondered if he had a suicide wish or if he was hoping Kaori would be unable to defend her friend and protect herself. There was no choice to be made. Nathan's life was just as important as her own, and she would defend him just as well as herself. She was using the sheath as well as the sword now, the sheath hollow, but good and sturdy as it really did function as a walking stick. If it broke she didn't care, as long as both she and Nathan escaped with their lives. Pivoting on her foot, she used her left hand to try and alter the strike of his blade, meeting it with the sheath before it could reach Nathan. At the same time, her sword arm would swing up and around, aiming for his neck, his back, wherever she could plant the cursed blade and stop this monster from ever taking another innocent life again. At this point... she didn't even care if the cost was her own life as long as he was stopped. (d)
Nathan: And at that, the Assassin finally slipped. Nate practically jumped at the blade that nearly impaled him, deflected by her blow, but th second strike found no defense, it impaled neatly and splashed warm blood over the poor lad. The assassin went rigid, stumbled, and fell to the ground a moment later, his long blade clattering to the ground, with poor Nate scrambling away from the corpse, to Kaori's side, making an undignified show of grasping at her arm in horror, his expression white as a ghost. Silence fell over the hall as the blood pooled around their feet, and Nate watched, breathless, as it spread. For the longest time he found no place to sleep, just sort of stared at Kaori, half in wonder, half in fear--not of her, but of the violence of what had just happened. His mouth moved but no words formed. He didn't even realize he was shaking, now. He suddenly felt very small--small and very stupid. He almost asked if she was alright, but in the face of it seemed a foolish thing to ask, and so he fell silent, peering at the body again. "God... god he's.. he's dead."
Kaori: Kay was breathing very rapidly, and it happened slowly. Her face went from that blank, expressionless creature to that of the Kaori he knew. Only she wasn't smiling. She was very serious. Gasping, she started to step back from the pool of blood, quickly trying to resheath the blade, but finding it too damaged to slide all the way in. She ran a few paces back, carefully set down her sword and moved to Nathan, gently taking his arm and pulling him back. "It was him or us, Nathan. Come away..." She was surprisingly gentle as she spoke, her hands obviously trembling now that it was all said and done. "Come away, Dearest..." she repeated, not wanting him to focus on the gruesome sight before them. "We need to fetch help." She was watching him carefully, as if worried he may not be all right after what just happened. (d)
Nathan: It took him a moment to break his gaze away from them, though he wouldn't let loose his deathgrip from the sleeve of the woman's robe, and seeing her own horror had taken the edge off his earlier fear. "R...You're right. You're right. L..Let's go." he said, but made no move to let go of her. Truth be told, he hadn't even realized it, the poor lot. He'd follow her almost mechanically than. To his credit, he was desperately trying to hold together, even in the face of such violence, but for a lad who had grown up in a monastery, saw violence only second or third hand, it was a damn sight harder than one would imagine. So much for the swashbuckling hero he wanted so badly to be, the poor lad was clearly shocked by all this.
Kaori: If Kaori minded the way he clung to her, there would be no evidence of it. On the contrary, she stood closer to him, walking carefully and letting him take as much comfort in her presence as he could. In truth... she was doing quite the same thing. That hadn't been easy for her, it had been mechanic. Now that it was all over? It was positively terrifying. A hero? Kaori hadn't wanted to be a hero? She had wanted to live. She had wanted Nathan to live. In many ways Nathan was already her hero, and he didn't need any swords or finesse to earn the title. Seeing a guard, she quickly shouted for his attention. "Oi!" That was eloquent. Yes or no, it did the trick. The guard looked and started to walk toward them, but seeing the blood on Nathan he started to run, looking alarmed. "The Scholar's Hall... An assassin tried to kill us..." she managed to stammer out. "Please, we need help." She leaned against Nathan as the guard started to scan the area for assistance so one person could stay with the duo and another could check out the High Scholar's claim. Obviously someone was injured or dead, as evident by the blood on poor Nathan and a bit on Kay's dress. (d)
Nathan: Hero or coward, shaken though he was, he wasn't inhuman. The shock still clung to the edges of him, forcing his thoughts inward, but the subtle pressure of the woman at his side was enough to force his attention away from it. He looked to her a moment, frowning slightly as he, albeit reluctantly pulled an arm across the woman's shoulder, uncertain of the impropriety of it, but given what they had endured? it seemed only fitting. "K..Kaori...?" he wanted to say thank you, or are you alright?" but his throat felt dry, and he found only the strength to squeeze her shoulders reassuringly. Of course, when the two would be secured mere moments later. The guard would return, with others, and insist the pair of them get to safety lest the man have an accomplice. Nathan would never leave her side till then, but a search of the hall was incredibly likely. Slowly but surely, Nathan was working towards adapting to the situation... he was still terrified, but his concern was far more for his friend than himself, and he urged along with her, trying desperately to quell his own trembles.
Kaori: When his arm moved around her shoulders, she was relieved. There was some comfort in that. Kaori was a stickler for propriety and a careful student of its practice... to an extent. When she crossed the threshold from acquaintance to friend, propriety was often discarded. She was glad to have his arm around him, and her opposite arm reached around to hug him around the middle if only for a few seconds. Propriety? All things considered, what they had just shared left propriety behind. She was numbly going through the motions as the guards worked at assisting them, bringing them "someplace safe." Kaori insisted on the kitchen, her arms starting to feel sore from the blows and the exertion. Once there, she directed Nathan to a seat and moved to the basin. She returned with a wet cloth and pulled a chair so she was sitting across from him. Whatever blood was on his face or hand or skin... She'd gently start to clean away. "Are you okay?" she asked. She was doing her damnedest to find some sort of employment to keep her mind from what she had just done and what he had just seen... Before the interrogations that were sure to come could begin. Realizing she never really answered her own question, she said, "I will be well. I think." (d)
Nathan: The poor lad was almost childish now, much as he tried to comfort her. He answered what he could, best to his ability anyway, before being shuffled off to the kitchen, sitting where he was told, only watching her, not sure if he should be tending to her. He felt foolish for her fussing over him, honestly, it was the opposite of what was, but there was some sense she drew some comfort in it--though the poor boy flushed terribly when she gingerly swept the blood from his face, feeling both terribly young and awkward all over again. "I... I.. yes, yes, Kaori I'm fine.. honest. I'm... I'm fine." it was another kind of funny fear, but he wanted her to know that he felt little had changed between them--that he could look her in the eye after all this. "I mean... I mean I am thanks to you. I'm just sorry I couldn't.. that I didn't." Poor Nate. "I'm sorry," he said again, letting his gaze fall briefly away from her, tensing subtly. A chance for heroics and instead he was a complete coward. God, what if she had been hurt or worse? he wouldn't have forgiven himself for that moment. the fact was, these few moments would doubtless haunt Nate for a long time, the closest he ever really came to death, but he would simply have to deal with in time. Kaori: She really didn't mean to tend to him as if he were a child. She tended to him as if he were a man and she were a woman, years of tradition ingrained within her. She was watching him closely and suddenly the realization of what he was feeling slapped her in the face with such suddenness her hand froze. She sighed, stood and set down the cloth. She then pulled the chair so it was almost directly next to his before seating herself again. She then leaned forward and pulled him to her hugging him tightly.
Sadly enough, when all was said and done, a lot had changed for both Kaori and Nathan. Kaori had believed she was safe behind her books and parchment while Nathan had never experienced violence of this magnitude first-hand. Whatever coping mechanisms the two might devise to get over their attack, there was no question it would be a difficult climb. What they could rely on, however, was each other's friendship. There were a few things in the world a duo could endure and have to emerge closer friends, and surviving an assassination attempt was one of them.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 11, 2009 11:15:11 GMT -6
I almost think we’re all of us ghosts, Pastor Manders. It’s not only what we have inherited from our father and mother that “walks” in us. It’s all sorts of dead ideas, and lifeless old beliefs, and so forth. They have no vitality, but they cling to us all the same, and we can’t get rid of them. Whenever I take up a newspaper, I seem to see ghosts gliding between the lines. There must be ghosts all the country over, as thick as the sand of the sea. And then we are, one and all, so pitifully afraid of the light.
- Henrik Ibsen (1828–1906), Ghosts
[/right][/blockquote] _______________________________
"I do not ask vengeance. I do not seek retribution. Such things are a vanity, and I am not a vain woman. I am afraid, though. I am afraid for the soul of your servant, Domhnall. And of the child who may not see a life beyond four stone walls. I do not wish to fail, but something has changed, and I know not what. I awoke to a different world, and I am so afraid. I am so afraid. I am only mortal, O Lord, and I cannot protect what You have given me to protect. I do not forget Your graces. I do not forget anything. Please, make me firm to this challenge. Guide me to a just and righteous solution. Have mercy on Clan Lamont. I remain your most humble and obedient servant. Amen." She kissed the beads of her rosary, her eyes closing against the soft candlelight warming the darkness in the chapel. For a moment, she felt her heart lighten, the burdens she carried easing long enough that she might catch her breath again, square her shoulders, and carry on. There was value far greater than gold and jewels in learning to let go, to yield responsibility in matters already beyond her control. She did not forget the truth. She did not re-write history in her favor. Convincing Fearghus would change nothing. After all the battles and the wars, she was still the Lady Inveryne, and the future was yet to be written. Rosalind gained her feet and left as quietly as she arrived. The torches burned brightly against the darkness of the midnight hallways of Griffin Castle, but loneliness crept around every corner. Dread haunted her nightmares, even while her days were filled with the excitement of court, and laughter was never far off in the training of the young squires. Her mind was usually occupied with the new French books and poetry, and there were dances to organize and events to coordinate, all tasks to accomplish on a list of distractions. She was not thinking about the next day as she made her way back to their rooms. She did not expect to see anyone at this late hour, but of course, her luck was so notoriously abysmal, she should have counted on meeting someone. He was waiting in the shadowed halls. His presence was unexpected, enough that a chill ran across her flesh. She turned back down the corridor and pressed her back to the cold stone wall, dropping her head into her hand and taking a deep breath, hoping that despite facing him dead on, he had failed to see her. She soon heard voices, though the words were indistinguishable, echoey in the distance. He was walking closer, and then away, passing back toward the great hall. She looked up, hardly realizing her left hand had found her rosary, and was squeezing the silver crucifix so hard, it would leave an imprint of the Lord embedded in the soft flesh between thumb and palm. The breath caught in her chest suddenly begged release. She exhaled softly, only to suck the air back in again as she was shoved abruptly against the wall. Her head knocked against the stones, causing her to bite her tongue, and uneven wall dug into her back. In that dizzying moment, she wondered if Domhnall had not come back from the dead, only to have her better sense of logic inform her that Domhnall was nearly five years in the grave. This was no vengeance-seeking ghost. It was something much worse. "Did you pray for our son?" Fearghus asked. He was drunk, though he would appear sober to any other eyes. Pupils slightly dilated, old ale on his breath, he nevertheless had an intensity about him his elder brother had lacked. He held her pinned to the wall with one arm, elbow so nearly jammed into her throat, if he held her any higher, she would have passed out. Her vision still swam, torchlight and shadow making him Domhnall and then not, familiar and stranger. "I did," she responded. She felt herself falling, though she remained perfectly still. "I did, my lord. Everyday." Fearghus leaned closer, the fumes ripe on his breath, his eyes slowly focusing on her own. He could walk a straight line, though it was by sheer genetics that he was not passed out cold on the floor. "My brother was not as fertile as I am. You'll give me a son, though many say you cannot." He paused, canted his head as if he heard his name spoken elsewhere in the castle, before he slowly returned to her, shoving her abruptly against the stones again and jarring her head on the wall. His arm had wedged her head back, constricting the muscles of her throat, and causing her vision to narrow to but a single prick of torchlight. The air around her swam with the scent of him -- of male, old ale, horse, the oak notes of whisky. "You'll give me a son."He released her. The points on her body reacted with immediate pain, radiating in a slow burn from throat to stomach, while her hand went to the pocket concealing the thin stiletto among the brocade of her gown. Most ladies of the Duchess's court were so armed since the Prince's abduction, but few were as experienced in the dagger's use as Rosalind. She recalled Colban's letter to her, when he had instructed her on its use five years ago. "When they come, Rosie, you stick them. Here. And here. And for God's sake, do not stick me." Her story and the biblical Jezebel's differed profoundly in that while Jezebel painted herself to meet her death, Rosalind armed herself. He looked confused, temporarily disoriented. Perhaps he wondered if he had taken a wrong turn on the way to the great hall, and finding instead the sobering reality of his wife, dressed in a widow's clothing, all her secrets hidden behind uncompromising hazel eyes. Why did she not show fear? Why was she not meek? What had remained of this Jezebel was considerably more than a grinning skull. "How do you know such things about your brother?" she asked softly, the shadows swimming closer, swallowing Fearghus and leaving Domhnall's ghost, his brow furrowed in thought or grief, his eyes the tumultuous dark of a lost soul's. Her heart became small in the cavity of her breast, and she clung to the stones of the wall behind her for balance. "You mentioned it before, in the wood, when you proposed marriage. How could you know?" Fearghus stepped back into the light of the nearby sconce. "We all knew. I was the only one -- I did.... Christ's wounds, woman, and your damned questions!" He ran a hand through his thick head of hair before leveling a look on her without actually looking at her. From his pocket, he took another swig of his drink, corked the flask, and then continued on his way toward the Great Hall. She eased her grip on the stiletto, and quietly put her sore head to rest against the stones, her eyes beseaching a God whom she was coming to believe had no sympathy for the devout. She slid slowly down the wall, her hand easing its grip on the stiletto until it dropped to the floor, firelight shining on the braided metal twining up the leather grip. "Oh, Fearghus," she whispered. "Oh, Fearghus, what did you do? What did you do?"[/font][/color]
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Post by Lord Admiral Jack Flynn on Mar 11, 2009 12:10:40 GMT -6
CaptainJackFlynn: For the first time in two months, the citizenry of Tarus Lan had gathered along the waterfront to experience one of the greatest sights of pageantry and awe that the capital had ever borne witness to: the Griffin Fleet making sail. Almost as one, the various warships began to unfurl their sails and raise to the Sky the bright blazons of no only the city of Tarus Lan, but the ebon and glit flags of the Griffin Court. There was little doubt that the Griffin Fleet was a hodgepodge of ships. Beside the great warships - such as The Echtra and The Highland Duchess - sailed other ships. The bulk of the fleet was filled by carrack, armed merchant caravels, and others. There also sailed the private ships that had taken the up the letter of marquee and reprisal. And others yet, who had sailed due to the Admiralty Court's verdict: sail for the Griffin Fleet, or hang. Was this stately, but motley, fleet a match for distant, thin, black horseshoe that sealed of Tarus Lan? The horse shoe that was the British fleet? As the Griffin Fleet slowly began to spread out into a line, three small ships slowly took up the lead. Would it be commented on by those who watched on the lands? What would they make of it, when the three ships began to issue forth smoke -- and flames that danced to the sky itself? These three ships were the first weapons the Griffin would loose upon the English: they were fire ships. One of the most feared weapons of war. And yet, fire was not the only threat from these ships.... As the ships closed range, as the British line slowly broke to avoid the fire ships, there would a spectacular sight: the three ships exploded in balls of flame. Their decks had been stuffed with weapons of the Arabs and the Chinamen: barrels that had been filled with broad head and bodkin arrows rained death on the English, even as the guts of the ships were sundered. Unleashing three beehives of madly corkscrewing and unpredictable rockets. (d)
AIendral: From the shore, the Spymaster watched, his fists clenched as he saw the menagerie of ships that constituted Skye's fleet. It was one of the hardest things to suffer, a Spy and servant of the Crown, to known that for all his energy spent would spare no lives today. In some ways, the fate of Skye was totally out of his hands. the man Alexander knew many things. He knew the might of the English Navy, the fury of their ships. He knew of the weakness of some--the petty politics that may see inexperienced Captains serving in vessels they didn't belong in, but also knew of the stern Captains that have fought many a battle. He knew that, for a place like Skye, the battle at sea may very well decide the course of the war itself, and he knew that all he could do was watch. He found himself muttering an old prayer, and stopped himself in mid-phrase, narrowing his eyes and forcing his hands into his pockets so as to have a place for them. He did know the name of the Admiral in charge--an oversight on his part, but he hoped the man, whoever he was, could stem the tide. For all his efforts--all their efforts would be for naught, if he fell here.
CaptainJackFlynn: As the smoke from the fire ships cleared, the Irishman cackled as though he were one of the dark fae. Jack Flynn, the Lord Admiral of the Griffin Fleet, turned toward his adjuncts. There was a wicked smile upon his features, as he issued the first two orders of the war: "Master D'Almeida.... pipe us away!" There was something feral about him, as he turned back to regard the British fleet that was waiting. "An' run out the guns!" As The Echtra lead, the rest of the fleet followed. One ship after another ran out it's guns, whether they were the smooth bores that had joined with or bore upon them the devastatingly accurate rifled cannons that the Duke had commissioned. As the Griffin Fleet closed the distance, slowly the fleet began to turn. With the watching crowd and the wailing of Irish and Scottish war pipes, it could easily be thought that the fleets to engage in a dance. In truth, the two fleets were slowly turning. They were beginning to turn, they were positing themselves to unleash the furious storm of shot and shell of the broadside. (d)
Of Sea And Sword: Marcos would watch from the deck of his own ship, La Nereida. His crew hard at work doing the many things it took to make such a ship sail like she did. Each man having his duty down like second nature, those that were as still as statue waiting on baited breath to do as commanded. As Marcos both saw and heard the guns of the other Griffin Fleet ships ready and prepare, he gave out his own orders. Sending his men into a well organized team of preparing sailors. Pulley systems, ropes, the thudding of feet all making the sounds that would become a symphony of battle like many others here today. Marcos knew the plans, knew what to watch for, listen for and did just as Flynn had wanted the Griffin Fleet to do. Each ship on the ready and preparing to give the English what they came calling for. A fight... a fight the Spanish Captain was eager to be in. He was not Irish, nor Scottish, but the Spanish could prove to be just as fierce. <d
Set In Her Way: "Ye look as though all the world hangs on the sea, Master Sorschal," How strange was the voice behind him being heard on the shoreline where the sounds of booming guns and splintering wood were the spectator's event of the season? perhaps for the only time in her young life, the Duchess surrendered her daughter, knowing she was safe, for the knowledge that the fleet would plow through the baracades. The sea was a siren that called even the weak of heart today. Beathag's was strong, through the advantage of a spyglass she saw three pieces of it sailing: The Highland Duchess, Aberdeen, and Empress were the trail of a life long ago now fashioned for grander days of glory. "But ye needn't look sae peaky. The sea is our life's blood 'ere. The sea, we rise on at all costs. But there is more tae rise for, isn't there?" Strands of hair dallied over green gaze that took on the ambient coasts at the water's edge. People had bid goodbye to their loved ones for a little while, some, perhaps forever. To stand in the throng of the, living, unafraid. To feel the life so long she'd been kept away from was an odd balm that soothed the little ache that always remained in land bound sea lovers (d)
Aequitas Fortis: As the ships had lefts its port, William watched from the English flagship. He had not expected a move by the Griffin fleet for yet another week... Then a flash erupted in the telescope... "Fire ships Captain..." he bellowed in his highest bass voice. "Aye M'Lord... I am well aware of the old school... and I too have response..." then he raised his arm and commands from below decks could be heard...lowering his arm, other orders spread thru the ship... "On the down roll... aim below the water line.... FIRE!!! the new cannon, belched as the ship rolled to its left, the port side dipping in a wave, slicing thru it... just as the ship dipped heavy left... two rows of cannon fired almost simultaneously... Alternating the wheel, to round the corner of the turn... the ships near the flagship imitated fire... spitting lead balls toward the fire ships... The flagship crew worked the riggings, William ordered the Maubrey red bull flags unfurled... Far to his left, a ship exploded with a resounding thunder... one of the fire ships had slammed into a frigate... the ship exploding... no mercy aboard as the gunpowder in its belly exploded with a force that sent small fire balls and piece of planks in all directions... "She's running out her guns Cap'n..." a voice rang out... Turn her into the wind Mr Potts... pull the Hermitage out of range... signal the Antilles to plug the hole... bring up the Irish.. lets see how this Griffin Admiral does against brothers..." the salty dog Captain " Aye Cap'n..." the man turning and barking the Captains orders... Two more ships were afire... three in less than one hour... William snarled at the Griffin accuracy... William watched as the Irish Fleet moved toward the English... the Spanish taking a flanking position in support of the English... With Portugal and Castille siding with Skye, William was able to convince the Spaniards to side with his King... for once... The dance of the embattled sea creatures began to take shape... The choke hold he had upon Turas Lan had little effect it seemed upon the navy... but where did that Aberdeen get the new rifled cannon so fast.... and the bull cursed. William listened... seems he had made a good choice... this Captain will save the flagship and use others first...:::::::::
AIendral: "So it is, Duchess." he replied, trying to find comfort in her conviction, though he only partially turnd to look to her. The woman was the most dangerous kind of Duchess, and among her many fears she could see right through him. He heard the distant sound of cannonade, the start of the conflict, and he hesitated in his reply. "War is a fragile thing, Duchess, as I am sure it weighs on you. Any one slip can bring it all tumbling to its end. Even in confidence, it can be.. harrowing." he stepped back a moment and frowned. but perhaps it was his own trials that he was worried on, though he dare not speak his doubts to her. "I know well of the English Navy, Duchess.They will not make this an easy fight, I can promise you as much."
CaptainJackFlynn: Let the English be cowed by the spirit of the Gaelic Nations, let them be in awe of war-forged kinship! There was no doubt that the English heard the cry from the shore! "Huzzah!" Came the cry from the crowd, "Huzzah! First blood to the Griffin! Huzzah!" It seemed as though the very crowd itself was trying to drown out the discontent that would even dare speak the heresy of defeat. While upon his ship, the Irishman cursed. "Damnation!" He swore, "The Wild Hunt take that man, he aims to flee!" Even with the deafening sound of cannonade, with vision obscured by the bellowing smoke, even the one-eyed man could see the outline of the HMS Hermitage making for the safety of it's distant ports. Jack spun amidst the lesser officers and attendants that saw to the needs of running a warship. He bellowed up at the master of the tops: "Let every inch of canvas fly! I will not loose that ship!" High in the rigging, the men of the tops went to the task. More and more sail was unfurled as The Echtra strove to close the distance between its opposite number. Even as it sailed toward a destined course with the HMS Antilles. As the ship made for the fate that had been dogging it ever since its keel had been laid, one of the midshipman called, "Cap'n!" The Irishman turned, bounding up to the stern castle. Once he was there, the junior wardroom officers and the midshipman were waiting. The midshipman pointed out across the waves, "Sir, they send in their reserves....." The midshipman down cast his eyes, "They're Irish ships, sir....." For a brief moment, the Irishman was thunderstruck. The Irishman raised his spyglass, slowly, as he observed the Irish ships coming to the fray. ".... Aye," Jack said softly, "I see 'em....." Aye, indeed he did. Slowly, he began to mumble the name of each captain or clan that the English had press-ganged into their war. Then he stopped. "Master Wu!" The Chinaman stepped forward. Jack turned to him, lowering his voice. "Go and fetch for me the old banner, aye? The one that we sailed with in times past? Bring it forth! We shall honor my home....." The Chinaman nodded, before heading into the Captain's cabins. Then the Irishman had his attention diverted, "That fool makes to block our way!" Jack went to the helm, and bellowed, "Turn like the devil, man! We'll need to be sideways to engage her full!" The distance between the HMS Antilles was closing. Behind the Lord Admiral, Master Wu began raising an old ensign. An ensign that was of a green field, worked through with a pattern of silver shamrocks. On one side, the war banner bore an uncrowned harp with a banner declaring "Eirin Go Bray!" - "Ireland forever!" - and on the other, had the coat of arms of a fallen ceannfort. It was likely that the Captain of the HMS Antilles never saw his reserves flatter, confused. (d)
Of Sea And Sword: As La Nereida gained distance, Marcos would spot something that would be wounding to him personally. For his homeland had sided with the English it seemed. How he had wished things had worked out differently. But, come what may. As with all battles and wars, it made people turn against one another.Each of course having their reasons. Marcos lowered his spyglass, sighing and his men who knew how this would effect him, began to question whether or not the Spanish Captain would fire upon his own people. They would not receive orders to make them think otherwise. They were who they were, and Marcos would yell to clarify things. "Si ellos no defienden Skye, nosotros los quitamos!" ( If they do not defend Skye, we take them down!) The men nodded, each going back to what they had been doing had they need to pause. "Senor Colin! Raise the ole flag! We will show them they have sided with the wrong man!" Colin was quick to obey his Captain's orders. They newer members of his crew would of course worry this would now make them a target.. not just because they were for Skye, but because of the Spanish Flag Marcos ordered to be set free. This Captain had a point to make... and so it was clearly seen now as his ole Spanish Flag now whipped within the winds along side of the black and gold for the Griffin.<d
Set In Her Way: "O'course. The English navy 'as been outfitted constantly, kept upward now as the years gae by fer tis a sea fairin' nation. Would make sense given it, n all Celts beh islands, fer the most part." The English supremacy was being at once uplifted and tested against the resourcefulness and clever wit of the Griffin. The spy glass was turned over in her hands. "Scotland's been at war all m'life, war itself does nay make meh nervous anymore. There's precious little ah 'avent seen, done, nor had done tae me." Bluntly stated, Beathag looked to the Englishmen as his fellows were trying to stop the blockade from being beseiged. Move after move, strike after counterstrike, the sea-wise woman doubled back in mute amazement at the determination each side possesed. The English recruiting the Spanish! The Irish press-ganged into English service which bordered frail the Skye-Irish Gaul alliances that were the work of a place now dead and gone of freedom. "It be who is behind the ship wheels tha' be worth 'teeterin' on edges. Everythin' makes nay fookin' sense on this water. Tha's the part tha' is frightnin'. Ye know the Spanish 'ave a love fer the Inquisistion..." Carried on most spanish ships if only for the priests on them. Castile and Portugal rallied on beside the Griffin, her eyes beginning to peel out for the Lord Admiral's vessel. (d)
Aequitas Fortis: Captain Parmitree of the HMS Antilles was eager for the fight... he had been successful in many battles... he was young, experienced and eager to rise in rank... Lord Maubrey provided him that opportunity. "Mr. Osborn, tack to position on that flagship..." as he points to the Griffin ship known as the Echtra... "Mr Samuals... run the guns out..." The Antilles ran past a brand new ship of the Griffin fleet, ripping her hulls as they passed... chain shot ripped the masts and grapeshot riddled the decks... Three 22 pounders ripped a gaping hole in her ports side... Captain Parmitree smiled wickedly and saluted the sinking ship as they passed on their way toward the Echtra.... "Once again Mr Osborn... tack to get the roll... Now Mr Samuals... the guns were rearmed and pushed thru the ports... the shipboard trebuckets and ballistas began to fling balls of fire toward the Echtra... "Now Mr Thompson..." the trebucket and ballistas fired, now ere being pushed overboard for more speed... the Antilles Captain ready to broadside the swift Echtra.... Just as the Echtra was unfurling all her sails to go after the English flagship HMS Hermitage... Parmitree smirked as he came from the smoke of the distant fireship, right next to the Echtra... but he was confused to find yet an odd flag... A Flag of Stories... stories he had heard... Fire Mr Samuals... all bores..." and with a responding thunder, the cannon belched smoke and fire... and spat death... Chain shot chewed at the masts of the Echtra... grapeshot sent piercing hot metal into men's flesh, chewing and spilling the blood of its target... and the 22 pounders rang true... The Echtra now had a wound in her side... just above the port waterline... "Off course Mr Osborn... sail toward the Irish allied lines... the Echtra is done... should she turn left, she'll take on water...she'll be lucky to make port..." And as the Antilles sailed for the Irish... it was soon evident that fate had taken a turn... and the Antilles and Captain Parmitree could do nothing but sail right thru and fight... Fight the Irish ships that now positioned against him...::::::::
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 12, 2009 12:43:12 GMT -6
He had left so angry with them, a rush of emotion that was not there nor did it warrant any true merit, but it had happened. Perhaps no one noticed, or perhaps none cared. However deep inside he felt so very torn. The night had grown late, with the sea breeze pressing thick clouds around the light of the full moon the world around them seemed so surreal. The stars burned bright, but it would be the light of the moon that fell over the land--deepening the shadows. With the turn in weather the warmer eve seemed to welcome many to the streets, as the Spring lust buzzed. However, tonight would find them without their king. The underground of Skye would go without their ring leader as he sat perched within the crow's nest watching the open water; a torn soul.
Rosalind had not missed Peregrine's anger, nor the underlying hurt that sparked it. She was not cruel. She did not intentionally do what she did to spite him, or to make her own life any more difficult than it already was. Certainly, she did not think she was stubborn enough to do what needed doing on her own, or that a single person was the answer to her prayers. Whatever happened, whatever would happen, she was still just Rosalind -- and as Kendrew had remarked, could make of that name whatever she wished. Tonight, she wished to remind herself beneath the constructed identity of Lady Inveryne, she was human. Pere had seen that. When Fearghus was quite busy drinking himself into a stupor, Rosalind left the castle and returned to the docks, though the person walking down the streets hardly looked like Rosalind. She had dropped the mask tonight, dressing in a maid's borrowed gown, her hair crimped from its usual braids, but left loose save a ribbon holding the mass of it from her face, the ends trailing just past her hips. And when she appeared on the docks, she looked out for that drunk crew member who had nearly run her over during her last visit, and instead saw the pirate overhead.
Bare feet dangled through the bars within the nest, the leather of his pant well worn hung well past his ankles in tatters, they road low around his hips as his belt carried many things, tricks..toys. The long fabric of his tunic was sheer, lightweight and just as freely opened as the rest, but clearly not his own. "The only drunk you will have to watch out for is me.." Had he read her thoughts? No, it was simply the matter of watching her eyes dart. The sound of his voice carried down the mast, as he supported his head on folded arms over the rail. "You should leave, I'll not have nice things to say." A black scrap of fabric was tied around his forehead with blonde strands hiding it well as the ends fell down his spine was proof alone he had been buys, only wearing such things to keep water from his eyes. Bending then his face away from the clouds that passed over the moon he caught her attire, the way her hair fell past her shoulders, and those ribbons..Mmmmm. "Drinking more then I thought again I see...this vision before me cannot be real." He mused pulling his legs up to stand, as hands would then press against the rail.
"I have not had nice things to say to you since we met, Peregrine, and I beg you," she looked down the dock again, planted her hands on her hips, and glared up at him in the dark. "If you do not let me on your ship, at least, let us go elsewhere." With her usual wry humor, and none of the acid her next words deserved, she canted her head. "I look like a prostitute." She wore her hair down in the bed chamber and nowhere else. And the maid who owned the borrowed dress was a sprite in both weight and height, but Peregrine was right -- she did not look real. In fact, when she had glimpsed herself in the mirror, she had looked nothing like the bundled up Lady Inveryne. That was precisely her aim. To be spontaneous. To wear a ribbon in her hair. To prove some point to him she had long since forgotten.
From the fires of hell she stepped the heels of her boots clicking over the boardwalk, and laughter fell from ruby red lips. "You wear that and think you look like a prostitute?" The black ebony of her hair fell down her back, free and wild and mirrored the darkened flesh of her heritage with ease. "Then what have you to say about a real woman?" Coming up behind Rosalind the woman snorted, dressed as any common street dancer should--her waist synched, bosoms bursting from the belted leather, and with each step the bells around her feet, as well upon her hip could be heard. Walking up the plank of the ship she turned a look over her shoulder to the simple woman, "Do you always ask a man if you may board his ship?" She laughed then, turning to spy the pirate, "Or has no one taught you to take it?" Moving then she leaned upon the railing looking up, "Are you ready?"
"Ahhh, Speaking of whores." The pirate grinned turning up the flask once more before letting the cap be replaced and soon finding the ground, his own bells though much smaller crying out from around one ankle. The woman gave him narrowed eyes as he passed her up to reach the dock where Rosalind waited, "Ignore her, she's a fool, and you look beautiful."
The woman would chuckle then, pressing from the rail, "Is THIS what has kept you so busy, Peregrine?" She let her arms fall to her sides with bent hip.
"I was told it was polite to ask." She had not been foolish, at least bringing a shawl with her. Her dress was so low-cut, she was reminded of the dress Colban had scavenged for at Lanark. It was remarkably similar to this one. She pulled the edges a little closer, but let her hands fall again to her side. "I have nothing to say against real women. I believe myself real. And a woman." She studied Peregrine. "I have said sorry so many times before to you, I doubt it makes much difference now. You have my apologies, but I am not sure what I apologize for, really. I'm many things, Pere, but I cannot be all of them at once." She glanced past his ship out to the dark sea. She couldn't see a horizon, but searching for one gave her vertigo. She hated the sight of all that nothing out there, even if her more logical side told her it was more than nothing -- beyond the sea was Scotland, and beyond that, the Continent. "Am I interrupting?"
"Someone is saying they are sorry to you?! HA!" The gypsy scoffed, crossing her arms, "No you are interrupting nothing, I am here simply to remind him he has an engagement that needs attention..or he'll be spending his night alone." With that she pressed past them both and out into the night, walking down the shoreline and up into the forest.
Shaking his head he looped his thumbs over his belt and straightened his arms, shuffling his feet lightly, "What she means is, we celebrate the birth of Spring for nearly a month by fires upon the tallest hill..closest to the moon. Many dancing fools, drinks, laughter, smiling faces, you would hate it." He teased raising his hands to touch hers that held her shawl so tight, "If I don't start showing I'll be cast out. For fear of bad luck.. superstitious fools they are." With a shake of his head he let her hands go, "No need to say you are sorry for something that is not needed. I'm living on a fools hope, but do not worry I won't break my promise. Not this time at least."
She smiled. "Well. Let us not dwell." She looked down the beach, trying to find the point among the trees where the woman had vanished. "I think, if one celebrates any turning of the seasons, it should be spring. I have seen the fires and always wondered what you did there. Maybe I will hate it, but maybe I will like it. Maybe you should give me a chance? After all, I am all dressed up with no place to go. Will there be alcohol?" she added as an afterthought. The castle buzzed if she changed her drink order to anything stronger than wine. And it would buzz anew if she did not drink at all. This, of course, was cause to shake things up a bit. She needed a drink. Laughing quietly at her own assumptions, she shifted her grip of the shawl to one hand, and sought out one of his with her other, squeezing his fingers in hers. "I have lived among Scots most of my life. And I am of the one true Catholic church. Surely, if one should be deemed a superstitious fool, it is one of those two. You will let me know if I do anything unlucky, oui?"
"Will your husband not notice you gone? Time passes very freely upon the hills, it could be well into tomorrow before you return..Though I will admit this, he would never find you." She took his hand? Really? He was very surprised and smiled if only a little, "Come away with me..and of course there will be alcohol!" He chuckled bending his arm for her to take, leading her in the direction of the trees.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 12, 2009 12:55:22 GMT -6
Moon rising, rising high full and bright; reminded him of the sun in broad day's light. Back and forth the hands of the waves caressed the shore with tides high over cool sands. As they moved in silence along the shore, he kept his distance letting her lead even though he knew in his heart she would not know the way. Tonight her hair was unbound, with ribbons of the brightest colors, and for that he could only pray it was the start. Casual steps fell behind in three steps, as he watched her eyes search the treeline for the path the Gypsy had taken. "So tell me..why the change of heart?" Eirian he had no doubt was the beginning..but was it all?
She didn't know the way, but part of the joy was in not knowing. She always knew what would happen next, or at least, made such preparations that she would rarely be caught off-guard. She planned the workings of the world like a master at chess, and rarely did a gambit take her unawares. But she had not always lived this way. There had been a time when she hadn't thought beyond tomorrow, a time when that way of thinking had not bothered her at all, because the present was a beautiful place to dwell. At his question, she wondered herself, just for a moment. "I have to be careful every minute of every day. So careful, I forget what I am protecting. Soon, there will be nothing to protect anymore."
"Je suis en désaccord, Mon cher.." He whispered as they came to a stand still before the line of trees, and it would be here the first signs of life beyond this world came to call. Passing branch after branch cried out in truce, begging her to trust as how could the world around her lie? Somewhere along the night the silk scarf he had wore had ended up around his wrist and slowly he would start the unwind, "Nothing to protect in your world perhaps, but I have many secrets in which you can protect. Shall we start with this one?" Slow careful steps carried him behind her and the warmth of his breath could be felt as the air chilled, a reminder that it wasn't forever warm just yet. "A rich fabric over delicate eyes.." He whispered as the silk would cover her eyes, "Binding not thy sight, but only thy eyes..the path you tread is sacred and guarded like a lie.." Would she feel tense? Afraid? Excited? He hoped so, but would still soothe a whisper against the tender shell of her ear. "You keep your secrets well, and I trust you will do the same." For a pirate, whose life was spent in the salty sea air, his scent was rich earth, sandalwood and spice; for his body may belong to the sea, but his blood belongs to the forest.
Though her heart began to race, she appeared as calm as a lake on a windless day. She could be many things, she had told him. But not all at once. And some masks she had been wearing for so long, she would not soon be able to set them down. Unlike most courtiers, she had no obvious tells, no betraying signals of her heart. But deep below the surface of those placid waters, she did feel nervous, excited, and a tinge of fear and distrust. She did not like being led into the darkness, just as she did not like the sense of vertigo that pulled her soul into that deep darkness where ocean met sky in the night. "Je me fie à vous," she said softly, pulling her shawl around her to have something to do with her hands, and having very little to do with the cold. Her own scent was buried in the wool shawl, a blend of solid and practical herbs, and the light, near ghostly, high note of some foreign flower. For a moment, with her eyes closed, she felt she could see him even without sight, senses reaching out to paint a picture. It was entirely disconcerting.
Lies had a funny way of twisting into truth, as pat hs were secret, but it was not the way he wanted to hide; It was the bodies that hung from tree limbs he wanted to keep secret. Over the past week men had followed him, meeting their doom in the pitch black of night, and meeting their God upside down with their own blood pooling below them. Laughter filled the night, belonging to the trees as their long bodies swayed with their ornaments in the winds. All eyes were open, as they met the eternal dawn, and would remain until the flesh rotted from their faces. "It is not far.." A much smaller hand then most took hers again starting the trek upward. He held her trust, and in many ways felt it worse then having her heart. Broken trust hurt worse then broken hearts, but a heart that trusted their love? "I will warn you.." He spoke when the sounds of the laughter spilled much further up the hill, "They are rude, outspoken, and lawless..You remain close to me throughout the night..but of course I cannot force you." The warmth of the fires, and the sounds of music drummed through the air. The many steps in rhythm shook the ground and beat the earth as drinks of all kind20fertilized the lands. Good for growth..Removing the blindfold, he squeezed her hand as the sights came alive. Every childhood story of the underworld came to life. Folk tales and lore of all shapes and sizes somehow started right here. A rambling Gypsy, with wine for blood could bend lies into truth and a story into legend. A red ridding cape..straw into gold..water to wine.. Superstition played the air well, as voices carried together in ancient voices. Fabrics of every color hung from tree limbs, matching well the mismatched attire of the band of misfits.
The same timeless beauty of raven hair caught sight of the pair and ruby red lips smirked. Pressing from her perch she moved through the crowd, "You are over dressed." Her snide voice started with long hands coming to offer the woman in a simple servants gown a ring of flowers all fastened together by their long stems. Peregrine would be quick to catch her hands before the flowers would even touch the silken strands of ribbon laced hair, laughter would spill f rom her lips as the look was written well across the pirate's face.
Nice try.
"Oh, Pere. This...." It was beyond words. And it was so perfectly beyond Rosalind's usual spheres of movement, she could imagine losing herself quite thoroughly to this crowd tonight. Therein was the danger. She usually lost herself in worry, not in delight. Treading in the opposite direction of her usual thoughts had already brought her to Perry's ship that evening, even blindfolded through a forest, but the line she would not cross kept getting smaller and smaller in the distance. "What is the problem with the garland?" she asked, turning to Peregrine. This woman had not seemed particularly friendly at the docks, so between the two of them, she trusted his answer. She was too overwhelmed by the strange sights around the fires, which seemed to her a combination of the priests' worst fears of vice and something she might like to try. The firelight made the dancers into strange, otherworldly beings. The drumbeats assisted her imagination, transporting her back hundreds of years into the past.
"Oooooh child, best not be messin' with Carmen's flowers.." Spoke a voice from the crowd, aged..ancient, matching her face. Ageless eyes seemed to embody youth even though her sight had long been taken. Gray and wilting this Gypsy Rose had seen many summers, and knew this would be her last. With the aid of a cane twisted root, her slumped body wobbled closer. Her laughter seemed heretic, but so full of life. "Mmmmgh." She grunted coming to stop before the pair, reaching out a wrinkled bony hand. "Come..let me see you." It was clear she was blind, as eyes were upon the heavens but still she wanted Rosalind's hand.
Pere' would grin, "You can trust her." He spoke gently touching her elbow to usher her on, "I'll get you a drink.." Having spoken in a lower voice, he would raise it to the old sage before him, "Momma Fortune, this the Lady Rosalind, keep the wolves away for your favorite? Hmm?" Bending he would place a kiss to the wrinkled face, and her free hand would come to touch his cheek, safe with me..safe with me.
She spoke silently, and then taking Rosalind's hand, "Oooooh great beauty do I see, great breeding, how you come to follow that fool is a greater mystery." Blind eyes passed over the heavens above, the very light of the moon seeming to fill them with their own silver, "Many children do I see.. Foreign lands..A happy home, child your path of destruction is coming to an end." The reading of her palm would end as now the aged woman clung to the youth's hands to have Rosalind assist in helping her find a seat, "Come sit by the fire, by the fire we sit. Tell me, of this son you have hidden, when will you bring him to visit?"
"That would be lovely," she responded to Peregrine, even as he left her with the older woman. Rosalind helped the aged gypsy to a seat near the fire, bending down to the woman's height so that she could "see" more easily. Rosalind was not as tall as most women on Skye, but she was quite tall, particularly compared to the wizened gypsy. "Oh, I ask myself the same question sometimes." She did not know Pere well enough to claim he was a "good" man, but for some reason, she liked him. He made her quite aware of the self she kept hidden away, even if his pointing it out had grown a little infuriating. "Many children? Perhaps you see only two. One I lost five years ago, and ... " she saw Peregrine beyond the fire's light, and wondered why he had told the woman about Aldric. Gossip was a bit like water; it was impossible to contain. She did not suppose this woman would ever betray her son, but she rather wished she still had control over who knew about him. With a light sigh, she canted her head. "Aldric. He cannot leave the castle. I will not risk him being seen. Are you a mother?" Rosalind had an uncanny ability of being right. Instinct or gift of prophecy, or even a particular gift for reading the expressions of others, were she more public with her predictions, she might have been burned for a witch. It was interesting to meet another with a similar gift.
"MmmmHmm, Child I don't speak of your past. You'll be having more children. That is..if ye keep going in the direction you walk now. You see.." She wrapped her cold fingers around the wrist of the woman beside her, catching her eye. "Our lives change with every choice that is made, for one day your cards will say go left..you go right..fate. Just as you wanted to stay hidden..fate brought you here." Many eyes had turned upon the pair, faces of all sorts shady, dark..beautiful. "I have many children, of my own..and of this land. Do ye see that pretty golden haired boy," She motioned to the Pirate who spoke openly and laughed with a small group of men at arms, two goblets positioned well. "That's my youngest, though..he is far grown then many here." Did a rat just run out of the woman's silver hair? Yeap.
"Your drink, My Queen." He closed the distance between them passing the goblet to the delicate hands of the Lady in waiting. "This comes from the Captain, Rosalind..raise you cup and say thank you." He motioned to a man heavily armed and perched against the old oak tree. He stood a good two heads taller then his own, and was well into his fifties, as gray peppered a black beard and a dirty mop under his scarf. "He also asked how much I wanted for you for the night..what should I say? Twenty? Twenty-five?" He teased seating himself on the outer edge of the log, and tipping back his drink.
"Oh, goodness!" escaped her before she could stop herself. The woman had vermin in her hair! "I...I hope your words to be true. Really." Fortunately, she was saved from dwelling too much on why it might take a while for them to come true when Peregrine returned. "Thank you." She raised her glass to the Captain, wondering what sort of character he was, so heavily armored and ... tall. And old! Still, she had her manners, and mouthed a thank you to him before ducking her head back to Peregrine. "Ah, twenty-five, I am not20sure whether to be flattered at the offer or disturbed at how low you price my honor." She gave a mock disdainful sniff before taking a drink from her cup. "This one is yours, hmm?" she asked the elderly woman, amused for some reason at the idea.
"Ayup, found him just last year settled in the base of an oak tree sobbing like a newborn. Brought him home, fed him, changed him and he's been here ever since. My favorite too, he has an old soul." She rambled well into her own mind, mixing it with worlds, different lives that seemed so long forgotten.
"I was lost, what can I say." It would have been easy to see his blush had his face not already been a little pink from the day's sun. "I've kidnapped her, Momma. Removed her from an awful fate, she would be sitting by a fire...sewing." The woman gasped catching her heart within her hand, such a fate must have been horrible. "But I guess I will have to return her before dawn, or else she'll turn into a pumpkin."
"And return her just the way you found her."
"Ah, but of course, I've not got her drunk enough to come back to the dock with me..but I'll be working on it." He winked then passing Rosalind his cup as her own started to empty. "Tell me, Princess..When you've reached the point of no return hmm? I'll get you to dance with me then."
"Last year. They do grow so quickly." She laughed softly. "Ah, yes. Sewing. You know, there are other things I do besides sewing. Sometimes I weave." Her lips twitched into a smile. "Sometimes, I learn poetry and music, and perform for the Duchess or her court. I have three young squires, all under eight years old, who are learning courtly manners from me. They are perhaps the most amusing little boys I've ever met, and even though I am not old, I think little boys have a way of making a person feel ancient." She was rather dreading and loving the idea of Aldric reaching such an age. He had his father's wit and his mother's intelligence, and coupled with an athleticism and endless font of energy, was destined to be trouble. She took his cup and sipped at it. The goal was, of course, to drink and relax and possibly forget, all to arrive bright-eyed and ready to go by dawn. That was a feat she wasn't sure she could accomplish, but this was a night unlike any other before. "Oh, I believe you'll know. I may take a lark and start dancing without you, with enough of this in me." She raised the cup, laughed, and took another swallow.
"Mmm Poetry huh? All the important stuff in being a Lady. Tell me then, some of your poetry?" The Gypsy snorted with the comment of boys as it was very true. Suddenly the music stopped, the drums stilled, the dancing froze in place As the bare feet of a single woman stepped into the circle, beads inside a hallow log slowly trailed from one end to the other, and captured every eye.
"Long ago..We drew down the moon to shift the season.." Her voice whispered across the silence, as the story began. "In one night it was done..one night to her at least..a lifetime for us." Slowly well worn hands would start again over a drum, and the dancer would start the exotic movements passed down from generation to generation. Her hips would sway, back and forth twisting with the silk that was an outline of her motion--perfection. Cheers and laughter began again with the welcoming of spring.
"Perhaps you will write poetry of this night, and read it to your husband in the morning..Or recite it over his grave." He spoke darkly as seemingly black eyes bore into her own, that was what happened in the dark of ones soul when death was spoken of.
"I do not intend to visit his grave. But if I did, I think I would prefer to dance." Rosalind returned his dark humor with a wry smile of her own, her attention captivated now by the dark-haired gypsy dancing in the firelight. Her sinuous movements spoke of a dangerous freedom, but there was music in every motion, from the angle of her poised hands to the rhythm of her speech. "We should dance like that in court," she mused. "No more routines and box steps. The Pope, he may object, but what His Holiness does not see, will do him and our immortal souls no wrong." With so much free-flowing liquor, it was only a mild surprise to find both cups refilled. She handed Perry's back to him, and reached the bottom of her new cup a bit more quickly than expected. With her pale skin, the flush caused by alcohol was apparent even in the firelight. And between her shawl, the fire, and the contents of her cup, she was beginning to feel warm -- and perhaps glad that her maid's dress had such a low neck and minimal sleeves.
"Then we will dance over it together.." He whispered darkly as he slowly snaked his hands around her, brushing them gently over her shoulders to slowly pull that shawl back. His cup had been sat down, long forgotten as he felt the poison run his veins. "You were lost tonight, mademoiselle.." Slowly his hands trailed down her spine pressing gently to the small of her back, encouraging her to rise. "Go find yourself?" Many eager men waited upon the lines for the rare and in between; everything Rosalind was. The envy of every woman here, without realizing it. Even in her simple gown..she had everything. "Go join my family, they welcome you with open arms." Somewhere in the distance he heard the call of a falcon, the trained birds that were his trade, and instantly his eyes would fire to the captain, and with a bow of his head the man was off. Out into the night the band of thieves pressed, everyone far too drunk to realize they had even gone.
It was unexpectedly wonderful to feel his hand on her back, and for once, she did not jump away at any hint of impropriety. It was difficult to imagine anyone with malicious intentions following them this far, though perhaps her feeling of safety was due more to the alcohol than Perry's diligence. "If you promise to join soon?" She left her shawl on the log, uncertain if more rats were waiting to scurry out of the old woman's hair and onto her shawl, but willing to take the risk. She set down her cup, lightly touched Peregrine's shoulder in parting, and went to join the dancers. Rosalind had always enjoyed dance -- she liked the rhythm of the music, the patterns the dancers made in the hall as they came together and parted, spun about one another, clapped hands as they rejoined, hopped to the third-beat, otherwise morally sound women popping their hips out to the flare of the violin. She liked the formality, the rules, mixed with the sprightliness and sensuality of something much more pagan in origin. But to dance without rules, to join a dance where there was no order, that was a challenge she was more than ready to accept, particularly with the pleasant buzz warming her body. And Peregrine would not be the first to notice that despite Rosalind's awkward stride owing to the twisted leg, she danced as if the accident had never happened, compensating for the injury with the art of misdirection -- a skill any dancer, like any courtier, would be fond to master.
Hips swayed in figure eights, as her upper body remained perfectly still, but her hands would sweep out to take that of the Lady's. A warm smile she would sp in luxury's child helping to transition her from her earthy motions--into heaven. "Close your eyes.." She whispered, "Let go.." Releasing Rosalind's hands she would smile warmly, casting a look to where the pirate should have been, but he was gone. Lost in the sea of faces, she could feel his gaze, like a hunger on it's prey she knew he was watching every move, and for good reason!
Rosalind had had enough to drink that suggestion had much more power over her than it would otherwise, though she was a far way from stumbling or slurring. Yet, something within told her not to follow the gypsy, at least ... not too far. She wouldn't go into the woods with the woman. She wouldn't leave the ring of firelight. "Where?" she asked, searching for Peregrine herself, though at his absence, didn't feel any particular sense of alarm. His earlier words had blended into his blessing to go with his family, to dance. When she looked back to the beautiful gypsy, s he was still smiling warmly. So Rosalind followed the gypsy for a few steps, and a few more. She felt her eyes drift shut as she was led along, having no need to keep them open, really, if the gypsy saw for them both.
Carefully she would ease her back further with only the sound of her voice, a gentle touch of her hand, and a careful look. To everyone around them it would seem she was assisting the elegant lady, but in many ways she was robbing her blind. Taking away little weaknesses that came out in a woman's motions, how they pulled away if touched in certain places, or the imprints of hands long gone, "I do not mistake you for a fool, but you should know this.." The Gypsy touched her shoulder, "Not everything is as you seem especially.." Poison came from the snake's lips, but she was silenced by the figure that passed between her and the fire; casting it's shadow.
Not one time in this night did he plan upon taking control. Not once did he want to take that freedom from her, but as his hand found hers he clearly took the lead. Careful gentle hands that held the lives of a hundreds of men, the blood of her enemies..of her late husband's men; men he trusted -- their blood stained the earth her feet danced. She held the grace of a thousand delicate dancers, and he carried the weight of the heavy tide, but still as he pulled her in the balance was easy to find. Against the small of her back one hand touched while his hand still held her own--a waltz, the samba..a mix of both. However it was more a man finding a woman under the night, wishing to protect her from the truth, and let her remain in this state of freedom he has longed for her since the moment they met. Nothing could be said, no words found his lips but all in his eyes; they spoke for him. Don't listen..don't listen..just give into me.
She wanted to hear what the gypsy woman had to say. As they stood still, the air began to crystallize, her skin to cool in the shadow, and she heard the poison in the warning -- but it was clearly a warning. Before she could decipher the meaning of the woman's words, she was swept up by Peregrine, who had finally joined the dance. "I knew you would join in. It is too wonderful to sit and watch." And soon the woman's words faded from mind, their steps taking them back toward the heat and light of the fire, other dancing bodies approaching, brushing as they whirled by, making room for others and fading into shadow. They were out of focus beyond Peregrine's shoulder, for there was something in his expression that begged study. What was that intensity about him, the way his eyes darkened now, as their bodies moved to the same rhythm? He knew most of her secrets and had not judged her. She relied on him for her immediate future, here at the fire, and for whatever came after tomorrow. For her son, for her clan, and by default, the men of Argyll. Why did he take on such responsibility, when greater men would have walked away? She let it go. Some questions had no answers, or at least, no answers she was willing to entertain tonight.
The fire's crackle would be all that was heard, as it seemed the rest left beyond their ring. The drums and laughter all gone, as now they were alone. Still there was music, but it was internal pan flutes of distant lands -- the imagination or the alcohol playing tricks? That had been a close one, and it was clear as his heart was pounding her his chest. For what seemed t he better part of an hour turned into three, and Dawn was just on the horizon. Shoes were well worn, danced until they fell apart just as the fairy tale goes. It would be what gave her away. When the music had slowed, the never shy fool that rest under this vagabond exterior held her close, but when the music stopped - -he refused. Still nothing would leave his lips, as breaking the silence broke to mood, but the time had come..."The sun is chasing our moon."
Rosalind didn't find his silence disturbing. There were a great deal of people who talked in this world who said nothing. Sometimes, silence was all they needed. A time to reflect, a time to think, or a time to not think at all, but simply obey the motions of music, to let the body do as it willed without coercion from the mind. When he did speak, it came as a surprise, startling her from whatever reverie had taken hold of her. If she thought about it, she could not say what she had been thinking about, but when she looked up through the trees, time had most certainly passed them by -- and a great deal of it, by the color of the false dawn. "I shouldn't have come. Now I do not wish to go back." It was not the flirtatious rejection of responsibility, but an honest plea to stay a few moments longer, tempered with the futility of knowing she never would forget her responsibilities.
The chill in the air where the heat of the fire died seemed almost eerie as they were all gone. All proof that the Gypsies were even real vanished in the night and left them here with the rise of the sun. "You.." He whispered against her hair, "Should know me well enough to know that I would not send you back.." Closing his eyes he closed the distance between his cheek and the cool heat of her temple. "What if I were to tell you, your son is waiting for you in a bed of furs, ready to leave this place behind? Would you go? Knowing how free this feels? Would it make it easier to let them fall in their own ruin?" Was he having second thoughts? Doubting himself..or his reasons. What was this damn secret he was keeping.
"It would make it tempting, but I would not ... I would not leave them." She sighed. She claimed not to be vain, that she did not seek vengeance, or even justice. But that was a lie, and in her darkest nightmares, they were filled with blood and gore, and an eternity without vindication. She wanted Fearghus to feel what she felt, when she knew he wouldn't come to Inveryne. That she could prove, even to a dead man, she had been faithful to him, to the clan, to the people of Argyll who depended on Lamont's stability. Fearghus, with his questionable rightness, was not incorrect in wishing to restore his clan, nor ruling his lawfully wedded wife in the way he saw fit -- must he die that her son might live? Her head was suddenly awhirl in the same heavy thoughts, moral questions she had asked of God and received no answer, but which Perry offered a convenient solution. She curled her hand into a fist against his chest. "I have a chance to bring peace to Argyll. I won't leave them."
"Then what if I told you, your life is in danger..Your head has been commissioned to hang in the halls, and I have been the one paid to do it. What if I told you that money I was paid was dropped upon your husband's head..sending him blindly into battle and fate would have him knock the man who held Lord General down--making him a hero. Hmm? What if everything you've thought about me..about opening you up was a lie, and that I led you here to kill you." Releasing her then the darkness of the night was slowly fading away, and the sun that started to light up the horizon would as well light the backs of the bodies dangling in the trees. "Would you be surprised?" Canting his head with question, there was truth behind his meaning, and it was clear in the dark of his eye. He struggled with it..and has.
"No." Her reaction was swift, brutal, and left her as sober as a stone. When he stepped away, she took a step forward, in a bitterly ironic parody of their dance. She uncurled the fingers of her right hand, and slapped him. "Do not you dare play me like this. I, who have nothing, have given you everything. Do not toy with me." She stepped back, seething, the rising light of dawn suddenly illuminating the cloud of breath from her mouth. "Kill me or not. I mean to walk back to the beach and return to my duties at the castle. Y ou can decide if you wish to rob me of what little I have left. I bid you enjoy my husband's coin for as long as it lasts." She went back to the log, picked up her shawl, and in the moment of pause in which she pulled the garment around her shoulders and shrugged it into place, her eyes finally caught sight of the clearing's macabre decorations. She stopped. As if she had suddenly grown roots, she was unable to take a step further. "What are your intentions, then?" she asked softly, though the hint of steel remained in her words.
"Would you have done anything differently?!" He was used to getting slapped..it was nothing new, but suddenly it felt so much more harsh then it ever had. "My crew needed to be paid, all my life's work..everything the money was too tempting. It was an easy way out that..has become so very hard. I didn't know you..I didn't know about your son. I didn't know I'd care so much about you." He did not move from his spot, nor stir from where he was kept, but so much of him wanted to follow her. He wouldn't tell her what would happen if their deal would fall through, that if she was not removed -- what would be his end, but why beg now? "You have to come with me..I can't leave you now..but if you remain here, they will kill you anyway..Or he will keep you..under your wimple, in his bed." Fists would clench then as teeth ground together, he hated to think of what she went through, but hated even more that he stood now between the cross fires of right and wrong.
"When you found out about Aldric, what did you plan to do with him?" Her stomach clenched at the thought of him asking Fearghus what to do regarding his wife's secret bastard. Would he have taken initiative and killed him and then informed? Her mind churned out a number of horrifying scenarios, each more sickening than the last, for none held true to who she had believed Peregrine to be. He was a pirate and a tinker, yes, but not to her knowledge, a murderer of children. But what did she know? She had believed, outside of herself, Peregrine the most disgusted at her situation. She shelved those thoughts, but just for the moment. Just...until she could process his potential betrayal. "What changed his mind?" Fearghus was waiting for her to give him a son. Unless he thought her incapable of doing so, or -irredeemably compromised - "Holy Christ. He sent his men to follow you." She pointed at the nearest tree-bound corpse. "Because he believes me a Jezebel? I am thrown to the dogs, then." She knew her20thoughts were disjointed, as she put facts together and hurried on to their logical conclusions, never making eye contact with Peregrine, but the slight drop in her shoulders a subtle admission that he was right. "Where is Aldric?"
"Sleeping with my wolves." Meaning the furs on his bed, inside his cabin.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 12, 2009 13:02:44 GMT -6
Rosalind was, in those moments, a purely refined version of herself. The hope she felt when she mentioned Aldric's name, her love for him, the fear that crystallized in her heart and put a lump in her throat, making speaking difficult. The fears she could not voice, the rage for which there was no outlet, the series of betrayals that had led her to precisely this place -- all masked, very carefully, in a placid voice that gave way to logic. Thinking was far easier than feeling. Thinking yielded results. It led to action. "I want to see him. I do not care if he is sleeping, I want him here. Now." She had not seen him in weeks. It was less about trusting Peregrine and more about the impossible standards she was forced to keep.
"Yes, your majesty, anything you wish." He snorted with a clap of his hands, pretending to call upon servants to bring forth the child, but all that was left would be the quiet sounds of the forest. "He's safer with me..as hard as that is to believe, Your Highness, but could very well pass as one of my brats." Spoken as if there were many already. His hair fell around his face shadowing the forest child's features from being red, but more importantly hiding the danger there behind his eyes. "He's on my ship..you want him..we will have to get him." Without another thought he turned for the path, a clear easy, well worn path that could not be any secret. Stopping at the mouth of the trail he would wait, "You can find your own way back I'm sure.."
She stared hard at him when he stopped. With the look in her eyes, it was easy to see her first choice would be to tell him to go to hell. He dared to remove her child from the castle without asking her, after accepting Fearghus's money? "What changed your mind?" she asked instead. No, he had not acted once he accepted the money. She knew this. He was also right that Aldric was safer with him than he was in the castle, but removing him had been far riskier than she would have liked. No matter, it was done, and even she had heard nothing of it. That he mocked her only increased her ire, and if he called her by another honorific, she would not just slap him. She'd deck him. "Of course I can find my way back on my own, now that it is light."
Slow steps closed the distance between them, as suddenly he seemed taller..or perhaps it was simply the intake of breath that extended his chest was all that remained of an illusion. His voice rose from his chest in a raspy low sound, deep like distant thunder rolling through the valley. "Once upon a time, in a beautiful castle a beautiful woman gambled with her life, by leaving her sewing basket behind..Such sadness behind her eyes, but she spoke the truth. Bewitching words that she would miss me, needed me..and for the first time it was not out of 'love'. You couldn't love me even if you wanted to, as you've made that very clear. So forgive me for wanting to keep girls like you around. It's not everyday my charms don't work; I'm intrigued and haven't changed. My promise to you then is the same as it is now. I'll pay for my mistake..no doubt, but I will not see you hurt again."
"'Love' is not the same as 'falling into bed with.'" She pressed her hand to her forehead, thumb on one temple and index on the other, closing her eyes as if fighting an oncoming headache. "I wish you had told me. I wish you had said something. I wish.... I do not know." She sighed, dropped her hand, and looked into his eyes. "I told you, when we went looking for my basket, that I would not leave. Nothing has changed. I will not leave. I tried, dear heavens, I tried. Three times, I tried. But when the Pope himself will not hear your story, perhaps it is meant to be -- perhaps there is no escape, only an inevitable conclusion. Him, or me. So we build up the fortress and we prepare for battle. It is the only way I know. And it is stark raving madness coupled with complete idiocy that I am doing so." She found his hand and held in her own, her thumb moving across his fingers slowly, eyes now failing to meet his. "But, so some say, is trusting you again."
"I wanted you to trust me, Rosalind.." He whispered curling his hand around her own, "You..have..no clue how much my life is built on lies. All my life it's been a gamble, and I'm sorry if this truth hurts...but it's the truth, does that count for anything?" Dawn broke finally filling the trees now with long shadows, but as bare branches moved..so too did the bodies hung from their legs. However, crashing through the limbs each dead man went, laughter spilling out of dark figures that remained easing forward from the forest. Heavy hands came quick to grab the pair, as the hands of thieves relieved the pirate of any weapons both visible and concealed. Peregrine's hand would cling to hers, until ropes were heavily bound along with the gag.
"Pirate, you are under arrest. For murder.." The knight started to count his fingers, "Treason, kidnapping.." Black eyes passed to Rosalind who now would be held back, "Anything else, m'lady? A..adultery perhaps?" The man bore his judgmental eyes upon her. Turning over his shoulder the General's soldier would bark his orders, "Find her husband, tell him we have her. Take her to the castle..As for him..." The man crossed the distance between the struggling pirate, but would turn his hand to point where the black smoke filtered in the distance. "You'll have the same fate as your ship."
Peregrine's eyes widened in pure horror, as the black clouds swelled, and fell instantly to her. Rosalind..your son.
Rosalind was not superstitious, but when the men fell out of the shadows, she truly did wonder if she should be. Her instinct was to cross herself, and her hand twitched in Perry's, but did not let go. "Don't. Don't go," she heard herself say, even as she was torn away from him. She snatched out for his fingers, only to have them pass beyond her reach. Barred from him by a burly knight in light armor, when she banged against him to let her free, her shove merely added insult to the injury of smacking against brittle leather and metal. Rosalind was forceful, but she was not quite as substantial. Treason. Murder. Adultery. "I have adultered myself with no man," she said icily. "Evidence, and not rumor, should be your guide in pronouncing such charges. Let me go." She smacked against the man holding her once more, but it was enough to spark him into action, as he stepped aside and neatly twisted her arm behind her back, a leg wedged against her weakened knee to hold her still. She had no choice but to listen to Peregrine's ad hoc verdict. No choice but to see his eyes widen in horror. In slow motion, she saw the knight's teeth flash into a grin, and his gaze turn slowly to the harbor, where black smoke rose over the trees. "No. NOOOOO!" It was a feral wail that pierced the dawn air, the sound of her heart breaking, of dreams shattering. "No. No, let me go." She twisted, and even the sharp pain as a result was not enough to still her movements. They tore her from the clearing, and dragged her in the wrong direction.
Up the shore he walked, as they tore her from the trees. The sun was glorious as it rose over the sea, the day was promising, and as he watched his wife be moved forward it suddenly got just a little better. However, upon his hip a child rest, hair the brightest gold, and eyes just as he had imagined--a son. "Good morning, Captain." He spoke in an arrogant brogue that seemed too perfect for the face that glared back. The child would grin from ear to ear, upon seeing the woman with them, "Mum mum." Chubby little hands reached out to her, but the Clansman would be quick to pull him away. "Oh look..he likes you." Evil eyes perched under closed brow as his eyes wove a fine line of anger.
So many emotions coursed through her upon seeing Fearghus with Aldric on his hip that to name them would be near impossible. But never once did she war with the instinct to run to Aldric and take him in her arms. She was nearly crippled when she started forward, her arm straining, a white-hot streak of agony shooting down her shoulders and stealing the breath from her lungs. "It is all right, darling," she whispered to Aldric in French. "Maman is fine." Her son, though, had the eyes of his father, the intelligence of both of his parents, and an old soul that made him far more mature than his years suggested. His big eyes widened even more and his enthusiasm waned, confusion stilling his body, save those eyes -- which moved from his mother, and upward, to the stranger. He, too, waited for Fearghus to show his cards. She straightened, the pain in her arm fading to a slow and persistent throb. She returned to their shared language, to the English he consented to speak, and which suddenly felt vastly foreign to her. "He should be. He is my son."
"No..." His hand came quickly with it's back crashing hard against her face, before her child..before the General's men. "He is MY son." The crazed lunatic raved, and the men who held back the pirate suddenly found themselves putting up a good fight. You son of a bytch..I'll kill you..let me go..I need to kill him..Couldn't be made out, from the muffled sound, and the small cry of her son as he watched his mother be hit. It would be when Perry met the child's eyes did he stop his struggle..cursing..and even behind the rope would smile. Having always carried that grin that reached his eyes, he would need not his lips to express his emotion. In that little moment the child would still, clutching his hands together he waited..A funny face to me made then, and the boy's own smile would return. How quickly the young would forget..birth, first steps..abuse..looking back it would have only taken one little funny man to let the memory fade; goofy pirate, puppet on strings..or so it seemed. "I would suggest, Rosalind, you return to the castle..where I will be quick to remind you..that THERE is where you belong! What fate.." Turning then to the General's men, "Does our pathetic waste have?"
"He will be taken to our holding and tried just as any other prisoner would. However, Lord General has been waiting long time to see this one's fate end. We all have." By that time, all was lost to the Pirate, as his eyes no longer entertained the son, but watched as smoke rose down the shore. It would be as if he lost his heart, pulled right from his chest, his freedom born; gone, and in that moment his very being screamed of defeat.
Oh, Pere, it wasn't meant to end like this. The blows did not become easier to bear. The pain was no less. One did not adapt to such an insult. But her recovery was smooth, even as blood trickled from her nose, she lifted her head to watch Fearghus. She had no doubt in her mind that when he knew the lad's heritage, his desire for a son would be far outweighed by his sense of betrayal. And if he never knew, he would twist her little boy into yet another power-mad tanist, one who would never see compromise as a viable option, one who would take innocent lives as a matter of vengeance. She did not know how long it would take him to discover Aldric's father, nor that the man was living, and very much active in the child's life. She did not know how to allay his suspicions. So she remained quiet, what was left of her broken heart aching for Peregrine's loss. Her arms were released slowly, and she drew them back to her sides, rubbing the blood back into her upper arms. She did not know whom to beg for a favor for Peregrine's life, but she would not let him go without a fight. She was in retreat as she walked of her own volition toward the streets winding up toward the castle, surrounded by an escort of guards, ostensibly for her safety. But they felt like iron bars, now not only separating her from freedom, but from her child, from Peregrine and all his promises.
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Post by Sir Lucius MacLeod on Mar 13, 2009 0:01:51 GMT -6
Dismal Days and Small Fortune when darkness falls your heart will be true you walk a lonely road far you are from home your journey on to light the day when the night is overcome The last bit of string that he fashioned from a few old—yet remarkably durable—forest vines, Lucius finished knotting the end of it string to create a makeshift noose. Threads of the natural fiber had been twisted and braided and knotted in a few other places to for the sturdy piece of string; he needed it to be strong. The air was cold, and without the layers of armour on, or as much armour as he had, the bitter chill of the winter was all the more apparent. It was dark now; the sun had long since set and disappeared over the horizon. With hopes winter would be gone soon for this cold was almost unbearable. Never before had he known such coldness for long or how cherished a warm fire and a good mug of hot stoup could be. Before, it was an unnoticed luxury. There was much the squire was learning, no mistaking there. Rationing portions of food was key to the long treks from camp to camp. Kendrew had long since taken his leave to deal with the matters of the clans, which by now was looking to be a God-send errand. Part of him wished that he could have gone, and then he would not be freezing half to death out here in the woods. To sit and discuss matters of a political sense would have been far better than sitting in the cold nights. Though, Lucius was no fool to not see that he was not the only soldier here miserable. What was more; the dark clouds carrying many gallons of rain loomed over their heads, and had only recently decided to release the droplets. The rain came down in sheets, soaking him to the bone. His fingers were shaking and nearly numb. No snow would fall for it was too warm for the droplets to solidify and turn into those white fluffy flakes.
Pausing in his work, Lucius sighed softly, the breath of air that left his lungs coming out in the form of a grey cloud to dissipate on the air, and glanced over his wet shoulder. The wool cloak, brown and tightly woven, did well to keep his body heat in and the water off, but still some drops managed to get past the hood and cause the ends of his hair to stick to his cold face. Dark lashes lowered and his eyes narrowed into thin slits to peer through the veil of rain and in the direction of the camp, the light of the fair a faint beacon of promised warmth. Lucius shivered, unconsciously, but turned back around to finish his work. As soon as he finished he could join the men again and be warmed, perhaps even managed to get a bit more of the stew he made for the men, knowing the soldiers, some no more older than he, would save some for him. It wasn’t much, but the delectation of wild rabbits during this season was not favourable. Still, he would try. A long stick and branch had been found, high enough to catch a small animal and keep it suspended in the air. The squire finished his simple constructed snare trap, dead leaves, wilted and damp, had been placed over parts of it to conceal it from the animal. Hopefully…they would get something. Anything at this point, no man was finicky for a taste of meat. Dark eyes looked over the trap, inspecting it silently before approving mildly of his handiwork and rising to his feet.
Cold hands seized the sides of his cloak and pulled it about his tall frame more, as if it would protect him from every danger that lurked. In this case, it was protecting him from the cruel, bitter air and rain. Trudging back toward the camp, the ground was already becoming soggy and muddy, making it hard to walk in without nearly falling over and Lucius hated it. War was not as he thought it would be…it was not as tales of old spoke of…then again perhaps they simply failed to mention the repercussions because they were not so exhilarating. By the time he got back to camp, someone had stretched a blanket out to make a small tent. Dark eyes turned to Valerius, who was wet and trying not to shiver as well. Lucius sighed and move over to his horse, adjusting the blanket about the beast’s frame, and leading him closer to the fire so he too could stay warm. Lucius sat down on a log under the makeshift tent, which did not offer shelter from the cold, but it did lend comfort from the rain. Pushing back the hood, Lucius rain a freezing hand through his damp hair just as a fellow soldier handed him a piping hot shallow bowl of watery stew. Lucius took it gratefully and nursed it, his eye lids falling as the heat began to spread all over. Though the flavor and taste of the stew had been watered down, Lucius was happy of what bit of meat there was, even some of the bread had been sprinkled in. While the other men talked amongst themselves, mostly about their experiences in battle and their own version of this one’s ending, Lucius dwelt in his own thoughts.
That is…however…until the topic drifted to that of family and home.
Home…it seemed so far away and Lucius wondered if he would ever see home again…if he would ever see his love. If anything, war had taught him of its unpredictability and Lucius was praying day and night that God would guide him back home in one piece. His side hurt, bruised from a prior skirmish when he hit the ground from a man’s fist, but along with the bruise on his jaw, Lucius ignored it. Hunched over, he finished the stew and passed the bowl back. How he missed Siobhan…his father…even Kendrew. Unconsciously, his hand moved to his chest and under the gambeson and tunic, he felt the necklace there, safe and warm. Vaguely he could hear the talk of the men, their fond recollection of their wives, children, lovers, even the skill of the women in the brothel. Still…they knew not how fortunate they were to be able to show affection to their loved ones. To hold a hand…to kiss a cheek…to even smile openly was a gift that Lucius was restricted from. Right now, it was not tolerable, there was too much at stake for such a foolish wish…but Lucius still missed it, longed for it. However, he was glad that Siobhan or his father was not here to endure this. This was hell on earth, and those that died were fortunate. Frowning sadly, Lucius stared at the ground, lonesome thoughts creeping in. Was it wrong of him to want to go home? To lay in bed and never leave it again? Well, he would take that selfish thought.
Lucius laid down on the hard, cold ground, his pack the pillow. Wincing, Lucius reached under him and pulled out a rock. Sighing, the rock was tossed aside and he tried to get as comfortable as he could get. The squire even tried to imagine that he was in a nice warm, soft, bed with his heart beside him and sleeping peacefully. Hopefully her sleep was peaceful…for his was not. It was hard to sleep in conditions like this, and it showed. Dark circles under his eyes, a leaner face and physique from the scarcity and rationing of food. God willing, the war would end and everyone could go home. Lucius closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he found that hard to do. The woods were alive, even at night. Breezes passed by, Valerius snorted, the rain trickling down over the tent, and many more nightly noises kept him awake for quite a while before Lucius found an uneasy sleep, enough to rest his mind.
By the time morning came, the rain had stopped and the clouds were departing. Hearing the shifting of men, the curled up Lucius opened his eyes slowly, staring across the way at the textile of the tent. Another day. Groaning to himself, Lucius rose and shifted out of the tent. His first stop was to check the trap that he set, hoping and praying that he caught something. Many nights they had been unsuccessful, the animals retaining some sensibility and staying in their warm little burrows and dens. Stepping across the soft ground, Lucius made his way back to the trap…and his eyes widened. Success! A tired smile appeared on his lips as he rushed over toward the trap and dangling from the stick and string was a wild hare. Oh happy day! Pulling out his boot knife, Lucius severed the string and carried the hare back to camp. Seeing the animal hanging from the tight noose, the men grinned and cheered, happy to have another meal! Breakfast! Lucius broke the rabbit’s neck, making sure it was dead, before using his knife to gut the animal, skin it, and then roast it over the fire. Even though the rabbit itself was a rather gangly thing, it was a meal and hot. They all shared the rabbit that morning, hot, and even though bland, it was delicious protein.
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Dame Danae Galanos
Respectable
Evil Prevails When Good Men And Women Fail To Act
Posts: 137
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Post by Dame Danae Galanos on Mar 14, 2009 17:58:01 GMT -6
Peregrine = The line of the keep's holding was long, the hall stretching for what seemed forever with many empty eyes and open hands reaching out. With the war in full swing each room was full, with many having more then one. However, with strict instructions from the General he was placed in the very last one. Furthest away from the light, and furthest away from life. No longer did Maahes trust just the bars of the keep to hold him, but would have him chained by his wrist with long reach from the floor. Peregrine could move about as he wished...just couldn't escape. Funny how the tables turned, and even he could not help but smirk. (d Danae = Danae and Merick would be entering into the hall, each holding a man in restraints of sorts as they pushed and shoved them further into the darkened hall lined with cells of steel bars. "Right... you will get your chance to share your side of things soon enough." Danae said as they opened a cell and shoved in one man before Merick then turned to shove in another. Just as Merick released his hold, the prisoner turned and threw a punch. There was a scramble of sorts. Feet shifting heavily and the clinging of weapons against bars in the attempt to regain control of the man while trying to keep the others back that dared to test the Commander and her second in command. Danae and Merick managed to get things underway with a little brute force and team work. Unfortunately, the Greek woman would suffer a busted lip and a hand lifted to wipe the blood that seeped after spitting some of it to the ground. Merick = "Commander... you alright?" Merick asked. Danae = Danae just smirked as if he should have known better, and really he should have. "I'm fine... its nothing." Danae had no clue as to who was down here and for what, the woman had been in several places all at once lately, it seemed. -d- Peregrine = "Perhaps you should let me have a look..you know..just to make sure." His voice carried down the hall so full of life and cheer even in the damp prison of his hell. His fingers curled around the bars, the chains rattling as he moved and a hiss rose from his lips then, "Then put him in here with me.." A wildness behind blue eyes, dark and dangerous. He was covered in his own blood, a split against his hair line was dried and well on it's way to healing. However, the sight of the blood was rare upon him, as always he learned to escape a fight. (d Danae = Danae's brows would furrow as Merick held the metal skeleton key in place to lock the metal bar door closed. She looked down the dark hall, stepping off to a side in hopes for a better view. "Perry?" She asked as blue hues stared hard into the darkness that swallowed him up. Merick turned to look at his Commander, a hand to her shoulder and she looked to him, giving a soft shake of head. "No.. I'm fine..really." She said as she softly shrugged free and moved closer to the voice that called to her from the shadows. As the distance was closed, Danae sighed heavily. Merick followed of course but kept silent. "Oh Perry... what happened? Who did this to you?" She asked as she neared the bars letting her fingers curl around them and standing before him. He looked terrible... like he had been ganged up one by several. -d-
Peregrine = Wild eyes turned over her shoulder counting the line's where the man who hit her would be kept..his doom coming soon--no doubt. "It's a long story," Returning his gaze to her he lowered his voice curling his hands around the bars as well, "Many lives are in danger, Danae..I need help." Taking a deep breath he shuffled his feet as the world spun around him. "If you can somehow go..flip your hair, bat your eyes..use those hips of yours to get Maahes to let me go. I'll be your slave forever." Such a child like thing to say, but it was heartfelt even though he would grin. "Get Ealora...Eirian..you..he wouldn't say no. I've considered cutting my own hands." Holding up the chains, "But what good that would do to her son's life..." Going silent he put the puzzle together..did she have a set of keys? Leaning against the bars he would pout just a little, sticking out his lip and batting his eyes. (d Danae = She stood silently, her eyes roaming over his face and frame. She hated to see him like this. "You will have to tell me why Perry...you know I can't just go and try to speak reasonably with him without knowing why. Besides, I only do those things for certain people that are deserving." She said in hopes to lighten the mood, even if just a little. "Not to mention he's married... a friend... to a friend. You know me better than that." Her eyes fell to the chains that were connected to his wrists and her jaw twitched. Yes... she had a set of keys... but Merick was currently in possession of them, and Perry would not easily persuade her to have Merick hand them over. It didn't work like that... not anymore. "You won't need to be anyone's slave...just explain to me the circumstances behind all of this... talk.. and I'll consider in maybe trying to help. You know I don't do things without good reason." Her fingers remained curled around the bars, her frame had yet to budge in any direction. -d- Eirian = Of all the places that were deemed "not for a Lady", a prison certainly was high on the list! The day had begun well enough arising before the Turas Lan dawn for prayer, breaking the fast, and duties that if done to the letter of absolute perfection would ensure the futures of several remained-student-to-long artisans and the money in her own pocket would not be snubbed at. Not poor by any means, the times did not mean nobility lived better. The restoration of the Valley and now the re-building of the Artisan's main hall did not come cheap, and Eirian was not one to hoard the coin. Still, it was a tiring process, and by the time of evening's descent she was jut about to fall upon her knees in thanks of another day lived when the tone of it changed to Virgin Mary, what did Peregrine do? Oh, by God, let him retain his head a little while longer...A strange, gnarled blind woman came with her creaking voice insisting for Eirian to come out, spewing a tale of arrests, imprisonment, with Peregrine's name in the middle. Coming from reverence to motions in need of Set In Her Way: swiftness, her graceful stride was coupled with a blind woman's insistence that a pretty face might spare his life. Peregrine was at no shortage for pretty faces(Eirian swore he collected women) but she hoped he had some with good sense! Not knowing that Danae lingered at the free-one's cage, she would all but be pulled on by the old woman as the guard at the entrance was trying to make sense just why she of all people, were there! "One of the younger journeyman has done something foolish, so I have come to attest for his character. Aye, thank you. We will go anon.." Ignore the lecherous faces all prisoners had if they had been in too long, the cat calls and whistles, the reaching hands as she inquired once within where to find Peregrine.(d) Peregrine = "I can't afford for you to 'consider' it, Danae. She could already be dead..her son.." Closing his eyes he clenched the bars trying hard to contain the anger that rose. "I've messed up.." Returning his oceanic eye upon her he took a deep breath clenching his fingers tightly around the bars. "A man hired me to kill his wife..the wife had a hidden son, and the weight of a clan's fate upon her shoulders. Realizing I was on the wrong side, I kidnapped her child put him on my ship to wait while I worked on her." Motioning to the light of day, the only crack inside the holding. "That smoke there..that's my ship or what is left of it by now. The son is in the wrong hands, and I have no doubt she's getting the same of those hands." Anger that filled behind his lips could easily be seen by clenched teeth, darkened features and white knuckles. However he was doing well to remain only angered--frustrated. "This would be what has always separated us Danae. You give a damn in the right places..I don't. I do care..I care about her being free..I want her to be happy..and I've made it worse..Please, go do whatever you can..protect her..Kill Maahes, get me out..something. He'll kill her." Releasing the bars he stepped back into the dark, hearing the gentle steps carrying down the hall. Gypsy Woman = "QUIET, All of ye' I'll curse ye' all if ye' keep up that callin.." The old hag barked in turn beating her walking stick upon the bars, and instantly every soul grew quiet for all feared a Gypsy curse, superstitious fools. "They wanna see skin, child I'll show them skin..though not as fine and tight as yours." She mused with a laugh coming to bump her palm against the backside of the artisan. "Takes me the better of a hour to get me skin in me clothes." (d) Danae = The copper skinned woman standing before him, face to face through metal bars could feel the anger radiating through him like a furnace trying to escape its container. There was a desperate plea in his voice that she had never heard before. As he continued to elaborate on it all, Danae was struggling with what she should do. Should she act now and deal with the consequences later? Or should she go to Maahes, and try to reason with him when time was already of the essence. Her jaw was set as she suddenly became frustrated with herself. "Perry... how do I know this is not another one of your tricks? I can't very well take your word for it..now can I?" She asked as her eyes dropped and while still holding to the bars, a step was taken back as her head hung. "Gods... "She muttered. Finally she broke free from the bars and slowly lifted her gaze to Merick. "Merick... the keys..." She held out her hand. Merick = "But Commander... you know what will happen." There was a silence, if only for a moment. Danae = "Merick-" Merick = The man sighed and nodded. "Yes Commander..." He stepped forth and handed the keys to her. Danae = "I need you to go... gather the best of the men...meet me back here as quick as you can." Really, she was sparing him the possibility of witnessing something that could also have him suffering the same consequences as she, should she do as the others might think. Merick = Merick turned slowly his eyes settled on Perry, he had at one time liked the man, but now.. well there was always going to be skepticism. He'd move on and not look back, passing the old gypsy woman and Eirian as he took his leave. Danae = "Perry... so help me, by the Gods above and below... if you are for one moment lying to me.. you will suffer me." She warned. "As far as Maahes is concerned...I'll handle him. I will go to Eirian and Ealora... explain to them what you have shared with me and hope they will have my back." -d- Eirian = "You needn't go far, Danae. If he is lying then tis quite elaborate.." Indicated by one blind yet very fiesty old woman who gave a pat to Eirian's "tight" posterior which made the Artisan woman flush a bright shade of rose. Taking no interest in her own modesty, however, she looked to Danae, keys in hand. What a story it must have been, Danae holding the keys and the one behind the door could surely move any heart, and for it, they were all poor fools. Apollo's brother had gotten into a great many fixes in his day but of all the grounds to make quake! "Oh, Virgin and St Elizabeth..." She looked to Danae with keys and hand, then toward the poor lout for whom this was worse than any torture. A teasing slit of sun, the dank, four stone walls. "My darling, what have you done...what have you done..Danae, what did he do now, though this looks the worst of it.." Still, the vagabond man found she put her hands through the bars instead of in them, if he could reach with bound hands. What adventure were they all about to take on now (d) Ealora = It was a perfect day in the sense that she had time to spend with her family, not to mention the reappearance of her missing son. That was until Merick appeared on her doorstep with news that Perry had been arrested and Danae was requesting her presence, or rather, Perry was. Even the man admitted to not being completely sure. She was not particularly happy to be leaving her kids behind but even more happy to have to visit him in Jail, not that she didn't owe him, she perhaps owed him more then others knew but the jail...was a prison, in every sense of the word, never would a place hold more fear for a person then it did for Ealora. Jails were of course not made to be pleasant but there was something about the four walls that seemed to yank a persons soul painfully out of their body. That was partly the reason she had come. Slowly she moved down the corridor to stand beside Eirian and Danae without a word. She wasn't going to accuse him of doing something wrong, what else would land him here? She merely wanted to know what exactly was going on. She had learned that while Perry had a way of manipulating a situation to his advantage and sometimes never telling the complete story. One really had to look at what he wasn't saying to get the complete story, so to his credit, she wouldn't speak, wouldn't gile him into feeling..well damned. "Perry..." Celadon eyes swung from Danae with the keys in hand to Eirian and finally to the man behind the bars. Lord above he looked like hell.* Gypsy Woman = "Mmmmmrgh" She would grunt as she took a seat on something..not sure what, but it felt good to sit down. "What will happen is to be determined now upon each of you. Every soul is linked..you and your family, will be the fate of another. It matters not what has happened, but what will happen." Peregrine = Peregrine handled being held in with ease, it wasn't the bars or the stone that had him on edge, but what he was missing on the out. All his life he had seen the inside of jails, hell one of his favorite memories of Apollo was busting him out of that hell...because he frankly couldn't put up with Juliet any longer. It was very easy to see why Apollo cherished this wife so much, as even in a place as dark and destructive as this; she carried a breath of fresh air. With the door opened he moved forward but was restricted by the chains that held his hands. Maahes knew better, and his anger would go through the roof. However, the answer to that just moved in as well, but his attention remained upon the seeing eyes of the artisan. "I need to find where she is..Eirian..can you see her?" Was he crazy? Oceanic hues searched her own for any truth behind his question. Without breaking gaze with the Queen, he would speak to Ealora in a authoritative voice, but one that would forever as well be kind. "Ealora..Maahes is going to be very mad." Maahes = Walking the streets, he moved with his captain listening to the events that have unfolded in the past days, working the puzzle with eager fingers to figure out the best punishment. "So much has happened..it is not like the pirate..For all my years I have not found him a murderer for no reason..You will Question adultery? If that is the case, Rosalind will be charged too. Share his fate..Fearghus saved my life, and I will not see his good name tarnished." (d Danae = Danae continued to stand there with keys in hand, she had yet to put key to lock and free him of his torture. At the sound of Eirian's voice, there was a sense of relief...that perhaps now, Danae would not be the only voice of reason for the beast to hear. And just when she thought reinforcements couldn't get any better, Ealora showed, Merick behind her and what was this? Her brother as well? Gods above and below... things were definitely going to get interesting. While the others spoke, Danae crept forward, unlocked the door and Perry tried to move out, the chains holding him back. It was then, slowly, carefully, she reached up to take one wrist and unlock the iron clad shackle and then the other. She stepped back and simply kept quite for the moment. She looked to Ealora and Eirian. "There is a child's life at stake... know that is the only reason why I do this." Merick stepped aside as Ren came forward. Ren = "Danae... what are yo doing?" He asked as he moved to close the distance between them. "You are going to risk quite a bit for this?" He asked as his eyes looked to Perry. "You know.. father would be disappointed." He added. Danae = Danae scowled at her much larger brother, he was older yes, but not always wiser. "Ren... I'm not doing it for him... I'm doing it for that child... there's to much that's teetering on the edge of chaos here. There are clans at stake...a birth right, .... enough bloodshed has been made... I want to see it end.Father would not find that disappointing." She looked to Ealora then. "I'm hoping you will back me up on this? I'm sure Merick has told you everything." Danae glanced to him, she knew the man would go to Ealora, and perhaps this was another reason she had sent Merick off. The rest of Danae's men of course waited outside. She then turned to Perry. "When you go.. go with my best men.. they will do as you order." -d- Eirian = "Connected indeed, old woman. So connected that if we do not make haste we will all be swinging.." When Danae unlocked the shackles she took his hands. They were like ice, and her heart broke for him. She did consider what this would mean, but in hearing him ask for her, and in evident nature of who that was? She couldn't help but to look at all of them and the him. "Peregrine, you are a fool. An ennobled one at times, but a fool! God grant you sense! God grant us cover and pray for time..." Clans - the valley was restoring so well now, the planting season beginning, the livestock. All that had not been cared for in winter was being done so now, with doubly led work. She worked Set In Her Way: to restore the presence of the artisans and even their most simple offerings of fabric, quills, paper, bone needles, inks, of supplies to generate economic value. All of this was hinging on the edge of the sea cliffs waiting to topple in. "I will find her for you" Don't ask how the small woman would find anything but a crevice to slide out in, for that would be another tale. "Why could not have women wed shepherds or ship makers..no, Generals." She empathized with Ealora in that Generals, especially former Avarian ones, were by no means dull. So adventurous in fact that the women who married them ought be given saint hoods. "Come, come I can do nothing of it here.." Out of all things the last thing one need here was "witch" being shouted across the prison walls (d) Ealora = Celadon eyes swung from Perry to the old woman who seemed to be mumbling nonsense or at least nonsense to her. She wasn't really picking up on the whole situation yet, but she had a feeling, she would. "Let me deal with Maahes and his anger..."Hands were shoved into the pockets of her Captains Coat, even in the grim situation, she was oh so happy to be fitting back into that coat. It was more then just material that kept her warm, it was a mark of honor, a standing of position. Her head tipped in a nod to Danae. Of course she would back her up and she knew the situation. A grin itched at the corner of her mouth at Eirian's words. "Because we would love no one better...no one less" Not that the woman was asking for a reply to the statement but there it was. What could she do for Perry at this point? She was still trying to work that out in her mind. She of course still had information to gather for Perry and now? It was even more important to get it. "Just who are you charged with murdering Perry?" She'd stand off to the side as Danae unlocked the door and moved to unlock the chains from the mans wrists. Leave it to Perry to choose the wrong side, realize the mistake and try to correct it. He'd done it once before hadn't he? "Something does not sit right here, even if I have to demand an investigation and run it myself, in any case Perry, you will not suffer for it.." Now the charge of adultry? Perry liked his women like a drunk liked his liquor, that she couldn't deny but a married woman? Somehow she didn't believe either party were guilty of that. She could be wrong but well..she'd been wrong and right dozens of times, this was just another one to add to either pile. "Perhaps we should get you off of Skye all together till this is resolved. Since your ship is no more, I'm offering mine." She knew what that meant but she couldn't well let him hang or burn for something he didn't do. She knew what that felt like.* Peregrine = "Why...Danae...I didn't know you...uh..had a big brother." f**k. A cheeky grin even behind the blood that dried on his face and matted curls. "Such a big..brother too." Yes, Eirian that's it Eirian, pull me away...Run! run! run! My what big eyes you have, brother..and such hands..Why the better for beating you with. The Pirate could almost hear Ren's words. Oh how he would hide in behind that little petite figure of the artisan as dude I think your sister is hot, and she's rocked my boat many times. Just didn't seem to help its way to the surface, but then again he often asked for trouble. "I've killed the men that follow the Lamont clan one by one for the past two weeks, Ealora....That's reason enough to have my head, but everything I've done it's been to protect her. Your husband is a simple minded man who holds honor very high. The last battle, Fearghus was knocked with the very same money he hired me with..who then stumbled blindly into battle and removing Maahes from harm. Lord General thinks he is a great man, for a task that would not have happened had I not try to kill Lamont first. He's a bad man, Ealora..he hits her. Danae..Eirian." Hell that would have been reason enough to have Bess come out of retirement right? "Thank you for the offer, Ealora but I'm not running this time. I have a vendetta now, and I will not go without it being answered." Ha! Imagine that, he's going to actually stick around and finish something he started. "You know more then any how little this world around me means. I'll be more then happy to burn for this, but I won't let another be punished for my mistake. Now..I've got to find her." (d Ren = Ren continued to look between all the faces of the women around him, of course his eyes settled on those of his sister. He had such a look on his face of displeasure that Danae simply stared back at him and hard at that. Danae = At Perry's voice and the words he spoke, she looked to him and back as Ren seem to put himself between the pirate and his sister. She elbowed him hard, pushing past him to keep from being overshadowed. "Stop it Ren... I'm not a little girl anymore." She snarled as she reclaimed her place. Ren = Ren of course stared at Perry, even leaned in, over Danae's shoulder. "This is the last time she will help you..." He growled. The man was like some huge ass black panther creeping out to get a whiff of his prey before attacking. Danae = Danae turned to Ren. "Ren! Stop...now..." Ren = He simply looked from Perry and back to Danae. "I know you left out quite a bit of your history with this man, but what you failed to share... your men speak of freely when drunk. And I'll not have my sister's end come to be because of some tyrant like him." Oi.. here went the brother and sister argument it seemed. Danae = Danae shoved him back. "This is not the time or place for this and we have settled our differences... " She yelled back before both grew quiet into another staring game. Danae finally turned to the others. "If there is anything else I can do...just.. find me.. tell me and I will try to help." She said as it seemed they would all be leaving the dirty hall and cells now. Merick and Ren were last of course. -d- Eirian = "Can we not save the arguments for another juncture!" She hissed over her shoulder to the brother and sister debacle as the man stepped forward to preserve his sister honor while the pirate was trying his hardest not to vocalize what his face was expressing well enough. Ealora stood erect in her Captain's coat, offering aid and words that Eirian could not help but to smile at. Now, the next quandary was evidently getting out undetected. What an ensemble: Two angry greeks, a bloody (if not haughty) pirate, a tiny artisan holding his hand and Ealora in Captain's coat. How foolish to think she should spend the evening awaiting her husband or in chapel! "Is there any way to commandeer a wagon to hide him in, beneath the hay and supplies? Then we can drive it to a place where there might be regrouping." And wine or ale. Yes, for all of her piety Eirian was not alien to the benefits of a good bit of drink now and again. More humorous still was as she lifted her dress hems to come over her arm to step a might more freely, tucking them up in the sash at her waist. Lithe little games clad in white knit stockings saw a low door up ahead. " Must be the laundress' door, is that so Danae? Looks as it might be where the washer-folk go." At least she was from the countryside! (d) Ealora = "Thats exactly what I needed to know. I'll talk to Maahes and before you arguing against me telling him this information, your life is at stake and its a far better life then this...Fearghus.." She stepped in, a hand raising before he could argue. No she wasn't going to tell him of Perry's little assisted break out but she surely was not looking forward to the discussion she was going to have with her husband onight. "Hey hey!" Her voice rose to the arguing siblings, now this she knew to well. "Eirian is right, save it for another time but just so you know...Ren..is it, that your sister has done just fine without you all this time. She is a grown woman who can make her own decisions, a Commander in her own right, blood doesn't mean you own one iota of her being." Of course she would come to Danae's defense on that matter. "You wanna be a slave master, you take it elsewhere, not with her or any other woman in Skye." As bleak as the situation was, siblings arguing, former queen and one old pirate captain to a reforming one, well bloody hell they were a sight. A wink was sent to Danae, before her hand went to Perry back as Eirian helped him down the corridor. "Even a covered wagon with him in it, we're going to need a distraction...I could always ride down the street all lady godiva..."This was no time to tease and while the grin that pulled at her lips spoke of it being just that, she was really, quite serious to. "First to get you out of here Perry, then you can stay and fight and while I'm rather proud of you for it, I'll smack you for your foolishness later. You can't go blindly jumping into a fight and get yourself killed, then all will be for nothing and we don't want that."* Gypsy Woman = Suddenly laughter spilled from the room a gentle laughter full of life and charm. It came with age, with the world around them coming to life. "You ladies..have such right minds. Why not a naked horseback ride through the streets, I am sure that there will be little notice of one fool with so many." Raising then she would move to follow Eirian out. Maahes = However, in the dark of the hallway guards would raise alarm. "Close off all exits, raise the flag" Orders were fired off into the air, and the drums would starting breaking a General from his conversation. The English would be quick to attack, get back what was there's. Never would he have guessed at what he would find. "Ealora..Eirian?" The room was suddenly missing two as old hag gathered young hands and pulled the pirate free. The air was sucked from the room as the flames burst over darkened flesh. He would not need to question what was going on..nor have any words that he could find. However the men over his shoulder's with wide eyes would be the melting point.."If he is not returned by nightfall lock them both up." With that he would press past the guards and the men would look at the women. Maahes would pass a look to Danae, "Did you try and stop this?" (d Danae = Danae gave one last forceful shove to her brother to get him off her really before she moved past the others and was now in front. Danae caught the wink from Ealora after the woman stood up to the Greek male of a brother. Danae had to smirk of course, suddenly finding humor in all of it. Ren = He gave a look that showed he had not expected for anyone to stand up and speak on Danae's half other than Danae. He gave Ealora a rather nasty look and narrowed his eyes at her. "She is my sister... I have every right to see to her well being... even if it means trying to keep her away from men like him." He said as his head tilted in the general direction of Peregrine. "And there is a difference between a brother and a slave master...." After he held his gaze to hers for a long moment, he simply moved off. Not giving her a chance to reply, even if she had intentions to. If she did, it would be to his back. Danae = As her eyes turned to where Eirian indicated a possible door for the laundry and all, she nodded. "Yes.. I think that's what it is." She said before freezing in place. The look that crossed her face was one of surprise of course but was quickly shifted to the usual stoic look. Managing to pull it off just in time before Maahes would catch on. Or so she hoped. Merick of course was with them and Ren too. At the question he posed... suddenly Danae was faced with another de lima. Should she tell the truth and admit her part in this... or lie... and try to figure out a way to make him understand later. Anyone that knew Danae would know she would never do the latter. But... with the boys life at stake... there was a first time for everything. "Of course I did... Merick was the one that came to inform me. I brought my brother with me to help." Gods... was that thunder she heard from up above? -d- Eirian = It would be just a few more feet to the laundress door, then from there finding the necessaries to cover him. From there, who knew where they would go or what they would ultimately do, but Eirian considered these plans with the ramifications awaiting if they were......no if to be, the definite occurred as the sound of the guards called out. To do this, in a time of war was worse than peace because the guard would be thicker. "Damn!" The little bird trilled a song that would be a lovely melody on a discordant word for the General's ears, and his, if not everyone's shared shock as the small woman ventured even one swear word! There was little time between the call of the guard and coming face to face with the sudden emergence of a mountain that blocked the way. Just as she was going to hold Peregrine tighter, the old woman set the youths free to spirit the rogue away with feats of daring do. Were it a festival, they would have appreciated it. As it was little time was hanging for the sun's sojourn in the Skye. Turning her face to Ealora, both of them were assuredly going to end up behind the iron bars of the jail cells of which this was the nicest portion, for others could be worse as they went down into the depths of the city, away from the sun. All she could see was the life precariously balanced on that cliff again. Blue orbs sealed beneath the pale lids, soot lashes brushing cheeks in a butterfly's kiss as she said nothing, only shook her head softly and awaited what was to come. In an ironic way, she had spent the better part of a year running from just such a fate. The Devil was in the details, and now he came to collect, didn't he? When her eyes opened again she merely stood, looking to the smoke where Peregrine had been and was one of less than a handful who believed in him now to set it right(d) Ealora = The guards called out and Ealora hissed under her breath as she whirled around, catching Eirian's eye, both women knew what would be in store for them now. Her hand took Eirian's into her own, cupping it between two solid hands. Could either of them say that this wasn't one thing considered might happen for what they were willing to do for Perry? It was indeed now within Perry's hands. As the women came when he called, they would now look to him to set things to right. That was not to say Ealora expected him to waltz back into the jail and gratefully go back into a cell, Ealora would indeed be pissed, after they risked their lives...their image to see him set free to do the right thing. Celadon eyes slid to Maahes at his apparent and well founded shock at seeing the two women there but all ready her eyes were sliding to Danae's backside as she lied. Good girl, no need for the three of them to be locked up with no way to see things to right. She did not expect Danae to tell the truth, she was glad the woman had enough sense to consider that the lie, meant more in the end then not. "Hello Sweetheart.."she seemed to purr at Maahes, no she wasn't going to deny what she was doing but nor did she expect he wanted to hear it right now. Let him steam in thinking his beloved queen and loving wife had betrayed him. He'd no doubt seek the truth when his anger had grown to a point where it could not be contained. Even Ealora knew that much of her husband.*
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 14, 2009 22:57:29 GMT -6
Rosalind's return was as solemn as a funeral procession. Through servants' passages, she was returned to her chambers. The key fit the lock, the tumbler turned, and Rosalind became a prisoner in her own domain. While that man held onto her child, she was powerless. Real terror coursed through her veins, and even hours after the morning's events, her heart pounded and her knuckles remained a tense white as they gripped the cloth of her shawl. She sat before the fire, and let the tears stream silently down her cheeks.
The preparations for the ceilidh were well underway, and servants were removing items of the household to make the guests comfortable at the reclaimed MacRuari castle. The party was that evening, and in lieu of the powerful blow she had received that morning, a healer came in to tend to the mark on her face. Within hours, the redness had faded, and nothing but memory remained of the ordeal.
Though it seemed horribly wrong to be asleep during the best hours of daylight, she had nothing else to keep her occupied. Her chambers were empty of all save herself. She dreamed, only long enough to awaken herself with sobs of terror. Bodies in trees and burning prisons, Domhnall's soulless gaze and blood running through the stones of Inveryne -- they were all connected, and today, she had lost her war.
When Fearghus returned, he calmly set out her rules. The court was moving to the MacRuari castle for the ceilidh. She was not to approach Bess, but she was not to be derelict in her duties. She would put on a smile at the ceilidh. If she failed in any of these demands, he was not responsible for the accidents of a three-year-old child.
She washed and dressed, sliding her stiletto into the pocket hidden by the stiff brocade, tucked the strands of her hair beneath her wimple, and fasted the clasp of her cloak at her neck. Fearghus was waiting at the door, and without looking at her, he took her arm in his, and they left for where the court was waiting in the yard.
They were laughing, merrily anticipating the ceilidh and the break in routine, happily suggesting what surprises and games lay in store, and perhaps, daydreaming of what trouble they could get into with the Pope's dispensation from the Lenten fast. Rosalind, without a single reminder from her husband, joined in the activities, laughing when it was called for, assisting where needed, keeping the younger ones entertained until all who would ride were mounted, and all who would sit in the carts were seated.
She would have made a fine actress, the Lady Inveryne. Nothing was revealed on her face. Even the lack of sleep failed to show; her powder was of the finest quality, and she had painted herself well for the fall.
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Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on Mar 15, 2009 14:04:17 GMT -6
-.-.-
"Why is it that you go, when no one else will go, m'lady?"
"For in that there is no one else to go, and these things can not be done on their own. They suffer, and who are we, if able, to allow that?"
"What if you were to die?"
"What would make that day dfferent than any other where Death conspired to take me?" [/center] -.-.- Eamonn: The prior night of rain made the ground soft and soggy, something that Eamonn rather disliked about these Scottish Isles. The mud could be rather strong in sucking your feet and it did little on the feet and legs of a horse. The afternoon sun was trying to peek through the grey clouds, now empty of their loads, or so Eamonn hoped. Finbar snorted, shaking his large head back and forth to rid his mane and coat of the remaining droplets of water. However, Eamonn approached with a blanket and began to dry his horse down, not wanting the still cold air to make his horse sick. For hours now, Eamonn had been awake, but the time had been spent attempting to hunt what game they could for a meal today and tomorrow. Some men were still out hunting. Despite the layers of armour he wore, Eamonn was actually grateful for them; it kept his frame warm. Once Finbar was dry, Eamonn brushed the tall horse down, making sure he was in top condition. The amount of days they had been out on the marches no one seemed to be able to recall...or want to. Hopefully there would be an end to this war, at least Eamonn hoped so. Camp fires still blazed strong now that the rain was gone, some men in their little camp groups were heating waters, others sitting near to keep warm. Releasing a sigh from his lips, a grey cloud formed and drifted on the air to dissipate on the breeze. Patting the muscular shoulder of Finbar, Eamonn placed the dry blanket over him. Eirian: A soft, wet ground to a girl grown to near maidenhood on the British Isle merely saw it for what it was. A seasonal muck that stuck to your shoes, coated skirt hems, and made it feel like the whole world were trying to pull itself into the middle for warmth. A few days of slight sun and the melting city snow had spoiled some into thinking Skye would be awash in the same unusual spring that happened with the ships from Scotland came to Turas Lan harbor holding the rulers and court. Alas, Spring in Scotland meant thicker mists until summer heat could burn them off. It meant that winter was liable to hang on for that much longer. Ferocious, if it didn't snow, it would rain. A cold, heavy rain that stung but not the sweet smelling stuff of poet's daydreams. Reality was different from the succor of art; just how willing some women and men were to embrace it was dependant entirely on them. Eirian held the reigns of the lead wagon across her gloved hands. Like the other women on the wagon with and aft of her, they wrapped their thick, woolen plaids over their heads. Enclosing an end over the neck, it served to keep the shoulders and up free of chill. "Do you think the men have been making due alright? It looks awful." The companion on the flat seat looked to Eirian, tucking her arms around her body. They pulled the tarps harder over the goods stocked inside to keep them free of moisture. A man-at arms rode opposite the knightor two that could be spared for the venture outward to those that needed supplies. Expecting nothing, what it must have looked like to see the wagon trail through the mists, see the familiar signs of the Griffin and the soft spoken lure of feminine tongue. "They make due because they must. There is no other way." Small hands ceased the wagon with ease as the guards went out to inform the men of the camp that supplies had come from the city: food stores, blankets, needles and thread for sewing, finished tents, leathers. Fresh water, ale. (d) Eamonn: Had Eamonn been born in a land that rained as much as Scottish Territories did, he would be much akin to the muddy terrain as well. The morning fogs, now, were becoming worse than in the dead of winter, which Eamonn silently doubted was any better. The tall spears that had flags and banners attached to them were placed here and there around the campsite as a whole to ward off foes and welcome enemies. The good thing about armour for the riders was the simple fact that it hid the hardships of war, what many people did not notice if they had no loved ones to serve in the military. Some men had thinner faces, what fat had been there was gone and features were far more pronounced. Winter was a harder war to fight because hunting became scarce, many of the animals in hibernation or in the depths of the woods where they would be safe from predators. The managed with what they had by rationing. Stale, hard bread was Godsend to have, and the stews, though lacking in abundancy of meats and vegetables, it was hot and warmed the body from within. Truly, it made you appreciate a good, hot meal. Riders, on foot, as their horses were being given rest, stopped the knights, hands upon the hilt of their swords as a measure of precaution. When the knights said that there were women with a wagon of supplies, the riders' were thoroughly shocked. ``Send word to the Lord Marshal! Quickly!`` One of them ordered, and doing as told, the man ran through the mud and muck toward the Lord Marshal. Brows furrowed and his hazel eyes widened. A wagon? With supplies? How the hell did it find them so far into the woods? How did it escape enemy attacks? Moving away from Finbar, the tall, blonde Marshal jogged after the rider toward the wagon, where other riders had gathered and were already helping unload, their faces brighter with hope at the sight of more food, blankets, precious commodities that many people took for granted. Eamonn turned his eyes to the...women...on the seat of the cart and his brows furrowed. ``...Eirian? What the hell possessed you to come so deep into the woods? You could have been killed.`` He scolded, though Eamonn was more than pleased to see her, and not because of the cargo she carried, but because she was alive in times of war for her brave deed. Eirian: She pushed back the edges of the wrap upon her head, revealing that it was indeed she who held the reigns at the front wagon. Waisting no time she pointed to certain things and sent out both young men and women alike to help the knight set up new tents if old ones were beyond weathered and to repair the ones that could still stand with their bone needles and tight threads. "Yes, at once! Heat up the broths we made, and the bread loaves by wrapping the thin clothes over them and placing them over the boards above the fire, and the stew set fast 'pon that. Thick, gravy thick! Of the tunics, the pants and hose, yes, find who will fit them if not you will measure and cut straight away." Strands of mist sodden hair clung against forehead, curled against the side of her cheek. No smile had yet crossed her features until a voice scolded her for so brave an adventure. How long had it been since they had done more than pass one another? "Supplies and need of them. His Grace commisioned all to the task, though few have made the venture it seems..unless ye have learned to live on mist and mud alone." Passing the reigns off to the right of her, she came down the wagon by swinging her foot towards the wheel and climbing down in three spaced steps. Turning toward the wagon itself, she hitched the front of her skirts up by the ingenius use of clasps to keep it from the mud, allowing the older lots to take the wreckage. "I am not dead, you are not dead. So." Her smile lengthened until teeth were shown, bringing a twinkle to the slight blight of the seasons to her eyes. (d) Eamonn: This was indeed a most pleasant surprise. Eirian had risked her life as well as the other women here to bring them supplies. Foolish women, damn their stubbornness...but bless their brave and generous hearts. Eamonn was shocked, very, to see anyone brave enough to attempt to deliver a wagon of supplies so far outside of the city and to a camp of riders in the woods. Literally, they had been surviving off of rations or the chance that they might have found a wild hare or two for skinning. Other than that, there was no surplus of food, no berries or vegetation to feed on. Not in winter. It had, indeed, been some time since he last saw the lady Scholar, perhaps since before she left for Avaria. Now she returned while he was away at war for most of the time, ever since he recovered from the bolt in the chest--which was present in the form of a healing scar over those he already had hidden under the layers of armour and clothing he had. Hazel eyes turned from her and toward the wagon, watching the men start to swarm it, everyone helping to unload it, spirits were brightened and the languid movements in their steps gone. Eamonn sighed and shook his head. Pressing lips together, his tired, keenly featured face turned to Eirian once more. But, seeing her climbing down from the wagon, Eamonn offered to help her down, making sure the small woman did not fall over. ``Not mists and mud. If that were so, we would all be fat and happy. We live on rationings and what we are fortunate to find...which is more chancy than anything.`` Eamonn replied, glancing over his armoured shoulder, watching one rider pick upa woman and to save her skirts from being caked in mud, he carried her toward their camp group and toward the fire to get warm and put out some of that stew! Eamonn rolled his eyes and turned back to Eirian. ``Thank you, Eirian.`` The blond Marshal said, sincerely. Eirian had no idea just how much hope her wagon and presence brought. ``But you should not be out here, Eirian. Once this wagon is emptied you go back to your lands and STAY there. This is too dangerous for you.`` And by that Eamonn meant the best, not wanting her to perish and leave her infant child motherless. Eamonn and his men fought to prevent such things from happening. Eirian: "Well, we shall have to make you fat and happy on true fare then." As he intended to send her away at its unloading, it was evident the work to be done with it would keep her here some small measure longer. Taking it from a passing boy on his way to deliver other meats out to be cooked, Eirian took the line where on it already feathered chickens were waiting to be cooked. In another she handed Eamonn was venison and rabbit stew meat. "Come, tell me where I should be as I start a stew and roast these chickens." Some of the women were tentative of the men. Shy, wondering what they thought, quiet and unsure as they did their work while the boys talked to some of the knights, squires, and yeomen recruits to find out just what it was like here. In the swirl of uncertainty from some Eirian was the center of a perfect storm. Calm and maybe entirely too at home for Eamonn's taste with such things, she merely waited to be led toward a place where she might do what she came to do."Lad, bring that roll with you, too, I imagine the Lord Marshall should be within a tent, unless he intends to eat in the mud." For one so small she handled the brace of fat chickens on one hand while keeping balance in the sticking mud with the other. Something had changed in Eirian, or perhaps was more brought forward that hadn't been seen before. Against the brown plaids she was wrapped in, at her waist was evidence of a bit of steel defense (d) Eamonn: At this point, many of his riders were so happy to see food and supplies, they ignored the tentative nature of the women and carried them through the muds to save their pretty dresses--no matter how plain they appeared. Those that were asked what it was like to be here would answer in the same manor: it was hell. You were cold, the fire was warmth but food became scarce and you had to ration, some days you went without food, or had a bite of hard bread. Many of the horsemen had used their tents as blankets for their horses in the cold, Eamonn was no different. The horses were important and everyone took care of them. Eamonn stared down at Eirian, silently admiring the woman's bravery or At this point, many of his riders were so happy to see food and supplies, they ignored the tentative nature of the women and carried them through the muds to save their pretty dresses--no matter how plain they appeared. Those that were asked what it was like to be here would answer in the same manor: it was hell. You were cold, the fire was warmth but food became scarce and you had to ration, some days you went without food, or had a bite of hard bread. Many of the horsemen had used their tents as blankets for their horses in the cold, Eamonn was no different. The horses were important and everyone took care of them. Eamonn stared down at Eirian, silently admiring the woman's bravery or foolishness. Whatever the reason, Eamonn did not linger on long. Jutting his bearded chin, Eamonn motioned toward his camp site, where some of the younger boys had already gone, some even in awe of the horses around. As expected, Eamonn offered his arm to help Eirian through the mud and soft terrain, which he had been trudging through for some time now. ``Most of our tents became blankets for our horses, and some blankets bandages.`` The glint of metal was a welcomed sight to see on the smaller woman, but still. Once they reached the camp that Eamonn sat at, he crouched down to help rebuild the fire suitable for roasting and cooking. Eamonn was not above helping, he never pretended to be. Like the others, he too was stuck in this rut and mud. However, unlike some, he had been through this before...without the saving grace of a wagon full of supplies. ``You return to the city, yes?`` Eamonn asked, his eyes still on the task of adjusting the fire. ``Eirian, I need you to take Gurthwold with you.`` Gurthwold was the wounded horsman, laying down on the ground, wrapped in blankets and propped up on a log. The young rider frowned, looking toward the Lord Marshal. ``But my Lord...I can still fight..it's not that bad...`` He protested, but the Lord Marshal would hear none of it. ``Nonsense. His leg is badly wounded and his sides are bruised, perhaps even worse. It will only be his death if he stays in this cold. Take him and his horse with you, Eirian. See that he gets treated.`` And Eamonn rose from his position and walked over to Gurthwold. A gloved hand was placed on the young man's head. ``You did well. You are no good to us half-alive or dead. There will be plenty of fights and battles, Gurthwold, that I promise you.`` The stoic Marshal said, before helping the young boy set the tent up Eirian: Foolishness or bravery didn't seem to matter as the hands grabbed up stores and stores of supplies to rebuild the camp winter had ravaged. Spring was nigh, but here? It felt that like the mud the seasons were stuck in frozen time. She listened to Eamonn as he spoke on the nature of what had become of their supplies. Tents were made of cloths and canvas. Easily shredded to become bandages, which meant they lacked clean bandages all together, as the tents could taken on mold or fungus from the wet weather. She seemed to nod her head as if to instantly deduce what the spare fabrics could be for once the tent fabric was erected. "Have you healers with you? Hands are hands, and they take direction well." What a luxury it was in Turas Lan to have the medicinal excellence that blighted down plagues and bouts of illness. Still, such knowledge was often in the keeping of a few men and women in cottages who could make do with two herbs and hot water. If there were healers about, they could surely use the assistance, if not, the least they could do was clean a wound, bandage it, perhap stop a fever or bring hope to man in pain. Gurthwold's story made Eirian turn her head. Pausing for the time that Eamonn went to set up the tent, she knelt beside Gurthwold, "We shall take you to the Capital city, where on the roads there and once home you will be revered a hero. A hero who will no doubt regail the healers so that you might stand erect when this is done. But for now, we will make do with a good stew, some bread and chicken, and getting you ready." Tugging off what was around her own form, she drapped the plaid wool around Gurthwold ,"Rest you, good Gurthwold." Now her hair came down in a long, thick braid just beyond her lower back, the end bound up or it would have been somewhere near her ankles. The cottons, wools, and soft leathers of her garb did well enough to keep her warm now. On a fire stoked for cooking, the first thing she did was to prepare the chickens to go on a spit. Gentility? Perhaps, but she was a barefoot girl in the country before anything else. A little hard work never harmed a soul(d) Eamonn: The bandages that they used were cleaned as best as could be made, dipped in hot water and left to dry to provide some sort of sanitary supplies. They used what they had available, fallen limbs to become makeshift splints for a broken arm or leg. They did not have all the medical supplies that the physicians of Turas Lan had, and if they did, they had long since been extinguished. Eamonn paused in his task of erecting the new tent and glanced over to Eirian, watching her comfort and sooth Gurthwold's nerves and spirit. Eamonn sighed softly, glad to see the young man would be in better hands in the infirmary. Saying nothing at the moment, Eamonn finished putting up the tent and patted the boy's shoulder and pointed him off to his next little deed to take the pale of warm water, which had been taken off the fire moment before the wagon came, and water his horse--the task that he was going to do before Eirian and her travelling band came. Moving back toward Eirian, he offered himself to help her whatever else she needed him to do as far as cooking. Eamonn knew how to cook a meal, at least a simple meal like stew and roasting an animal. ``He was out healer...Eirian. Gurthwold. Everyone here knows basic medical needs for injuries, or at least as much as a rider can know. How to wrap a wound, pressure, things of that nature. But, Gurthwold was our last healer...his mentor, Adaf, died two week prior due to the frost. He was old, and the winter finally got to him. I told him to go back to the city...but he refused. His horse is there, the company's only pack horse now.`` Eamonn said under his breath so the resting Gurthwold would not hear him and only Eirian. Even though he appeared stoic and distant about it, Eamonn was sad to lose any man. As a Marshal and commander, it was his duty to make sure every single man made it home. Each loss was a harsh blow to him, but Eamonn never uttered it. No commanding officer did. Eirian: That was the nature of an encampment. Dwindling supplies had to be rationed and creativity is what kept you alive. She remembered beneath the ground of Honheldagus, the trips she took to Skye in secret. It pained her not to tell them when she came or when she went, but it was for the purpose of purchasing things in Skye that had to be smuggled to Avaria. Once the tent was pitched, she passed the chickens off to eamonn so he could secure the spit on the fire himself. "We have brought the simple things with us, cloth for bandages, some herbs from the women's kitchens, dried and such, and our needles. I will take your worst back with me and to the infirmary." It went without saying that the badly injured or sick could slow them all down. That the elder healer died and the younger was ailing meant that the men were living on their basic knowledge. At least the presence of good hands and wife sense could buy them a little time. "One of the men was leading an extra horse as he rode, take it, to lighten the burden of that one." Walking down a little ways she took a basket of vegetables from one of the women, and listened as she said the fires were stoked and things were being made , was there anything else they should make while it was hot? "Tistanes and just hot water to clean with." Anything that could be cleaned ought be, it would cut down on infections one could get in this weather. "It is a hard road you travel." She said to Eamonn, letting the basket come down on a little table brought with them. It wasn't much, but at least Eamonn and othe rmen could sleep undergood tents and warmer bedrolls or low cots. Over in a corner one could see the women stuffing hay into fabric to make palets. Without the shawl on, one could see against the back of her neck the more recent scars she had acquired, prominent now, from the flush of movements making it red (d) Eamonn: Taking the chickens from Eirian, Eamonn pulled out the piece of long wood and slid the chickens onto them so they could be placed over the fire to be cooked and roasted. In the eyes of every man here that called themselves.... To be continued...[/font]
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Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on Mar 16, 2009 11:18:51 GMT -6
Coastal ice packs now grew thin under the warming temperatures of the earliest of spring… ground movement slowed as mud thickened under the rains… but ships began to reload for setting sail. Now would be the time to ready the ships for a spring battle upon the seas.
Lord Maubrey, from Glasgow, had issued orders in early winter to board, or sink, Skye or Scot ships at random, with an ever choke-hold upon them as winter grew heavy with snow and ice. His initial plan was to starve Skye. He was now angry that a mere 3 ships were sunk all winter. He demanded better results, but since Lord Aberdeen had not allowed ships asail, there was none to be attacked.
There was one mistake that Maubrey made unconsciously… Upon the seas, he had throttled Skye, but left Scotland unbridled. He had expected the Bruce to be overly cautious and stay much to himself and keep Scotland out of the fray with Skye. Maubrey considered that if Skye fell first, then it would be days before Scotland capitulated.
Secretly, Adam had visited Ireland. None but his wife and the Lord Admiral even knew he was gone. Their entry thru Dunlace would begin a campaign of words. The speeches would be Adam’s words, but the voice of the Lord Admiral would speak… of Skye’s promise to support Ireland in her fight against the English. To restore the freedom the Irish lived under the Ceannfort… The Lord Admiral and Adam would visit the small villages and towns that Jack knew would support Skye… weapons and supplies would be delivered, hence rearming an underground army that lay dormant.
Next was the surprise tour that Jack would get from Adam. The visiting of a new fleet of refitted ships, all armed with a new deck, an upgraded steering mechanism, and rows of rifled bored cannon. The twenty-pounder cannon were a ship captain’s new dream. All along the western coast, right under the English blockade, were camouflaged ship dry-docks, working night and day on the upgrades… and the new ships. To conceal the work, the noises were hidden by the building of new forts along the coast. Forts Adam had no intention of using, except to hide the sounds of a navy being built.
How could Skye afford such endeavors? Using the Templar coffers, borrowing money from allies, and raiding the English. Many years before, the Templars were protected by the MacRauri’s… Skye’s infrastructure, especially Turas Lan, was built mainly by the Templars, with their architectural excellence intended as a new haven for them… but when Lord MacRauri was killed, they went into seclusion, hording an untold fortune. Now it was time for the Templars to aid the MacRauri’s once again. And so they did….
The English fleets, flying the flag of a great nation… yet the flagship flew the Maubrey banner… It was Maubrey commanders in charge of the King’s fleet… Little did the English King himself know that Maubrey was bit by bit, usurping the reins of power from him. It was Maubrey’s orders that demanded a battle plan for the Navy to bottle up the Isles… to choke off the capital… to make live stringent throughout the land… The Isle of Raasay had many troops of Maubrey stationed on it… ships in its harbours… Only Scalpay would offer the Skye fleet harbor off island. The southwestern corner of Scotland, the seas between Skye and the mainland were riddled with English warships that provided teeth to the blockade…
The Griffin Fleet made ready for war. Every ship that could be mustered - from armed merchantmen, to river boats, to the grand warships - had been called together. The very spars of the ships made a forest of wood, canvas, and rigging that threatened to block out the sun. On the gun decks, men put their backs into loading the great cannons that would soon crush the English blockade to the city.
In the days that followed, there came about a wave of sea battles… the first and foremost was the Battle of Raasay Sound… It would be the most decisive victory at sea in hundreds of years. Skye’s victory would soon catapult her into the annals of history as one of the most powerful sea-powers. The victory at the Battle of Raasay Sound would soon be exemplified as the catalyst for the English subsequent defeats at sea. “Long Live the Griffin…”
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Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on Mar 16, 2009 11:57:26 GMT -6
The trebuchets lined the field… mud trails marked their origins… Mangonels stationed at the most strategic places to thwart enemy attacks. Ballistas were spread amongst the war machine. Logistics were a nightmare. Scot villages were raped, pillaged, and then destroyed in its wake. Months in the undertaking, Lord Maubrey would inch his war machine across Scotland, raping its woods… its people enslaved for the construction of a war machine… toward Skye… to the very western coast of Scotland… and crossing a channel to invade the land of the Aberdeens and MacRauris.
Not all his war machines would leave Scotland. He had turned around every 2 of three of them around to prevent attack from the Scots. His line was the western coast of Scotland, leaving its interiors as a second line of offense. His main efforts now across the channels.
Frustrated in a winter campaign, he knew he had to advance ahead of the Aberdeen defense. He demanded his generals to continue the lines of offense despite appalling weather and conditions of winter and into early spring. A vast army such as his would lay waste in a summer campaign… but William would not wait. He knew his son… the Gryphon of Scotland… would soon gain more allegiance and support. He had to attack now.
In Turas Lan, Adam received daily reports of the Maubrey movements in northern England and Scotland. The riders of the information network were extremely tired, their mounts worn out. Still Adam pressed his own generals for a line of defense to protect Skye… the line often becoming offensive in order to establish that linear protection.
Skye’s own weaponmaster, Lord Zurban, had been busy, making sure each and every weapon in Skye’s arsenal was ready for action. Cables replaced, wood supports re-examined, arrows sharp and placed where they will be needed the most. The royal coffers were almost empty, the Templars were once again in financial support. Adam paced the castle endlessly, followed by messengers of deployed units… status reports offered, pleas of more and more from each commander.
“Borders are scratched across the hearts of men, by strangers with a calm, judicial pen, and when the borders bled… we watch in dread, the lines of ink across the map turn red.” He said in a meeting of generals, his voice clear with the King’s English, no Gaelic overtone at all. “I want all men to stand their ground… Give nothing… take everything from them…” his voice low but stern…
He looked at the map sprawled over the large eating table, glancing to the generals surrounding him as each one spoke of their command. Not only were their generals of the Gryphon Army, but generals from allies… Argania, France, Castielle, Papal States, and even a general of the Teutonic Knights of Germania… “Looks as though we have a good plan… My compliments to you all. I offer you nothing… not gold, nor land…but freedom… A concept bred in every man’s heart… but I can assure you… not all men shall enjoy that freedom, for they shall give their very lives to see others free…”
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 17, 2009 9:31:13 GMT -6
A Ceilidh to Remember
Rosalind: MacRuari castle was a small keep, cozy in its construction with narrow hallways, but with enough rooms to host plenty of guests, and large enough kitchens to churn out a constant feast of fish, from the fresh cokeles, oysters, pike, and herring to the salted varieties in cream or vinegar; plenty of stewed cabbage and leeks; and fresh-baked pretzels. Ale and wine were ready for consumption as servants walked among the great clans and citizens of Skye alike, refilling mugs as they went, taking away the old to replace with the new. The affair was informal, and even well before the party was official set to begin, already Clans MacKenzie and Sutherland were in the middle of the Great Hall, stomping along to a fast-paced jig on a fiddle, ale sloshing from tankards, faces red with exertion. It looked to be a great party, and even His Holiness, sitting on the dais that would be shared with Robert the Bruce and the Aberdeens, seemed close to leaping up and joining the fun down below. In the warm candlelight, guests were greeted with laughter and hugs, smiles lit with the sort of manic light of those beyond joy at the prospect of peace, and the hope of so many ready to embrace the future. News that the Bruce and the Duke of Skye had reached an accord had spread quickly through the castle, and relief was palpable.
MacRuari castle was a small keep, cozy in its construction with narrow hallways, but with enough rooms to host plenty of guests, and large enough kitchens to churn out a constant feast of fish, from the fresh cokeles, oysters, pike, and herring to the salted varieties in cream or vinegar; plenty of stewed cabbage and leeks; and fresh-baked pretzels. Ale and wine were ready for consumption as servants walked among the great clans and citizens of Skye alike, refilling mugs as they went, taking away the old to replace with the new. The affair was informal, and even well before the party was official set to begin, already Clans MacKenzie and Sutherland were in the middle of the Great Hall, stomping along to a fast-paced jig on a fiddle, ale sloshing from tankards, faces red with exertion. It looked to be a great party, and even His Holiness, sitting on the dais that would be shared with Robert the Bruce and the Aberdeens, seemed close to leaping up and joining the fun down below. In the warm candlelight, guests were greeted with laughter and hugs, smiles lit with the sort of manic light of those beyond joy at the prospect of peace, and the hope of so many ready to embrace the future. News that the Bruce and the Duke of Skye had reached an accord had spread quickly through the castle, and relief was palpable.
Rosalind stood beside her husband, welcoming those of Lamont who came to cheer the accord. She held in her hand a cup of mulled wine. Dressed in brighter colors than her usual subdued mourning, her wimple traded in for a coif of elaborate braids pinned atop her head and dressed with spring's earliest flowers, Rosalind showed little regard for the rumors of disharmony between husband and wife, though the observant would notice how very rarely the pair made eye contact, and though they stood side by side, the distance between their shoulders was wide enough to drive a cart through.
Aegraine: Aegraine arrived in her lacked leather jacket with gray shirt and short skirt; her hair was in a braid down her back and she wore leather dancing sandals from Ireland. She looked about to see if there was anyone here she recognized.
Maahes: He held his wife's hand, and put on his best. Tonight was their first night out since her return, and well...in forever. Nora had the children well tucked back into their beds, and rocked their newly born son. It was hard to leave, but darn it he didn't get cleaned up for nothing! Even his beard would have been trimmed back outlining his lips but leaving the skin around the goatee freshly shaven and scented with a musky oil.
Peregrine: Seeping in the shadows he was well adjusted to the night coming up silently behind the Lady Lamont and placing little freshly blooming flowers behind her braid--without once being caught.
Amicia: Amicia had somehow gotten wind of a 'shindig' and what sounded more appealing than that? She wore a pale shade of blue with silver trim, the curls of blonde held with a matching ribbon...old habits die hard and she had to match or it drove her batty. Anticipating the night ahead, let the night begin!
Marcos: And so the Captain of La Nereida would enter. Wearing his finest of a crimson Captain's Coat with gold lining and embroidery. It would be the matching crimson color of his Ladies lovely dress. He would of course be wearing a white tunic underneath, black pants, and shiny black boots. His hair was tied back by a leather binding and his arm linked with that of his wife to be. The War on the Water was behind them for now, and he was looking forward to this gathering. The Spanaird was never one to trun away from a party of any kind.
Kaori: And what of Kaori? At the side of her captain she matched perfectly, a smile on her lips. It felt good to be out with him in public for a change, rather than shut in to a dusty old library with only written words to keep her entertained, only stodgy old scholars to keep her company. This was far more lively and she made sure to dress for the occasion, a crimson gown with gold brocade around the collar and layered sleeves. Her hair had been pulled up in an immaculate twist, the formidable black sheet held in place with more pins than Kay had been able to keep track of. It looked nice, and that was all she cared about. A smile was offered to everyone she made eye contact with, a rarely seen twinkle in her eyes as she leaned against the man who would be her husband in a week's time.
Ealora: "Maahes sweetheart, you don't have to hold in your belly.."She whispered though he was doing no such thing, she teased in order to ease him. He was standing as rigid as a statue. Her hand squeezed in his own as she leaned her body into his own, her hand sliding back to yep, squeeze his behind as she purred within his ear. "Try to have a good time hmm?" Though she was no longer with child she dressed in one of the Sari's he had gotten her for the yule season, brightly patterned for the celebration and the coming spring. Come on people, lets party!
Aegraine: Aegraine wandered among the other guests, alone as usual, curious about the dancing she overheard them speak of.
Maahes: "I always get big in the winter, but it will be gone soon." He promised with his own grin, coming to kiss her temple warmly, "It is hard to let go with war..and now.." His words silenced when they stepped closer to Rosalind and her husband. Though he would be greeted, it was an instant switch as amber orbs narrowed upon the place on Rosalind's face..that held far too much powder. Fearghus would simply be given his threat--very clear, without speaking.
Rosalind: "Oh, gracious, not a slow song," Rosalind laughed, and broke free from her husband to go convince the musicians to play a reel next. On her way, she spotted the General. 'Gracious' was right. She inclined her head politely and made her way quickly in the other direction. The man was making her life difficult. And Kaori and Marcos were not. "Kaori! I am so glad you were able to come!" she smiled to both of them.
Marcos: Marcos would look to his beloved, he was of course grinning from ear to ear. Since being back after the battle within the sea.. he had spent a great deal of time with his wife to be and their children. True.. Caliban and Carrine were not his by blood, but that meant little in the mind of the Spaniard. He hoped that with the passing of one battle, the rest would quickly come and go so that Skye could enjoy a time of peace. As their arms were linked, his other hand came to overlap the one resting along his arm. "You are muy bonita tonight mi amor... as you are every night, but especially tonight." He said as he flashed her a charming smile.
Ealora: She hummed in a note of laughter rather then letting it out as a smile and a nod of her head was offered to Rosalind. Her hand tightened in Maahes with the scowl on his face. Not here, she silently begged. Lord it felt weird not to have her son within her arms but she was bearing it well. The last party that had been to albeit their own fall festival had been before they were married. Truth was that Skye needed more get togethers of this nature. "ohh, a slow song, will you dance with me my handsome husband?" She cooed with a grin.
Kaori: She gave Marcos a grin and nudge, quietly saying, "Thank you," before hearing Rosalind address her. "Rosalind!" she said, stepping up to her to exchange a kiss to her cheek in greeting. "You do know Marcos, of course." She had recalled Rosalind telling her that not long ago. "We wouldn't have missed it for the world. Things have been so tense lately, I think we're all eager for an evening we can enjoy ourselves for a change." And the smile on her face was a testament, it looked natural and she wasn't as tense as she had been in days past. Everything from the drinks to the food to the music playing was a delight to the scholar.
Aegraine: She stood along the sidelines, just watching but her feet tapped to the song, anxious for a dance even though she could not participate in solo.
Marcos: Marcos would let his dark gaze shift from his lovely Kaori and settle on Rosalind. "Buenos Noches Senora... it is a night I and mi Kaori were looking muy forward to." His English was still not perfect.. broken of course as it mixed with his Spanish. He would stand back and let the two Ladies talk as he looked about. He saw the Lord General and his wife. A nod was given to them both and a flashy sort of smile.
Maahes: She would know her husband well, tugging him towards the floor he would be quick to sweep her onto the floor, and even if they were the only ones he cared very little. "You should go with your sister and see if the market has new." He smiled touching the slightly fraying part of her wrap. "You have worn these out...but still you look beautiful." He would have been very happy to wave at each, but so it seemed this one was basking in the glow.
Peregrine: Up behind the Lady Aegraine the pirate had found a hat that hid his face well, shadowing it from the rest. He should not have come period, but simply could not resist in such as dances..or a wall flower. A warm petite hand would slip into her own as he pulled her out upon the floor, "So I hear you have quiet the reputation now by ways of a fight." He grinned, with that being all that could be seen.
Rosalind: "You both look so lovely! Good evening, Captain." Her own English was still accented with her native Picardie. And she had always been fond of Spanish accents. There was something warm to them, invitingly humble, or at least, that's what she believed! She returned the bises to Kaori and laughed. No one greeted her that way since she left her home! "Yes, well, there is dancing! And food! I am sure it will be a great evening."
Ealora: This time she let out a full blown laugh, oh she could charm the man into doing anything she wished but the same could be said of her. She did not care if they were the only ones upon the dance floor either, as soon as he took her within his arms, the world melted away. "Well you know I like something when it is worn out. As soon as Shaden will see me again, then I will.." She sighed as they moved about the dance floor. "I miss Sam, he always made all my clothing.."That was the last though she would say of it. "You look rather dashing I might add, uncomfortable?" A chesire grin spread across her lips. Any time he looked dashing, more then not he was uncomfortable. That was her husband and she adored it of him. She caught Marcos smile and returned it with a small wave of fingers that were soon sliding over her husbands arm once more.
Aegraine: Fight? I dance and both take fancy footwork, eh? That I can do." LePower went onto the dance floor along the one disguisedby that hat, intending to get at least one dance tonight.:"How do you know of me, sir?" she asked, dancing along.
Marcos: "Ah... muchos gracias Senora... you are muy kind with su words." He replied as he took her hand and kissed the back of it in all its chaste and respectful manner. He then moved back to stand beside his beloved, an arm slipping about her slender waist. "I must remember to have Kaori bring you a bottle of mi famila's wine. I am thinking you would like it... perhaps una of each? El port wine y sherry."
Kaori: Well, Kaori had to admit, the food aspect did have her interested more than a little. As for the greeting, well, Kaori was a veritable melting pot of European traditions and had picked that one up long before arriving in Skye. It was just as commonplace to her as a curtsey, not something she had grown up doing but something she had learned to adjust to. She had managed to hide her accent adequately, picking up other customs was easy after that. "Oh, the wine from Marcos' vineyard back home is not to be compared. I guarantee it." Kaori saw the wave Ealora had sent toward her fiance and she smiled to her and curtsied. She did not know the Lord General well, only having met him once and seen him in passing, but tonight was a frivolous affair and she wasn't going to wait for proper introductions before addressing them if the opportunity arose this evening.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 17, 2009 9:32:04 GMT -6
Peregrine: "A fool's guess. Perhaps.." His scent was strong, of rich earthy soil and salty sea air. Never having been the tallest of men he seemed to fit well into a ladies arms and used that very often to his advantage. "It would matter very little to me what it was you do, M'lady just so long as you have fun doing it no?"
Rosalind: "I actually am quite fond of sherry," she admitted with a warm smile. "My father had a friend from his days in the Crusades, who had a vineyard. And being French, wine was never absent from our table. I would like that very much! So, if you have not met him, that is my husband over there," she inclined her head in Fearghus's direction. Fortunately, he was busy in conversation with his neighbor, a MacGregor clansman and didn't see the nod. "Perhaps he will dance later, he says. But me, I will wait for no invitation for myself, oui? Pardon me." Rosalind laughed once more, and continued on her sojourn through the room, cup of mulled wine in hand as she went to continue her greetings.
Maahes: "Of course I am un-comfort-able," Broken English struggled over the complex word, "I worry I will ruin another shirt and Nora will have my hair removed. She says that it makes me look like a woman, and clothes do not fit over it. Of course I am un-comfort-able," Broken English struggled over the complex word, "I worry I will ruin another shirt and Nora will have my hair removed. She says that it makes me look like a woman, and clothes do not fit over it." Oooooooh how that little wiggle worked her magic, "But I care very little, just..would be home without my shirt." He touched her lips then with his own, knowing she missed Sam. "He is in heaven, but I am sure he misses you too."
Aegraine: "I do adore dancing!" She followed the myterious hat wearing dance partner with ease, caught up in the music.
Marcos: "Then perhaps a case is better then..hm?" He asked with a grin. "Half y half...a gift of course as I have abundancia to spare."
Ealora: The burst of her laughter no doubt filtered across the room. "Nora said that? hmmm" Laughter continued as she shook her head. "I love the woman to death but don't listen to her, don't worry about her anger over another ruined shirt. I will just flip my hair, as I do with you and get my way. All anger gone" She winked with that same cheshire grin. A small hum of a moan left her lips as his touched her own. "Stop that or we won't be here long and that would be rude. Though I'd well like to see you without your shirt."As the song ended, she pulled from his grasp giving one more squeeze of his behind as she purred into his ear. "Go mingle and play nice..I want to say hello to Rosalind without you scowling at her over my shoulder." A pink tongue snaked from her mouth in a tease at him before she was moving off before he had a chance to grasp her up again. "Rosalind.."She spoke to the woman's back as she approached her.
Peregrine: "A women then who holds my heart," He purred against her ear eyes parting to keep eyes upon the crowd around him..with so many enemies it was impossible to kick back. "Be careful with it will you? I fear it about to be broken."
Kaori: "Of course, dearest. We'll be fine." She then gave Marcos a pointed look and started to tug him toward the area the food was laid out. Kaori was not too proud to confess she was hungry, and after missing any number of meals over the past few weeks, she was eager to make sure she was fed before starting to dance. If there was one thing she was still uncertain of, it was the dances of Skye, but at least she was a quick study. Dancing was the closest thing she had to a professions before the whole scholar gig had presented itself, after all.
Maahes: "Tease." Suddenly he was there alone, his hands coming together in a shy manner as she wanted him to mingle? Uh...Oh, look a bar. Quick Maahes run from the people go go!
Aegraine: "Hearts are durable; are they not?"says as they whirl around to the tune permeating the air of the room.
Amicia: Amicia thought it was odd how after just a drink she totally spaced out and hadn't a clue as to what was going on! Lips pursed, she blew a strand of blonde from her brow, forging onward into the event.
Kaori: Seeing the Lord General rushing to the alcohol as quickly as she had the food, she had to laugh. Making her way toward him as she snagged samples of the food, she waited until she was within a few feet before saying, "Lord General? I'm not sure if you remember me. It's good to see you again." That winning smile was now offered to him as she bobbed a curtsey, food in hand and all. The High Scholar was anything but shy, and if Maahes was not a good mingler, she would do her best to assist him!
Peregrine: "That they are, that they are."
Rosalind: "Ah, Ealora." Ealora did not seem the sort to go for the trois bises, so Rosalind inclined her head politely, the smile not fading in the least as she greeted the woman. "It is good to see you, and looking so healthy. How is your family? Well, I hope?" Rosalind took a sip of her mulled wine, hit the dregs, and passed the cup off to a servant. Another was quick to appear, but she waved it off for the moment.
Marcos: Of course the Spanish were normally bullheaded and didn't comply so easily. However, this one was under a spell by the way of a little woman. So as she tugged, his feet carried him after her. He had to chuckle lightly of course as they made their way to the food. After that... well on to speaking with the Lord General it seemed. "Buenos Noches Lord General... it has been quite sometime since we last spoke." He said as he held out his hand for a gentleman's handshake.
Liliana: Dancing, merry-making, and the company of friends. What better for an evening? Liliana stepped inside upon the arm of Kendrew, dressed in a simple long-sleeved gown with gold design about the hem. Ebony hair hung in its usual braid and there was nothing fancy about her attire. Simply the usual, her silver lily necklace and her wedding band for jewelry. Though as soon as the couple came into the crowded room, a smile on both lips, Kendrew leaned closed to whisper something to his wife that made her blush before excusing himself. Shaking her head, laughter spilling forth, she stated,"You owe me a dance later, husband mine." And then went in search of friends.
Maahes: Looking over the brim of his mug at the woman who spoke his name he looked around to make sure she was in fact speaking to him. "You were at Balian's, going to write I followed you the entire way to make sure you got there. How could I forget?" He spoke in a quiet very shy voice, chyt....this was when he had to use all those manners that were beat into him. "Captain," Cleaning the moisture from his palm he would shake the man's hand as well. "How are you both?"
Ealora: "It is good to see you. I apologize I left you that night on your own, husbands in a bad mood must be tended to yes?" She grinned as she snagged a cup of something from a passing tray. "Thank you, very much..the family is quite well. We would be glad to have you for a visit and to meet the newest member of the family." She made a sniff at the cup then just held it within her hand, new mothers shouldn't drink right? She was so unsure and so just held it. "How are you doing? You know, if you should ever have need of...well anything, I would be glad to assist you." What did that mean? Rosalind could take it as she wished, the offer was there and wide open. She was giving Maahes five more minutes before she would come rescue him, then she would be happy to say her husband had mingled, played nice and been a gentleman and that would be it for the year for him. mwahahaha!
Aegraine: There had been so few moments for enjoyment in recent times, Aegraine let go and got into the foot wrk patterns in sync with her mystrious dance partner, long braid swinging back of her."You are really a fabulus dancer, sir!"
Marcos: "Muy bueno.. gracias... " He replied with a smile as the handshake took place. His hand would fall back to his side and he slipped his arm about Kaori's wasit o nce more. He thought a moment how to say it in English. Damnable language barrier. "Eh.. congratulations on su new bebe." He said after a moment.
Amicia: Slipping through the throng of faces, Amicia paused at someone holding at tray, taking a bit of food with a smile of thanks. As she popped it into her mouth, she sincerly hoped it was a tray and not his personal plate...hmm.
Kaori: She seemed genuinely pleased he remembered both her and the occasion in which they had met. "Indeed," she said, nodding. "Doing very well, glad to have an occasion to make merry, at least. You are well? And your new son?" Of course rumors spread like wildfire and the stories of the drama hadn't eluded her ears. She grinned up at her fiance, seeing, as usual, they were once again on the same thought track.
Peregrine: "It is in my blood I must say, but I do not see any trace of Roma in you, child. Where did you learn to let go like this? Hmm?" He teased dipping her back, and letting the music shake away his own doubt.
Rosalind: Rosalind was not prideful in the least. She did know when to ask for help, but until now, there had been no opportunity to do so. "Ah, I would enjoy such a visit. Infants are just too adorable for words." The amused tone of voice had nothing to do with the words she next spoke. "I think your husband is wrong about me, and about the gypsy. Tell him, if you can for me...." What? What would make sense, and would not sound like the pleadings of a woman who knew she was wrong? Rosalind squared her shoulders, smiled, though her hazel eyes were serious. "That I am innocent. Well! I must round up some souls to dance with me! Will you join before the competition?"
Amicia: Admiring dresses was an easy task, mentally trying to name the exact hue of the dye used. Helped when ordering things instead of saying blue-ish-gray-ish sort of shimmery-thing.
Maahes: See..anyone that knew the Beast knew his weakness, and the very questions of his son would be quick to ease his nerves, "He grows more each day--too fast." Crossing his arms over his chest lightly he would only grin, "I hear that you are going to be married? So many sons to come from that yes?"
Ealora: "Our little Ra can do just that. Just don't try to steal him away, hmm"She winked at the tease and grinned. The cup was lifted, more in a trick then anything else. "I know.."She murmured into the cup before it lowered from her mouth. "I do know...that it is wrong. I have all ready told him such." She nodded her head as if that affirmed it all. That was the truth, no soul was going to change her heart or what it said was true. She trusted Rosalind, trusted what the woman said was true. "Competition? Dancing? Hmmm"She mulled over it before letting out a laugh with a shrug of her shoulders. "Sure, why not" Ealora was not one to back down, ever.
Marcos: Marcos nodded, then looked to Kaori and flashed her a grin that was followed by a wink. He turned back to Maahes and nodded. "Si senor General... one hopes." He added as he had to chuckle. Yup, that would get him an elbow in his side.
Kaori: The question, though unorthodox, made Kaori laugh and oddly enough, no blush touched her cheeks! A hand moved to her belly and she said, "We can only hope. You and your wife will be in attendance I hope?" And never missing a beat Kaori's hand reache dout andc swatted Marcos in the arm none too gently as she continued to look up at the General, the grin on her lips never once faltering.
Aegraine: Dipped and back to the spell music cast, the dance continues as Ae replies,"My Father gave me to his woman, the Carnival Dancer, for instruction in dance and knife throwing. " It was all too true.
Marcos: Close enough! It was still considered a love lick no doubt. He looked to Kaori then. "Que?! I said nada..." He jested as he tried to pull off the innocent look with her. He looked back to Maahes. "Su famila.. all are bein..er.. doing wel?" He asked as he was nice enough to include the man's wife and extended family, not just the new son.
Shaden: The doors of great hall of McRuari Castle were opened, by servants as the couple were ushered forth.. Shaden resplendant in a elegantly crafted confection of a peacoke blue, heavinly embrodiered with jewels and threads of gold and silver about the hem and neckline, copper curls were swept up and pinned by the multi facected jewels that decorated her gown.. beside her.. the ever present Nicholas... but missing.. the usual resplendant jewels that encircled her neck, instead a small gold chain, upon it a cloisonne` locket.. scattered with daiamond... something extreamly rare and valuable. Of course.. and invatation had been issued to the Mistress of the Lily, and her... Lilyanthian court of Ladies... but there were other reasons afoot.. that she sought out this particular gathering.. there were rumors that the Bruce.. was on the Island... though Nicholas knew nothing of this reason.
Marcos: Marcos would kept his postion next to the table with the drinks. Even though none were from his own vineyard, Rosalind and her people had done a fine job in chosing some very nice drinks for this occasion. A glass of wine was taken and he sipped on it lightly as he would ready himself for what he was sure to be quite an entertaining event.
Nic: He had been remiss to attend a party with to much chatter and music, his head was still pounding though his stomach had long settled. Still he lead Shaden into the room upon his arm, clothed in his finest, a black fitted suit with gold trimming and he was uncomfortable as all hell! Silvery blue eyes swept left and then right as he unlinked his arm with hers and gestured his hand to the small of her back as he lead her away from the doors and further into the room. She wanted to do this!
Maahes: A hand came to clasp Marco's shoulder, and touch Kaori's gently, "We'll be there. Best wishes to you both."
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 17, 2009 9:32:50 GMT -6
Ealora: After agreeing to Dance, she left Rosalind momentarily to join Maahes with Kaori and Marcos. She smiled at the pair as she leaned against her husband letting her hand slid against the small of his back as she intentionally lay her head near his shoulder letting russet curls brush over his skin before her head lifted again. "Lady Kaori and Captain Marcos, yes? A pleasure to meet you both."
Marcos: Turning his gaze back upon the Lord General, he nodded and smiled in thanks. Glad to hear that two of Skye's finest people (among many) would be present the day he and Kaori would become husband and wife. As his wife came to join them, he'd of course greet her as he did any other Lady. Nodding he flashed her a smile. :Si Senora... it is bueno to see you. Glad to hear you are well." He replied to Ealora.
Maahes: "They are going to be married soon, and have many sons."
Aegraine: Little black and gray dressed little sparrow; long linen sleeves half down to her short gray wool skirt; the Captain shakes her arms and then proceeded to where the ance competition was slated to begin."Wish me luck, stranger,"she said to the man in the hat.(d)
Shaden: She whispered beneath her breath as her glacial green hues settled on the form of her sister and brother in law... " I see she is not at home with her children..." it was an uncharitable whisper... as her gaze raked over the General and his Wife.. Ealora had gained everything.. Ra, Issa, Eppi... while Shaden was left childless.. it was a bittter envy that gnawed at her soul, as she shifted her gaze to the competition about to begin.. of course Ealora would be entering that too.. well that was one thing she would not win... not tonight she was done coming in second fiddle to Ealora... " I will Challenge my sister Dear Ealora.. to a dance duel."
Peregrine: "Good luck, pretty bird." A kiss to her cheek would see her off.
Rosalind: Rosalind parted from Ealora and went back up toward the dais where her husband was waiting. He merely nodded politely as she told him what was about to happen, handed her a cup of wine, and shooed her off to watch the competition. Rosalind stood among other Lamonts, taking bets on the winner.
Kaori: Kaori smiled at Ealora, curtsying to her. "And you must be Captain Ealora," said Kaori. "It's nice to finally make your acquaintance." As it was, Kaori had only seen her in passing, never having the pleasure of a conversation. "And congratulations. I hope the baby is letting you get some sleep at night," she said, shaking her head. She remembered those nights all too well! (d)
Marcos: "Enhorabuena en tu boda." She returned to the Captain with a smile as she continued to tease Maahes back with her fingertips. "gracias Captain..I am very well, thank you" What Ealora could know a little Spanish. She had been trying to learn new languages for a while. Arabic for one was the most difficult by far. A smile went to Kaori at her greeting. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you and yes, he allows us sleep its during the day he is most...spoiled.."There that was the right word for it.
Aegraine: Who will accept a challenge from Ulster?" grins as she inquires.
Nic: His hand tightened against her back as he let out a sigh. He could not begrudge Shaden her envy of her sister but the two were so close it was ridiculious to think this could go on much longer. "Shaden darling, we will have our own in time" He whispered down to her ear while kissing at her cheek. "You would feel awful if something had happened to those kids and Issa is still, very much apart of you an I, no matter what.."
Marcos: He looked a little surprised with Ealora's resply but smiled brightly. "Gracias muy mucha Senora Ealora... Veo usted habla un espanol pequeno. Muy bien." (Thank you very much Lady, I see you speak a little spanish. Good for you.) He said before stepping back and waiting, and going silent as the compitention was about to begin.
Aegraine: Folds her arms and looks over to the gypsy begin his dance
Rosalind: Rosalind listened as the official judge, a MacGregor fellow with lovely gray hair and huge ears, stood up and began ordering the dancers. "Peregrine, to be followed by Aegraine, Shaden, and Ealora. Peregrine, by the agreement of your fellow dancers, you may choose first. Will you dance solo, or will you offer a challenge?" While the judge waited for an answer, one of the MacLeod men found a sword and laid it on the floor. The crowd ooohed appreciatively.
Peregrine: With special thanks to the judge for outing him, the Pirate threw away the hat, letting the curls of blonde fall freely as they wished. The Gypsy spirit had given his heart a turn for the night letting his captains coat fall away; revealing the bare body beneath covered only by the black trousers, his chest would seem hairless as he was in fact a natural blonde of course. Ashes to Ashes; Dust to Dust Peregrine gambled with his life and made deals with people he didn't trust. So of course the musicians had been tipped to start the beat of the dance slow at first. The sword would be taken up, wrapped in the silk scarf just as the lands of burning sands had always done. A wink to the judge would start his snake like motion. What was a free spirit if bells were not worn over bare feet, and hips did not sway like any woman would. No doubt this was what charmed him into many beds.
Aegraine: Takes a tumbling run at the crossed swords and with a front flip ends on one foot between sword crosses. Arms barely move, Irish stylebut her feet fly amid the blades, sikwirt swings and she keeps up with the music beat. Braid swings and her face glows with happiness ansshe begins arm movements, one arm up and curls over head, turns in time and faster her steps until she does a side cartwheel to one side, ends her dance with a bow then pose typical of Scot dance.
Judge: The judge spaced the swords out, and looked between Ealora and Shaden. "Is a challenged accepted, ladies?"
Ealora: Ealora's head turned as Shaden announced she was challanging her. A slender brow raised in wonder but she nodded with an "I accept" Called out before moving to meet her sister by the swords upon the floor.
Nic: Nic moved with Shaden but only to take a scarf from his pocket, Shaden's left hand was raised and Ealora's right and both wrists tied together before he moved off.
Ealora: Ealora's gave a nod of her head to the judges as she handed one of her Sai's over to her sister and kept the other within her hand, she wanted a challenge right? "Tell us when to begin..."
Shaden: The bow at her skirt was haistly undone as she walked to meet her sister in the middle of the dance floor, the overskirt falling away to reveal a much slenderer sheath below, slits up each side almost to her hips would allow for ease of movement as wrist were tied together and sais brandishe by each she cat, their eyes locked in dead seriousness, no smile prevaded as the music swelled in a fascinatingly hyponotic rythm, that brought about the daydreams of all who watched of sultry nights, sweating bodies and soft moans of pleasure.. each leaned back as far as the leash upon their wrist would allow, poised to begin.
Judge: The gray-haired judge looked to the band. The music had already started to swell, and the challengers took their places. He drew his hand up, and on the down stroke, the time began for the challenge.
Ealora: Her fingers touched Shaden's arm, grasping as each took their pose on a lean backward. How this was going to be a dance off was anyones guess as the two sisters knew each other to well to knock the other into the swords. As the music swelled and the judges hand signalled, Ealora shot up like a bolt from an arrow, pulling her sister upwards as the Sai's sang as they connected, bodies were pressed together for only a moments notice before Ealora's hips were rolling and she twirled from her sister, the sais's zinging as they left each other, the Egpytian woman spun upon her toes till the scraf connected their wrists would allow no further parting of their bodies, her fingers tightened on her sisters arm as she yanked her, fairly trying to make her knock the joined swords over but pulled her free of it in the last moment.
Shaden: Pulled upward, her feet nimble and quick danced about the swords, the sais sparking as the lenghts slide against each other with force, as they twirled each ducked under in a rolling motion twisting like little children do in play but nothing so innocent came from this dance... the sais tangled as Ealora feet moved just as quickly, side stepping and pulling her forward, the clang of steel and accompaniment to the music, telling tales of battle and heartache of long ago and not so long ago... pulled together then separated... by fate, yet tied by a thin line of love.. that bloomed from women of separate births but one soul,. Shaden shoved harshly a cant of hips against hips, in effort to unseat Ealora's balance and pull her into the swords, for the vicotry, but when all was said and done and the music faded the sisters were face to face, a tangle of skirts, and sweet sweat.. sais at each other's throats and none.. had stepped on the sword... " Finito.... it is done " she whispered... her breath labored....
Maahes: Moving through the people he was quick to get to his wife, wrapping arms around her and kissing her neck, "Why do you not do that at home? Hmm?
Ealora: The Sai slowly slid away from her sisters throat, inching away as it passed. A slow grin spread across her lips as she let out a laugh between a labored breath at the twist and turns both of them had pulled off in the challange of the dance. Hell, her sister had once made her so jealous as to dance with a gay man! Her wrist freed from her sisters, she hugged her close before she was wrapped up within her husband with a laugh. "You've only to ask, I'll give you a private showing...any...time...you...like"The last words punctured just so as she rolled within his arms to plant a kiss against his lips.
Aegraine: Time to find a little glass of something to drink. Is there wine?" She inquired of a passing serving person.
Shaden: "Because she doesn't have me to dance with at home " she laughed, goodnaturedly at Maahes as he wrapped her sister into his embrace... " And you don't wear this " she flashed him a length of long tawny leg.. before she smiled turning to grin at her sercret husband, no one save them and the Father that had wed them knew of the marriage... for now... " If you didn't stay out last night drinking you may have gotten your own private dance, Nic," she chided him for his boys' night out.
Kaori: Kaori looked up at Marcos, her brow lifted. Wow. "Do you want me to go get some pointers before we leave?" she asked jokingly. Thinking on it, it had been quite some time since she had danced for Marcos! Many months, in fact. It was a shame as that was one of the things that brought them together....
Nic: The man had fairly been rooted to the spot, first by Shaden's display of clothing then the dance. "Yeah what he said!" He quipped as he came up behind his own wife and wrapped his arms about her, drawing her back against him as he jerked the scarf away from a lad who looked way to pleased with himself.*
MacLeod Man: The MacLeod man quicky took his swords back. After a dance like that? Who knew what those crazy women would do with his weapons?
Marcos: Well, Marcos could say that each individual had been very entertaining. At Kaori's question he gave her a look that said she should know better. He then turned it around and jested back. "Or maybe it is me that needs the pointers, Hm? El Samba and El Tango... no bueno no more..." He jested.
Nic: "Hey, I don't fault you women your night out...have you ever known me to do that before?"He quipped with a raise of dark brows though a grin had slide over his lips as he tightened his hold of her and kissed at her cheek. "All better now?"He rumbled low into her ear as he cuddled onto her sweaty body. "Should get dressed again now damn it..men are staring, don't want the General to arrest me for a clan brawl.."
Peregrine: Young spirits it seemed had been left to watch with wide eyes as they danced, children of the servants no doubt having no where else to go. Peregrine would turn away from the group finding those little eyes and holding up the hilt his blade as well his index finger. Now you see it? Tipping his head back he started the tip past his lips, the blade seeming to disappear down his neck, but in fact it was only going down his shoulder. Illusion but in their eyes his man was a nut eating a sword.
Rosalind: Rosalind laughed and applauded each of the dancers as they left, her amusement not much dimmed as Fearghus stepped up behind her, lightly touched her shoulder to let her know he was there, and joined in the applause, too. He well know letting her know he was there was far scarier than if he'd kept his hands to himself. Rosalind took a larger swallow of her wine than she meant to. The judges were busy conferring, while Rosalind was trying not to react to the site of Perry. He looked worse today than he had the last time she'd seen him, and all she wished to do was have a few words with him. At the very least. She blinked and turned away, then got caught up in finalizing her bets.
Kaori: Laughing, Kaori shook her head. "No, both are very bueno," she said. "Though I need to get the sensu back out," she murmured, looking through the crowd again. It was a lovely night and she was glad to be a part of it on some level. There was a time when she would have shunned an evening of merriment, but ever since Marcos had become a part of her life, things had changed for the better.
Shaden: She turned batting dark lashes at him with a smile of what was it.. happiness.. something he had rarely seen in the depths as of late... it seemed a little work out with steel was all Ealora and Shaden needed to get back on even keel with one another... slipping from his arms she moved to where the overskirt of her gown lay, and shimmied it up and over her hips turning to let him tie the bow that held it in place... no doubt he would later ask.. why a woman would order such a gown made.. that came apart with the flick of a bow.. but then again..she was a courtesan... and a spy.
Rosalind: "Oh, you are finished? Tres bien!" Rosalind took the piece of paper with the judges' results and conned one of the musicians into forfeiting his chair. With Fearghus's help, she climbed up and cleared her throat. With a screech from one of the fiddles, the room of chattering guests was brought to an abrupt silence as all wondered who was murdering the cat. Rosalind merely smiled beatifically. "I have the winner!" *
Kaori: Kaori found herself perking up, looking toward Rosalind expectantly.
Marcos: He chuckled lightly and leaned over to place a playful kiss oon her neck. To heck with propriety. An arm tightening about her waist. He nuzzled playfully and then straightened up before turning his eyes back to the growing crowd as the other hand held the glass of wine still.
Rosalind: "Honorable mention goes to the gypsy. Were it not for his failed final feat! In third place, the Lady Aegraine. Her dance was one of athleticism and skill, and does our war dance justice! Congratulations, Aegraine. And so our victor is either the Lady Shaden or the Lady Ealora. Who will it be? Both women put on a sensuous but skillful performance, and I do believe many men here were blaming the ale for their rosy cheeks. My lady Shaden, I believe business will have a temporary boom for you after such an advertisement." With a wink, she took a sip from her glass of wine. "And the winner is...Ealora!"
Kaori: Propriety be damned. They were about to be married, what did anyone expect? (d)
Liliana: A pause was taken in movements as Liliana observed the dancing. It had lips rounding in an 'O' and eyes widening at parts, hands clapping, and by the end she was laughing softly. Quite entertaining indeed. Moving back through the crowd once it was over, chocolate eyes searched for one specific face, Rosalind. Upon spotting her, she called out,"There you are my friend!" (d)
Aegraine: LePower sipped from a small goblet of white wine, ordinary person observing the celebration tonight, even dancing a little to boot; enough to make her smile, no matter what. (d)
Ealora: She turned his his arms again, pressing her back into him as she clapped for the contestants, honorable mention for Perry, third place for Aegraine. A passing tray would find a cup missing, thank god this one was water and she gulped it down happily. She was to out of shape.
Peregrine: Crystal hues of the brightest blue went to Rosalind as she started her little announcement and he could not still his heart. There she was in all her finery fitting in like a well worn glove of the finest silk. Where was that knight in shinning armor from the night before? Had he not come to save her yet? Darkened eyes then passed to the brute behind her as his answer was made clear.
Ealora: Choke, cough cough. She laughed within her cup then held it high in a salute of thanks. "wow, I um...thank you" she pressed back into her husband as a way of, see there was a reason you married me, kind of tease.
Aegraine: Applauds for the other winners."Good show, one and all!"
Kaori: "Oh!" Kaori wasn't sure which of the two would win that particular dance off. It had been hard to tell from an observer's standpoint. She applauded and laughed, however. She was sure it had been a very close call!
Shaden: "To Ealora " she raised her cup in all geniuine respect,for indeed they were both winners now... as they had set themselves right with one another's hearts once again... a grin to Nicholas... as he finished tying up the bow of her skirt... " And you thought I would be mad forever " she winked... and grinned soflty in that way he knew.. things would be ok...
Rosalind: "My Lady Ealora, on permission from Her Grace, you will have a very special prize indeed. In Skye's next tourney, you will be seeded beyond the first bracket, should you wish to partake. If not, you will have monetary compensation. For now, I hope that you enjoy your victory, and think about your prize before making any commitment! Cheers!"
Nic: "Can I get a repeat of that little dance later on?"He teased to her ear as he finished tying the bow and applauded those that had danced. Not him, not like that anyways. He used swords, not danced around them. A grin slid across his lips as he let out a laugh with her wink and pulled her close again.
Maahes: Ealora won everything in his book, but now all these eyes were upon his wife..Heads were gonna roll if any drunk men got any ideas.
Kaori: "Huzzah, huzzah," Kaori quietly chanted for Ealora. She was glad to ahve seen the performance if nothing else.
Marcos: Marcos would set aside his wine and remove his arm from Kaori just long enough for an applaude to all the great many dancers. He retained his glass of wine, arm slipping back around Kaori and he lifted his glass to the Victor, Senora Ealora.
Rosalind: Rosalind looked for Fearghus. She had gotten up onto the chair only with his help, and now he had vanished! If only that was the least of his crimes! Rolling her eyes, she tried catching the attention of one of the MacKinnon boys to help her down. Meanwhile, she had a full cup of wine to keep her entertained.
Ealora: She let out a laugh and nodded her head. "My thanks to you Lady Rosalind and I will think on it, please let me know when I need to make a decision!" A grin spread across her lips as those saluted her with glasses. She was not used to all eyes on her, quick someone change the subject or make a scene! "Just remember, I give lessons!" She was teasing of course.! Lord help any man who wanted a lesson, he would leave with no head or no arms courtesy of Maahes.
Shaden: " If you decided to come home tonight " she quipped as she stepped away from him... " Excuse me for a moment please... I need to go powder my nose " upon tiptoe she kissed his cheek and then sauntered off, like some vision in peacoke blue, skirts swishing this way and that... as she weaved thru the clansmen, some of which murmered words of coming to see her later in the week, or asking her of her plans for the rest of the evening... once out of the main dance hall she dropped the smile and pretense heading with percicision to the tower steps... upward and onward she would.. find out if the Bruce were here or not.
Aegraine: Walks away to check her horse, and begin the journey back home."It was grand!"
Rosalind: "Fear not, Lady Inveryne," a familiar voice whispered. He was tall, and behind his beard, nigh unrecognizable to most in the room. But she knew him. She knew him well. The firelight turned his hair a burnished gold, and lifting her down from the chair was an easy task for the Lanark castellan. He inclined his head politely, stepped back into the dancing masses, and vanished. Rosalind, a tad unbalanced by his sudden appearance and equally sudden vanishing act, decided she needed to take a seat, rather than stand on one. She left the dancers for the dais, where she looked at the Pope with brief suspicion, the Aberdeens with a smile, and her new cup of wine with relief.
Kaori: Kaori tugged Marcos' arm a bit, wanting to see if she could tap anymore shoulders while she was there. Her latest targets were Liliana and Kendrew, and she was doing her best to make her way toward them. The children had been excelling at their lessons, and she was so grateful to the both of them for allowing her to be their tutor.
Liliana: Over the noise and the crowd, it was easy to miss Liliana, and so she did the next best thing,"ROSALIND!" Her voice was raised enough to be heard as she finally managed to push through the crowd. A grin of apology was given to a man who gave her a dark look while rubbing his ear. Oops.
Peregrine: Such a fooled heart, beating so fast..His hand was cold, cooler then most but what he wouldn't give to offer it to her then, and as he fought through the crowd, he found himself stilled. There he was, her knight--just in time. Ah how he should not have chanced fate so many times as it seemed the lady's karma had come back to haunt him. With his coat over his shoulder he simply smiled as feet stilled right before the chair the lady Rosalind sat. "Someone is calling your name, Your Highness."
Marcos: Again with the tugging and so the Spaniard followed his Ladies lead. Off to mingle with more people and enjoy such company. It was all really fantastico. As they passed others to approach friends, he nodded and smiled, flashing that pearly white, beaming and charming smile.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 17, 2009 9:36:18 GMT -6
Rosalind: "Liliana! Will you not take a seat for a moment? Dancing is so tiring!" She indicated the open seat next to her. Just for a moment! The night was young, and even Rosalind had plans to go back out on the floor again. And then, suddenly, her view of the floor was blocked. "Pere," she whispered.. "Do you mean to have me killed?" If those words could ever come out tenderly, they did now. The corners of her eyes crinkled in deep concern, though she knew better than to alert her husband by looking around for him. Kaori: Darn it! Kaori was trying to get to Liliana, and Liliana was trying to get to Rosalind. Ah well, perhaps later. Kaori was actually starting to feel a little warm and changed their course toward the tables where the drinks were being served up. She felt a little light-headed, but forced herself to remain steady so as not to worry her beloved. Maahes: For a man who did not drink often this one was flushed with the warmth of the wine and it was very present across his face. Amber orbs were heavy, and his words were quiet but lord what he wouldn't give for everyone in this room to leave..and his wife do that dance one more time. Sitting back he took a seat on the table; no chair--just table. Liliana: Turning around, trying to get to Rosalind, what would happen? Liliana smacked right into Kaori! "Oh dear!" One hand reached out to grasp Kaori's arm as an abashed grin curved her lips, "Are you alright? I must seem terribly clumsy!" A smile was on her face for the woman and her companion, who she recognized as her soon-to-be husband. Shaden: Up the stairs she moved taking a peek in most of the rooms , then moving on, surely the Bruce would have an enterouge... with him.. and it was then.. she saw one of the Maids... bearing a tray of food headed up to the highest most room... gottcha... she grinned like a cat stalking a mouse... keeping just out of sigh she followed un noticed... and waited in the shadows until the maid entered then left the room... no gaurds... that was odd.. or perhaps they were inside... well... only one way to find out a deep breath.. and her hand found the door knob... pushing it open... dun dun dun !
Robert the Bruce: Robert lay in the bed, the “unclean ailment” eating his insides… he had been nauseous since his secret arrival in Turas Lan. In the past few months he had seen the strength of the Griffin Court, the tenacity of the Gryphon Army, and now in plain view from his window, the powerful Griffin Fleet had not only beaten, but demoralized, the fleet of the world’s most powerful navy. Downstairs was a celebration of the victory, and to his own disgust, he could not attend. He had seen England rape and pillage his land as long as he had been alive, then emerge victorious in war with that country, only to fall to chaos in the clan wars. Now he was King to a divided country… once again at England’s mercy. Now at the waning days of his life, he yearned to see his country whole… even if he could not be part of it, at least know it will be whole again. Hence was his reasoning with Rome and the Pope for the backing of the Aberdeen Court. He knew, with all his heart, that this young man, filled with fire and iron, would guide the Scot people toward freedom and a new Gaelic Renaissance. Those thoughts were all he had now… for his sister, Mary, was now causing problems in the east… the English moving freely across his southern borders… and he was dying, with no heir apparent to rightly take the throne… what was left? Unexpectedly the door to his room opened with a creak… his attention drawn to it. His neck painfully twisted, but a smile made its way to his face. His hand motioned her to him. “Tae speak with yae Ah must lass…E2 He pulled the blanket under his chin, he did not wish her to see his ailment nor smell his rotting flesh… his hand emerges from the cover and he indicates her to sit by the bed… “Here lass, bae mae please…” Kaori: "Oof!" Had Kay not been holding on to Marcos, she surely would have hit the ground. The blow wasn't that forceful, but Kaori still felt a bit dizzy all the same. Shaking her head out, she laughed and said, "Not at all! I think we were neither of us paying attention. You look very well," she added, grinning at her. Marcos: It seemed as his beloved would change her course, so did another, making the two women meet head on and him not far behind. He chuckled and as he steadied his beloved finace`, he flashed Liliana a charming smile. "Buenos Dias Senora a pleasure to meet you." He said. "Eh.. estay bein?" (are you alright?) he asked both Ladies. Ealora: He could drink, lucky ass. As he leaned against the table, she leaned upon him. Oh if she could read minds she would pull him into a closet, instead she watched the mingling of the masses. Ever once in a while, she pressed her head back against his shoulder and then slid it off oh so slowly, teasing him with her hair but then again, she could be unaware of what she was doing right? Peregrine: "Nope, just enjoying the party.." Turning he looked over the room once finding her husband in the thick of conversation. "As you are." Shaden: He moved about the room, watching people talk and dance but the minutes passed and Shaden did not return. His lips pulled into a tight frown as he moved through the throng of people the way she went. Going after her? Damn straight. Liliana: Unfortunately, Liliana had to raise a brow at Marcos question as she truly didn't understand the language. Instead she laughed softly and shook her head, black braid swaying,"A pleasure to meet you as well. Oh, I am wonderful. Though I wish my husband would grace the room as your betrothed has. How are you?" The question was proven to be for both as chocolate eyes moved between each. Kaori: "Oh, we're both doing very well. Looking forward to the wedding next week. I'll be glad when it's all over with," she said. In truth, the wedding planning had taken a backseat to her work, and now she found herself horribly low on time and horribly stressed to boot. Why did these things have to be so bloody difficult? The music and the food and the ceremony and the dress and the rings... Gads, she was glad she was so confident Marcos was it. No matter what she was NEVER doing this again! Rosalind: While Rosalind relaxed, she collected her winnings from the bets and listened to Peregrine, though she really wished he would go away. "I am enjoying it, as much as I am able. Excuse me, Pere. I can't -- " she left it at that, rising from her seat to go seek out Liliana's husband. Marcos: "Eh.. mi apologies Senora... I forget.. my Enlish it is not as bueno as I would like and often... I speak mi language forgetting others do not." He took her hand and placed a chaste kiss to the back of it. "Aw... well, perhaps he will join us soon. Hm?" He said with a hopeful smile. "Y si... muy bueno..." he said in agreement with Kaori. Shaden: It was sometime later that Shaden found her way back down the stairs, what happened in that room would remain a mystery until much much later.... it was on the way down the stairs almost at the bottom she would meet Nicholas..coming to find her " Ohhhh there you are.... I get so easily turned about in these places " lie.... " I've been trying to find my way back for a while now.. and here you are.. coming to my rescue " little white lies didn't hurt right? She flashed him a charming smile... reaching up to pull her fingers thru his dark hair... in a familiar loving way, that she knew made him melt ... ohhhh what an arsenal she had at her disposal. Rosalind: She had seen him ride to the MacRuari castle and knew he was here, though he was unusually quiet tonight. Her heart panged at having to leave Peregrine. She gave him a backward glance, shook her head sadly, and went out onto the dance floor. While her son was being held by Fearghus, she was bound to do as he willed. There was no choice in the matter. She could fight, and she had been fighting, but the consequences of doing so now were not ones she wished to gamble on. Liliana: Curtsying after Marcos kissed her hand, she murmured quietly, "Ah, do not apologize. Perhaps I will see if Kaori will teach me this language you speak." Turning to her friend, she raised a brow, "Do you need help with the wedding? I do not have much to do of late and as you are a friend I would be honored to help you out." Indeed, she would. "I do hope he will, sir. He owes me a dance." Nicholas: Arms folded behind his back as his shoulders rolled backward. "Turned around? With...all that noise in there?" His head jerked back to were the party was still going on, muffled voices and the sound of the band playing an upbeat music coming from the hall. Silvery eyes flashed in a 'Don't lie to me..' kind of way before her hands were moving through his hair. Reaching up with one hand, he captured her own and kissed her knuckles. "Your Knight in shining armor right?" His fingers curled with her own as he lightly pulled her along down the rest of the stairs and back to the party. "Come..."The beat had changed to another slow song and he lead her to the floor to dance. Marcos: "Ah.. gracias Senora.. and wonderful... though, learn it to speak with others of my kind.. no just for mi..." He teased. He stood back a moment, letting the lovely Ladies speak among themselves as he allowed his dark brown eyes to move over the room. Kaori: Kay offered a hesitant smile and said, "Well, I could certainly use the help. It’s the menu I'm having a hard time with. I keep forgetting that people actually need to be fed after the ceremony... Proposals should come with instruction manuals." She looked up at Marcos teasingly, but he was worse off than she. He had never done this before while she at least had an experience with a late husband to fall back on. ... Not that she wanted to fall back on that unfortunate affair, but she should have known what to expect! Rosalind: She arrived on the dance floor, only to realize that the room had started a slow spin. And it had nothing to do with how many cups of mulled wine consumed that evening. She looked for a friendly face, but somehow, she had moved into a group of complete strangers. Even her husband was oddly absent. Deciding it was best if she went back to her room before she embarrassed herself, Rosalind began to cross the room. Her absence would not be missed particularly, not with such a busy party! On her way toward the door, she suddenly lost all sense of balance and leaned against a nearby wall to steady herself, only to have that wall suddenly give a great shake and send her crashing to the ground, her cup of wine spilling across the floor. Unfortunately, she was not the only one to fall, for at that precise moment, the entire castle gave a great heave and shudder, followed by a resounding BOOM!
The basso profundo resonance rang throughout the castle with such a pure force of sound that it was quite reasonable to believe the world had come to an end. The keep gave a wounded groan, a long and unearthly wail of stone sliding against stone, and then yeilded to the shocked aftermath of the explosion. Only silence reigned among those gathered, as even the musicians came to a halt, the dancing stopped, and everyone waited with inhaled breath for some justification. Outside the windows, it was possible to see a great, roaring fire erupt from the stone walls. Impossible! Stone did not burn! Yet the night sky had turned a somber red reflection of the conflagration at MacRuari Keep.
Before ears had yet to stop ringing, a servant dashed into the room, his face white with horror. "The English!" he shouted. "The English are attacking! The English!" Perhaps those gathered had been too focused on the boy's words to notice their hearing had returned. For everyone heard the screams of terror that erupted when all the torches in the Great Hall suddenly flickered and died, with only the faint red-orange glow of the fire through the windows distinguishing shadow from black nothing.
"Raise the torches! Raise the torches!" the voices cried. "Light! We need light!" Candles from the dais were quickly lit, and touched to the torches to bring light back to the hall. When vision was restored, the hall was drastically changed. Anyone of worth to the clans, the Duke and Duchess of Skye, had vanished. Maahes: The boom had startled him from the warm visions of his wife's naked body, but no amount of wine could ever keep this man from a fight. Pressing her back, he would be quick to act. "Get the women to safety, get your arms. Men, let's move out. Ealora, get to the castle..our children are there." He touched her hand before moving out into the night. Where were the nobles? He would have little time to worry as into the hall of arms they all would go grabbing only a sword to build a protective barrier around what would be...the nobles. One knight who was in rush was quickly grabbed, "Find the weapons master, bring him to me." Maahes grew very tired of their damned sneak attacks, and frankly was more then ready to walk up on the shores himself and kill every last one. What was this feeling inside his chest? His heart? Did it beat so wildly now panicked? "Rosalind?" Quickly he searched the different faces. Kaori: The explosion had been enough to send Kaori to her bum, she had been dizzy to begin with. Trying to catch her breath, she looked around, deep breaths trying to steady shaking hands. A weapon! She needed a weapon! A small sword, a light sword, a cane... Anything she could wield. No, she had promised never to walk onto a battlefield, but just as it had last time, battles kept walking into her. She could fight and she would so help her. The only problem was the fiancé that was surely not going to let her take up arms. Her eyes moved to find his as she tried to regain her feet. Maahes: "Raise the alarms," After a few moments the bells would sound and into the fires the army would move. Liliana: "Oh, I'd love to-" The words were cut off as a great quake shook the hall. Screams came from those there and then a moment of baited breath, even confusion, before suddenly the shout of English attacking. Eyes widened, fear in their depths, as she looked at Kaori, "We brought the children...they're in a room upstairs..." Fear made her heart pound inside her chest. Where was Kendrew? Chocolate eyes searched for sight of him with panic and dread swirling inside. Ealora: She was successfully lulling her husband in a promise of what was to come tonight when the boom resounded against the walls, shaking the very foundation itself. Jerking up from him she grabbed onto his arm as the torches went out within the room. Children...and some adults screamed and she clung till the lights were slowly lit about the room revealing nobles missing. She gave a singular nod of her head in understanding before she was moving off from him to do her own duty while she could do her own. "Hush! We're not going to die.."she hissed at the woman who screamed in panic. "Keep your head about you woman and help me get these people out of here!" Celadon eyes turned from the woman to try and find Shaden. "Shaden!" She called into the crowd which was moving in different directions, those to fight and those to scared or unable to fight trying to get out of the way. Rosalind: "Pitch fires!" a woman screamed from the window. "It's a pitch fire! Holy Jesus, we're trapped! We're going to dieeeee!" Marcos: Marcos' smile quickly faded and his arm stretched out to have one hand grab at Kaori's hand. The other of course came to push Liliana back behind him and beside Kaori before he drew his Rapier. His hand that had found Kaori's had him puzzled as she seemed lower and pulling at him.. The boom was enough to shake any man in his boots and set off all kind of alarms. Voices, shouts, screams.. they all mingled and when darkness became light once more he looked to his beloved and her friend. Pulling Kaori to her feet, "Por favor, get to safety.. " He said to them before kissing the lips of his Kaori and moving off to join the rest of the men. He was no Knight but he was well prepared as any and could cut a man down to size just as easily. Kaori: "The children..? We need to get to them," she said, looking around frantically. In the chaos, an elder had lost a walking stick and Kaori seized hit, testing its weight a little bit, checking her grip on it and smiling as she saw the silver handle. This would work very nicely indeed. "We need to find out if there's a way to get to them from here," she said, looking to Liliana as if to ask how she had arrived in this room after seeing to the children. Nicholas: Though he was skeptical of where she had been, he saw only her as they danced...until the boom and he drew her close with a wide look around before his eyes turned to the General who was then lost with the blackout. His arms loosened about her with an intake of breath as someone screamed the English were attacking. Slowly the lights came back on, people began to scramble this way and that. "Shaden, find your sister. Help get these people to safety. General!" He called and signaled to the door that he was going that way as well.
Rosalind: "My husband! Where is my husband?!" The Lady MacGregor was doing everything she was told to do, but amidst the chaos, she was certain the Laird MacGregor was not here. "Angus?!" Shaden: Dancing in his arms was the best medicine her weary heart could have hoped for, when the explosion rippled thru the castle she clung to him, in the darkness.. feeling the brushes of hands in the shadows, that indiscriminately picked out their victims... the clan and nobility... they were left from the culling... as the lights came back on... her eyes narrowed as she watched the moment unfurl with a careful eye taking note of everything that those in panic did not see... Nicholas released her with admonition to find Ealora... but her eyes raised upward... for a moment... before she dissapeared.. into the crowd... then from it... there was a person of great import who could not perish... Marcos: The Spaniard was quick to follow in behind the Lord General and The Knight known as Stryker. He came to stand side by side by the men, looking to them, meeting their gaze and giving a nod as to tell them he was ready. Maahes: "Nic, this is not an attack, it's a massacre. They plan to burn us out." Was his quick discovery as the exits were all blocked. "Get these people to calm, and go one by one..through there." He pointed to one none burning window. Liliana: "The main entrance..." Though it seemed every intention was being made to get the women to safety, Liliana would see to her children first. They had to be frightened. This after everything they had gone through. Nodding, she shoved through panicking bodies, not caring, as she made for the entrance to the great hall. "Hopefully we can go....this way safely..." Looking around, she prayed for Kendrew, but did not see him.. Instead she spotted a frightened Rosalind just as they came to the opening, and she wished she could go to her friend. Hopefully Kaori was still with her. Maahes: Already the fire was burning against his skin as the heat rushed him..new shirt of course ruined. "Stay calm." One by one he would help them all leave. A blessing this Liliana. "Yes you can, keep moving.." Rosalind: The keep's watch was mostly involved in attempting to smother the pitch fires, but it was impossible going -- the pitch, melted, spread everywhere. And the fires with it. Even the unyielding stone burned, cracked, and exploded. Men went screaming from the wall with burning patches of pitch on their skin, unable to shake free of the stuff as it burnt into their bodies. The smart ones dropped to the ground, rolled, and smothered the flames, though the boiling pitch remained. One man, observing this, ordered dirt to be piled onto the burning pitch, and for a while, it looked like the blaze could be contained. That is, until another earth-shaking BOOM signified the fall of the keep's eastern gatehouse. Peregrine: "Move move move move." He tried to get the people to pass in search of Rosalind..Bess..Adam. He would never get out in time to find the trail in which they ran, but quickly his eyes turned upward. The roof had yet to catch, and the pirate was quick to start the climb. A sword would be quick to break free through the rooftop, moving out upon the window the breeze would catch his coat shifting it as he could see in plain sight. A bird's eye view, and eyes as old as the sun searching. Kaori: Kaori took Liliana's hand, and gaining passage, they ran upstairs to where the children were all supposed to be taking care of. Instead, Kaori heard frantic nannies and a number of children terrified and bawling as she and Liliana worked their way to them. "We'll use the servant's passages to get out. It will be less crazy then-" She was cut off by another loud boom, though the noise made the already upset children cry all the more. The priority was the little ones. Thank God she had left her own at Griffin Castle. Marcos: Marcos would sheath the rapier and used both hands to guide and direct people in the direction to where safety could be had as he worked along beside the Lord General and Nicholas Stryker. "Mueva rapidamente! " (Move quickly!) He shouted. Ealora: "Come on my lady.."She grabbed the nearest woman and ushered her to the one window not burning. Taking up a chair, she threw it into the window, busting it open before ushering the woman to it. "Start getting people out, its only a short drop." She left held onto the woman as she climbed out the window and dropped and then the next. A scream went out as the next explosion rocked the foundation. Ealora ducked and covered another woman who clung to her before she was moving again to help the woman out the window. "come on, you have to move faster!" Peregrine: The next boom would come quickly, but the shadows that moved in the dark were heavier, and off into the night the hunter would move. Liliana: Feet moved quickly up the stairs, focus completely on the children now, as she sent a silent prayer up for her husband. Hopefully he was safe.. The sight of frightened nannies and crying children was a sight, and then that boom sounded. First silence immediately after from all the little faces and then the crying became louder. "Hush little ones. Hush now, no no..." Liliana looked for Kylie and Roric, finding the former huddled in the latter's arms. Both were frightened and Roric was trying to look strong. "Lead us Kaori. They all have to go..." Nicholas: "Find another way that isn't burning, that window won't be enough!" He yelled over the screams to the General before he was pushing through the crowd. He scanned the faces, looking for Shaden and Ealora and only finding Ealora at the window helping people out. God damn it when was that woman going to listen to her! The Knight disappeared into the crowd to find his secret wife and later...when they were safe kick her ass! Marcos: Marcos removed his coat, draped it over a mother and chhild as the baby was held in her arms. He ushered them to move along with the others, to the window where Ealora was helping them out. With the next boom, he nearly lost his balance, scrambling to gain control as he came to a knee. He stood erect again and continued to help all others to the window. Kaori: Kaori grabbed one of the frantic nannies and gave her a firm shake, despite the fact the woman was at least a head taller than she. Grabbing her collar she shouted, "Get a bloody grip! The servant's halls. Take us to them and help us get out of here alive." Catching sight of a wailing toddler, she picked up the poor babe and shoved her into the nanny's arms. Recalling something she had seen in the hall, she tossed away the walking stick and found an ornamental sword on the wall. It wasn't sized for her and heavier than what she was used to, but she was sure she would be better off with a sword than a walking stick. "MOVE!" Kay shouted back at the nanny, hoping Liliana was taking up the rear and making sure all the children were seen to. Rosalind: As they escaped, it was easier for those who had been in the Great Hall to see that only the east side of the castle seemed under attack. Though the fires spread, they had a long way to go before reaching the opposite walls on the west. And it was here that the women of the great clans would start taking a count of those present, and find that any man of political or practical worth to their clan was gone.. They were too many, and too important, to believe simply left behind in the Great Hall. This was deliberate. It was sabotage. But by whom? As the castle watch were forced to flee from their fire-fighting efforts, their walk around the perimeter showed that the only forces present out there in the dark were not English at all, but clansmen. Soon, the whisper of "It's no' th' bloody Anglish, fer once," became yet another confused refrain of the evening's chaos. Liliana: At the back of the children was Liliana, Kylie on her hip and Roric holding her hand. Leaning down to whisper to the boy, "I need you to be strong. Help me with the little ones." Squeezing his hand in comfort, she watched him begin to help lead the children toward the servants passages. Eventually, out into the night air Liliana hoped. Every once in awhile a slowing child was gently prodded forward by her loving hand. Even though outwardly she seemed calm for their sakes, she was deeply worried for her husband. Kaori: So far they hadn't encountered any enemies, and while she was in the lead, she was ever watchful. Seeing an older child struggling with her hold on her baby brother, Kaori quickly swept him up into her arms with an encouraging smile. Now that the children were concentrating on moving and seeing the adults calmer, they were finally calming themselves, though some still had silent tears staining their faces. At long last they were carefully moving down steps and shortly thereafter, to a door that led outside. Looking to the woman who helped lead them out, she said, "Count. Make sure they're all here." Kaori was simply trying to figure out what to do next. Marcos: Marcos would be one of the few that trailed in behind the last of the mass of people. Ushering them still with stern voice and gentle hands. A small boy had been knocked down in the chaos and so Marcos would pick him up and carry him the rest of the way while taking the hand of a much older woman with graying hair. He continued to look over his shoulder, making sure others were still following as he continued to push those before him onward. It seemed like it took forever but he would make it outside with the rest of the people. Quickly handing off the boy to his mother who came running up once she spotted him. She thanked him and Marcos only nodded before he began to move through the crowd. "Kaori?!" He called out, his wife to be was now his next concern. Rosalind: "They're no' here!" a woman exclaimed at last, counting for a fifth time. "Th' men! Where have they all gone? There's Angus MacGregor, his brother Hamish, the MacKinnon boys and their father, an' Sir Kendrew -- he's been quiet all night, but Mary Menzies says she saw him.
Kaori: Kaori returned the hug, but shook her head. "No. No, let us get the children taken care of." Kaori smiled at Roric affectionately, ruffling his hair before taking Kylie from Liliana. "Go on. Marcos is fine, you find out what's going on with Kendrew." She then started to lead the nannies and children to the kitchens that were not too far away. There they would be furthest from the chaos and a lot of shaken servants would now be distracted by helping to dry tears with their aprons and dolling out sweets to stop the tears from returning. Once she could see the children were being attended, she ran back out to the concentration of people, never having let go of the sword she had pilfered.
Maahes: His hand came to touch Liliana's shoulder, as he could not find Kendrew anywhere. It was unlike him to not be here. "Marcos, find the admiral..Gather the war council. Demi, Eamonn, Jack..we have much to figure out, and I fear very little time."
Liliana: "No no..." Words were whispered, the lame excuse not helping at all, as fear darkened her chocolate gaze. Roric pressed closer and she whispered softly,"It is okay. I am sure...he is fine...Why don't you take your sister and go join the children?" Passing Kylie to Roric, her gaze searched for faces and then finally turned to look at Maahes. "Where is he...." Her tone begged for him to know. To say all was well.
Marcos: He heard the booming voice of the Lord General, nodding as he continued to move forward. His brown eyes searched and scanned the faces of the massive crowd. As he weaved his way this way and that way, he spotted her. Quickly he came up behind her, hugged her form then and kissed her cheek. He was just glad to see she was okay, and he wanted to have her know he was ookay also. Now that it had been established, he spoke. "I must go now.. I need to locate several of our men. Stay safe and I will find you soon.. hm?" He said before brushing a quick kiss across her lips and moved off to find the men to assemble the war council.
Maahes: Gods how could he do this to her..but as the calms started he let his hand go from her shoulder, "That is what I am going to find out. NO ONE leaves this castle, or gets in. Is that understood?!" He barked to the men at arms waiting. "You raise every flag this country has, and I want everyone questioned. Not a soul sleeps tonight until this castle is searched. Returning a much softer kinder voice to Kendrew's wife he tried to offer her as much comfort as he could, "I will find him, this is my promise to you." Ealora would come up behind Maahes and touch Liliana's shoulder, "Come let's help the wounded?"
Kaori: "Go. Be careful," she said heavily, stroking his arm and patting his back as if to see him off. It was odd to see the tiny courtier in her finery, holding a sword in her hand with every intention of using it if she needed to. Then again, it had recently come out that the High Scholar actually could handle herself, hadn't it. She made her way to where the most people were, trying to see if she could do some good. She was most concerned with locating Rosalind, making sure she was quite well.
Liliana: What had once been an intimidating presence, that of Maahes, was now a comfort. Nodding with trust in her chocolate gaze, she stated quietly,"I believe you." Watching him head off, she turned to smile at Ealora then moved to go help tend the wounded. Roric and Kylie were with the others, and Roric was goofing to cheer up the children that were still so deathly quiet.
Bess: The speed at which Beathag rose was strange. It alarmed Adam, who took the hand of his wife to still her so that he could first go down the steps into the pandemonium. A grand celebration indeed! Peace among clansmen, Christendom acknowleding the civilty of the wild Highlander and the transistion of the Celts into a place of peace.
Adam: "Please, E'eryone! Hold, calm yourself! Things will be set to right." Adam's gaze fell on any man in the vicinity with any power given him. During the war, an edict had been given them that was instated once more. "Act on full authority iffn necessary, ye are given our sway tae bring tae death any wrong do-ers. If ye can 'elp it, I want at least some o' em alive." He looked to Bess and helped her down from the Dias, muttering, "Robert Bruce is a fool. I'm ending this Bessie Eve. Can nay take it anymore. This will come to an end." He slipped away from her hands, gone down to help Maahes in what was now the search for clansmen of importance, the heart of respective family. A war was going to brew worse than what was now for this! The usually calm man was seething.
Bess: "Gather the court taegether, the women, the children. Nay one is tae sleep alone taenight and in the mornin' we are gaein' home." What would old MacRauri have said, of his grandson's dilemma? If it were to be this bad would he have rather them all stay dead or unfound? The look on Liliana's face was joined with other wives who appeared the world was ripped from them. This disturbed a peace. Attired in a finery even unaccustomed to herself, she was an unlikely candidate to have the inner banshee awakened. As she was coming toward Liliana and Kaori to see to their wellness, the room's shifting caught her eye. "Nay e'en the pope can bless these 'eathens, och nay!" Some crossed themselves as Beathag passed, others lowered their head in respect. Upset made seer the slumbering white hound, who's instinct was made awake as a servant seemed to leave the room differently than the others. Woe unto them, the one who's path crossed hers. It would have been for nothing, if he hadn't had looked her in the eye and thought that he could push past her for being slow, recovering from the birth of Davina, gone slow from a noble's life.
Imagine the look of shock as those hands reached out to push Beathag! A woman screamed, "Oh Jesus, it's happenin' again! The earth'll quake and we're being punished, he's triyng to kill her!" "No, you git he isn't gonna kill her!" Her neighbor seethed, but the excitement made people rush forward and guards as well. What was it to see, that as the hands came towards her Green eyes narrowed. Perhaps more frightening then hands going toward her, she caught the fingers in one large, vice grip and brought a grown man to his knees. The other hand then as his tried to push out again took him by his throat and threw him back. "Tha' one....take tha' one n' start tae question 'im. In fact, question the servants entirely."
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 17, 2009 9:59:24 GMT -6
Taken
Fearghus: If Fearghus had known about the attack tonight, he would not have acted. To violate his clan's trust, to look guilty in the eyes of Skye, whom he had spent so long courting, was unacceptable. Yet the wine was consumed, the trap set, and there could be no turning back. Quietly, he slid out of the ceilidh, unmissed, his absence unremarked. One of the Lamont clansmen informed him that Rosalind had taken a seat, and looked pale. It was his cue, and he was swift to act, making his way to the underbelly of the Keep, to a western chamber buried so far out of the way, it was easily overlooked among the many rooms occupied by the ceilidh guests. He lit the candles, stoked the fire in the hearth, and checked in on his sleeping son. The lad's hair was a brilliant shade of blond, but in the firelight, it looked a strange russet shade that reminded him of sunsets. Of his Gwennie's hair, when they were tangled up before another fire, and she caught the light just so in her movements.... The door opened, and a clansman came in bearing Rosalind. He was shaken from his reverie as he commanded the man to drop her on the rug by the hearth. He had plans for her indeed, but it would take some hours before the drug left her system. Until then, he would wait, looking between both of his hostages, and listening to the rising din of chaos overhead.
Rosalind: The hours went by, and slowly, she emerged from the haze. Her head felt as if it was stuffed with wool, and her mouth so dry, her singular ambition in life was to have a drink of water. But as consciousness took hold, and sleep lost its grip, she rolled onto her back and gave a quick look about the room. This was not the dance. Where was she? Aldric! There was her son, sleeping peacefully on the bed, his thumb stuck in his mouth and free hand raked half-through his hair, little brow furrowed in concentration. She tried rolling to her feet, but the drug's effects sent the contents of her stomach churning. With a low moan, she settled back down on the rug.
Fearghus: Fearghus, hearing the slight noise, rose from his seat near the door. "They are not coming for you. They do not know you have gone. Next week, they will find your body rotting in the woods, but you will no' be mourned, I think. Do ye ken wha' they do to adulterers, wife?"
Peregrine: All the world was falling apart-- in flames--by death. Screams swallowed the night as throats closed by the rush of smoke. A General's orders carried high into the night, hopeless as he watched the structure burn. Fire had always been a two sided coin, flipped for destruction but necessary for rebirth. Tonight that coin would continue to spin as lives were taken, but as well saved. The flicker of flames had heated the stone, and the air that rushed to the heavens were a fight all their own. However across the line of the height of the stone a single figure moved with ease. A life spent balancing from branch to branch the Pirate moved swiftly. A mountain of man could climb no higher, but small hands keep well upon small holds. A wise voice from his past carried well as he scaled now the outer wall. "Protect me." He hissed as the wind picked up the heavy fabric of his cloak and would almost carry too the heathen. Every muscle in his arms burned from keeping his body up right, holding well not only for his life, but two others. His eyes burnt from the lingering smoke watering with their protection, but not once would he tear it away from his path. A victorious triumph was short lived, as slow motions found him creeping forward to the keep like a panther upon the prowl. Down into the depths of the castle he now moved with ease, the light of the fire enough to guide him, but the stench of Fearghus could lead any hunter to it's prey. Through the course of the night his bag had been forgotten slung over one shoulder as he made his escape but here a fool fell into assassin. Decorated for war, the black of his attire melted into the shadowy underworld that fell around him like water as would wait.
Fearghus: Deep within the castle, the only fires present were those within the hearth and flickering atop the candles. The fires on the outer wall still burned unchecked, so hot, even standing yards away, the blaze was enough to scorch the skin. Yet the fires above, which had nearly trapped the guests at the ceilidh, had finally been smothered. The message he'd received from his clansman told him all that had happened, and what luck! All the clansmen had vanished, and no one expected Fearghus Lamont to be present with the remaining party. A boon. He crossed the room to kneel beside his wife. "They burn adulterers," he whispered in her ear. "De ye ken wha' tha' feels like, wife?" He did not give her time to consider. Dragging her toward the fire burning in the hearth, he forced her hand over the coals. Hot enough to burn, but not to consume. To heat, but not to blister. Remarkably, she stayed silent, save a grunt of pain, that had not her son been sleeping four feet away, would have been a scream. Disgusted, Fearghus shoved her hand onto the coals, but released her and stepped back. She snatched her hand to her breast, eyes watering with pain. Her husband went to the bed and roused Aldric from his slumber, shaking his shoulder gently and rolling the sleepy boy onto his back.
Rosalind: "You will not touch my son!"
Fearghus: Fearghus straightened up and glared down at her, his brows launching skyward in surprise as he found her standing there, with a stiletto in her hand. "What are ye goin' to do to me tha' ye ha' not already failed at, woman?" he asked before grabbing Aldric.
Rosalind: Rosalind wasted no time. She pulled her son from Fearghus's loose grasp and plunged the stiletto into Fearghus's right hand so that the triangular tip poked through his palm when her husband raised his hand in shock to view her handiwork. His scream of rage would surely be heard beyond the door, which Rosalind now flung herself and her son toward, only to find it locked. She pounded furiously against the door as Fearghus flung himself at her.
Peregrine: An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand. The string of the bow was drawn back, from the figure who loomed in the pane. For every swordsmen there was an equal fight, but for every cheater their was an archer to even the score. Always he held excellent mark, it was in his blood, his vintage ran deep with precision. Through the fools' hand the arrow would slice, cutting deep and returning through the other side. A warning? No..just the beginning. "Always prey on those who cannot defend? Trap your women in corners, beat them until they break.." He shook his head making a degrading scolding sound, as his feet planted then upon the stone floor, and the black shadow falling away like a veil of silk - -giving birth to an even greater evil. There was a wildness then cast darkly in deep pools of blue. An eager enjoyment came with watching that man step back in surprise. A twisted sound escaped him like a laugh, careless and degrading. "How about you let that boy go. Long enough to show me what a real man can do?" He teased with a smirk pressing dangerously under his eye as he narrowed his gaze. "Maybe if I cry enough like her, you'll be able to get that.." Motioning the man's groin with the tip of his now drawn short sword, "Thing up, and make one of your own blood." Maybe.
Rosalind: He was powerless with one hand, though that one hand still persisted, wrenching at the braids pinned to Rosalind's head and forcing her back from the door. Aldric was screaming now, sobbing wildly with confusion and terror, and it broke Rosalind's heart. For so long, she had protected him from this, from knowing Fearghus, from seeing any of the cruelty of her world. But if she could not gain her freedom, what world would that be for him? What world would she leave him, but one easily twisted by Fearghus, a man who's face was so close to Domhnall's, and spirit so much more blackened than his brother's. But when he heard the crash at the window, Fearghus turned. It was in that instant her private war turned, and Fearghus lost. What man was he with two crippled hands? An arrow in one, her dagger in the other, his face sagged as he saw his attacker. Rosalind went back to the door and pounded harder. Certainly, someone must be searching; Perry would not have come alone. She did not want Aldric to see what was to happen next. It was at that moment that she heard a body on the other side of the door -- a firm pounding and a scrabble to pick the lock. It took an eternity.
Fearghus: Fearghus, disabled in the most brutal of ways, took a step back as the sword angled at his genitals. He laughed shortly. "Would ye no' ken, Rosalind, this is just wha' I did to my brother? To gie ye children tha' I might live in peace. I dinna want Lamont, woman. Ne'er did. Did Domhnall call it a hunting accident?" He ignored Perry. He was in his own world, one in which he had been just, and his actions right, for what was the harm of one woman in the scheme of Lamont's vengeance?
Peregrine: Solid black, orbs of blue turned and through clenched teeth words left in a raspy sound, "Rosalind..cover your son's eyes." Where had such strength come from? The fabric of Fearghus's tunic would be taken holding him as the force of much smaller frame barreled him into the wall. The tip of his sword pressed harshly against the man's neck, as his arm pressed into his throat. "DO YOU understand YOU are about to die. You'll be joining me in hell, child." Blood started to seep from the man's neck where the tip started slowly. "SAY you are Sorry!! Say you are sorry to that child! Tell her you are sorry, you pathetic pig. Your legacy ends here, and TRUST me, " He growled , "I'll do everything! Everything! In my power to make that boy NEVER remember you. No one will remember you, so say it!"
Rosalind: The blood drained from her face as she did what Perry told her to do, drawing her sleeve across Aldric's face and turning away. She looked over her shoulder to where Fearghus had been backed against the wall. "It was a very strange hunting accident, non? He could not remember even hunting with you." In her heart, glass broke, a tiny and insignificant sound amidst the din it was already making. Domhnall. She knew she'd been right. Domhnall had given her a child. She had not betrayed him. "Oh, Fearghus, you are a fool. You did not delay attacking the Campbells. You didn't know. Where were you, Fearghus, when I rode out to battle? When I lost Domhnall's child? I do not need an apology, Perry. Kill him. I want to go home." She hugged Aldric to her. She had lost one child. But the one she now had, he was her life. Life would have been so different if Fearghus had merely let God see to Domhnall's fertility.
Colban: Beyond the door, the lock tumbled over. Colban was standing in the dark hall beyond, and with one look at the pirate and Fearghus, knew his place was not as hero here. Not this time. He ushered Rosalind and his son from the room, his eyes lingering on the pirate. He crossed himself and then left. God was not here tonight.
Fearghus: Fearghus smiled mirthlessly. "She was my wife, tinker. I will no' apologize to anyone fer what God has given me to husband. I will beat her when she speaks ill of me. I will use her to get sons. I will have her burned for fornication. She is mine. But none of tha' is necessary now, is it?" he asked rhetorically, as if a blade was not about to plunge into his skin. "She is no' mine much longer. An' she did no' need me fer a son. Well. Get on wi' it."
Peregrine: "O ushalin zhaha.." The chant would start, swallowing all the life from Fearghus's body, only the figure of a man now clutching upon her and her son, "Sar o kam, mangela.." He grinned following the gaze of the man, and turning his lips back to the shell of the man's ear, "That..Is a Campbell. That..is Aldric's real father." He whispered with a twisted feeling in his heart he received much pleasure out of feeling the man's heart quicken under his palm. He felt the pain this Fearghus felt of the realization and there would be where his blade would still the man's life. From neck to chest the tip escaped his throat to plunge into his chest skewering his heart. It was there belief that with happiness came heaven, a life should be spent in laughter so too would their life end. It would bring him a greater pleasure knowing that this man would suffer the entire way. His last thought, would be of two clans united? Never! It broke, and the pirate clad in black only made sure his entire eternity would be felt in that same heartache. As the body with wide eyes fell to the floor, it never amazed him how little he felt for ending another's life. A true black heart taking another, but the retreating figure of the trio would have blue hues narrowed upon them. What would happen now? Would this Vagabond live in the moment of justice? The tip of his blade would push back the dead clansman's arm circling around the string of his coin purse and breaking it from his body. It was heavy, perhaps enough to get his ship back from the graveyard this very man let it fall. Robbing from a man be him alive or dead was breaking the rules, but with every story came a moral -- what no one sees, no one will know, right? Besides, Fearghus just tripped and fell on his own blade..Attaching the purse to his belt, the window would be his escape. He would get no glory from this, no gratitude other then the silent thank you that would no doubt leave his little beauty, but she was free now..and that's that mattered. Colban: "Go on, Rosie," he said. He wanted to hug her, to tell her all would be right, to hold his son and silence those tears. But his duty was not here. The castle was surrounded, the walls on fire, clansmen missing -- chaos reigned, and he could not be with her. It was, truly, the great dividing force between them. He loved her, but they were both far too practical to pick up where they had left off three years ago. Instead, he kissed his boy's forehead, sweeping the blond hair out of his blue eyes, and bowed a farewell to Rosalind. She was not far from where her people were now held, safe from the fires and the siege. She would be safe there, among friends, and finally ... free.
Rosalind: Rosalind felt numb. Was it the drugs, the excitement, the horror? Was it the throbbing of her blistered hand or the soreness of muscles from how she had been unceremoniously dropped on the floor and left for several hours, sleeping it off? She did not know; she could not think. She moved as if controlled by a puppeteer, making her way back amongst what remained of the court with her son in her arms, wondering how she was ever to thank Peregrine. She did not hear the scuffle; she had already closed the door behind her. She was not aware that whoever had stolen the clansmen hours ago had just taken another victim. Colban Campbell had vanished.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 17, 2009 12:00:19 GMT -6
Battle of the Clans
Narrator: The night gave way to a gray, misty dawn. Spring was near, and patches of green stood out brilliantly in the yards of MacRuari Keep, or at least, those patches that were not trampled by the chaos of the night before. The divets churned up by so many feet had created muddy pools, but few were observing the plight facing the gardener while the eastern wall was still burning out of control. Healers rushed to clean and dress the unfortunate souls who had attempted to fight the pitch fires, only to find themselves splattered with the noxious, burning material, and unable to extinguish the flames until trial and error revealed rolling in MacRuari Keep's growing collecting of mud holes was an instant cure, binding pitch to skin, but extinguishing unextinguishable flames. The party from the night before had once again found sanctuary not in individual rooms, but in the great hall. The atmosphere was markedly different than the previous evening, as families bound together for comfort, children clung to their parents, and what remained of the court of Skye attempting to assess the situation beyond the broken walls. All save the wives, sisters, mothers, and daughters of the missing clansmen -- they sat in separate groups, wondering, and waiting. Hoping for news that their men were alive and coming back. It was well into mid-morning when the first salvos were launched, the clans beyond the walls gleefully attacking the weak points in the keep's weakened defenses, and suddenly, Skye had little time to contemplate her missing men, for now all were called to assemble beneath the Gryphon's banner.
Kaori: Kaori was in her own place at this point, strangely alert and not at all feeling the fatigue of a night without sleep. That immaculate twist had been long since pulled out, her hair hanging in a messy black sheet that reached her waist. It was unusual to see her looking so serious, but there was no smile on her lips and no twinkle in her eye. Even when she labored long into the night, smiles were not hard to come by. This morning was not at all what she had expected when readying the day before, but she was starting to get used to the unexpected. She stood by herself for the time being, watching the room with careful eyes. She never put down that sword she had found, though. She'd occasionally test its weight and adjust her grip, frowning. It wasn't ideal, but any port in a storm...
Aegraine: Pitch, the smell wafted danger in its very presence. During the night, flames licked back the dark just enough to tell them how much trouble they were in. "My brother did such a tactic and in the end, it burned itself out. Thowing dirt over to smother i out gets one too close. " She had the new crossbow the Weapon Master gave her, good for distance but not like catapults; she was loking out for anything or one stepping into her range. Without family, Ae gathered with those if Skye and waited for the greater fires t o burn down.
Alendral: As men of Skye's guards prepared for the enemies without, so too would 'Alendral' guard against enemies within. The rsultant chaos had drawn him from his previous task of spy hunting, but the sudden nature had a cost; caught-off guard, he was forced to operate alone, a bad prospect for any spy, particularly when operating in a tense political affair, forcing him to go to ground, to operate largely in shadow. Fortunate enough than that he'd run across an ally in the erstwhile halls, the 'Lily's' owner apparently dead set on ensuring the safety of the Bruce himself, and with some fair amount of convincing him he'd found his replacement 'second'--to say nothing of a vital piece of information she had inadvertently picked up that gave a how to Alen's what. After reassuring her that he was indeed, for now safe--though his future would be anything but if this didn't get unraveled, the two swiftly set to get to the heart of the manner by any means necessary. Black clad, he was a veritible phantom moving through the halls with Shaden in tow, stalking his 'target' with practiced ease. The man in question, one of the servants, was scurrying along the castle walls with an frantic energy; if he was at all aware of who was after him, he might have moved much quicker..
Maahes: His heart went out to their opposite as a prayer in Arabic left his lips in a whisper. Just another day, speaking to God and putting on armor to beat the tar out of his enemy. One day all would catch up to him he was sure, but for now he was in his prime a good strong back, that..he..never..seemed..to..be..able..to..reach. Struggling with the last hatch, another man in arms would come round to help, "Thank you..I'll be the first to admit I am nervous." Maahes would be the first to admit to his captain, with a smirk, "All of you pale face look the same." Was that a joke? One never could tell with this one, but the man would chuckle and pat the Beast's back. An added mass to a man who needed very little turned to face his men, and could only humble him. "Dis' is cake, men." the deep sounds of his voice boomed from his chest...just another day, another battle, and soon he was certain--another victory.
Liliana: Waiting was the worst in any situation. It left time for ones mind to wander over thoughts that grew more horrific by the second. Focusing on something else was generally the only way to keep sanity. That was why Liliana kept to assisting the healers who had set up an area at one end of the great hall. Just hearing the moans that came from those injured, bodies ruined by pitch, was enough to dampen any moods and lessen smiles. During the battle of the valley of the stars, Liliana had had her first experience in such work and yet...this was worse. Skin boiled off, replaced by pitch, and removing it- well was not an option. Spots, both large and small, covered different parts of men's bodies. Cloths were constantly being brought, the call for bandages and salves, and healers worked until tired to the bone. Not even Liliana had taken more than a few breaks, and only then to check on the children. Her black hair was a bit mussed, braid looser than before, and the green gown that had been lovely last night was soiled. (d)
Rosalind: Rosalind's return to the great hall did not last long. First a conversation with Maahes prevented any from noticing the Lady Inveryne in any great detail, and then she did not return. Along the hallways she walked, swiftly, despite her crippled leg and the sleeping child in her arms. Along the way, she encountered one of the few men of Lamont who had been loyal to her since her first day off the boat. Murtagh, a short clansman with a low brow and spiky, unwashed dark hair, was nevertheless of a similar height to a few other famous Lamont men. "Follow," she said quietly, and the clansman did just so. They went deep into the castle, down into the dark, where rooms had been evacuated long ago, past doors she had not wished to see again. Until finally, she opened a door, and invited him within. "My husband is dead," she said quietly. "The men believe him kidnapped, and though I pray for the men who were taken, Fearghus will not be found among them." Murtagh grunted. "Say nay mair," he said, seeing at last the pile of armor, and the reason for their excursion. "Inveryne?" he asked with a smile. She nodded, eyes tearing, and left him to dress alone.
Colban Campbell: Elsewhere, Colban Campbell was introduced to the clansmen rather abruptly, his burly captors managing to toss the huge Scot hog-tied among his fellow clansmen. He found some very inventive curses that were unfortunately wasted on his abductors, for they'd since left. Looking up, he saw several other similarly-bound men, and cursed again. "Weel, Kendrew. This turned out nicely."
Kaori: Kaori was in turmoil, unsure of where she would do the most good. With her fiance set off to gather men, she felt horribly disconnected, especially with so many faces she didn't recognize looking at her. Where would she do the most good? Inside with no words of comfort? Tending the wounded without a passion for treating the wounded. She wished their suffering to end, indeed, but she hadn't a healer's touch. Already she had heard a few people scoff at her, and even she had to recognize it was a bit comical for a lady who stood barely five feet to walk about with a sword in her hands. This would not do. She did not wish to feel idle. Despite the protests of the men at the door, she quietly said, "Let me out now so I can try to be of bloody use." There might have been an argument, but there was fire in the eyes of the Nihonnin. They let her pass, and she looked around, trying to find Maahes or basically anyone that could give her an occupation lest she go mad.
Shaden: Their quarry made a lethal mistake, a slow gambit toward the lower halls and out into the gardens... it was here they would take him Alendral grasping him from behind like a wraith and Shaden, picking up the kicking and writhing feet as they hauled the near panicked servant to a nearby potters shed... completely in silence.. yes Shaden and Alendral were masters of their craft, it was inside the rickedy shed that the interrogation would being... and seeing how time was of the essence... it would go quickly... and perhaps... violently. The overskirt was dropped, revealing the sheath of the royal blue gown, that gave her more room to work, perhaps Alen would wonder at the sudden disrobing.. until a small stilletto would meet the skirt , ripping it into strips used to bind the servants hands and feet.. to a potters bench, sitting astride in and impossible and most uncomfortable position, back arched, arms pulled almost out of socket in streachign to reach the back edge of the bench.... she stepped back casting a glance to Alen as she twirled the small delicate blade easily.... a manic look in the depths of her cold glacial hues.
Ealora: Keep moving and she would not notice how tired she was. A mother of three, she should of had the stamina to keep going through the night and into the day but throw in that she had been 'dead' for, oh hell she didn't even know how long. She was out of shape but the night proofed the looser as she kept herself moving. Whatever needed to be done on her part, she was there to do it and when finally the dawn broke, she was with the clanswomen who had missing loved ones, worrying, waiting. She tried to offer as much a comforting word as she could before servants arrived to aid the people more. Off she went, leaving them behind, at least for now as she moved towards her husband and his men preparing for the battle that was to take place, after last night, this was to be a piece of cake right? No, it was never that simple but the men were stout, were able and willing to fight for their country. Perhaps a lot of it couldn't be understood but they would find out the truths of it in time right? Sari had been replaced by a pair of borrowed britches and tunic top, well she was going to have to borrow armor as well to since hers was at Red Wall, too far away to fetch now. Was she following her husband into battle, damn skippy!
Aegraine: Outside, patroling and on the alert, Ae spotted the scolar from Skye. Still the practical garbed little gray sparrow, the wallflower many did not even see, Aegraine waved to Kaori as she exited the hall,"It's me, Aegraine, engineer? I was watching over there, to seeif any come about the edge of that pile of rubble. Two sets of eyes better than one? " Cheerful for the situation they were in, she spoke to Kaori first.
Alendral: The illusionist was forced to admit that for all Shaden's dainty demeanor, there was quite an animal underneath and hard-fought to suppress a grin in her direction before turning to matters dark. Keeping the Servant subdued whilst Shaden worked his magic, though in perhaps when the servant's conscious might slip briefly, he flashed her a brief hint of the old showman beneath. "So, this all part of your sordid past or is this just a bit of overlap from current profession?" taking only the briefest moment to enjoy the sight of Shaden ripping strips of cloth off herself to use in various ingenious fashion, the Servant's consciousness found the mask back on, and a stiletto pressed to his neck, meeting the gaze with a murderous, cold gaze. "I have no time for any games so let's make this quick! Skye needs a body to blame for this, and I know you're involvement. So tell me where the Clansmen are or that body is yours!" he pressed the knife hard enough to draw blood on the man's throat, showing no hesitation, no hint that he would do anything less, reaching up with a free hand to grasp a full head of hair and wrench it back, exacerbating the earlier care of Shaden's resrtraints.
Liliana: A break, many stated Liliana needed one, yet she just shook her head and continued to help. While water was carried or a cloth dipped into a bowl to wipe at the face of an injured man, those chocolate eyes constantly searched the great hall. Maahes had told her that he'd find Kendrew and God how she hoped he did. Even if...That thought was pushed out of her mind, frown marring her tired face, as she shook her head angrily. It seemed that her husband had a penchant for getting into trouble and he was going to make her hair turn gray at a young age if he kept it up. Determining that he was getting a nice lecture when found, Liliana tossed another pile of dirty cloths into a sack.
Iain: He had escorted the beautiful Chloe MacGregor from Dun Darroch Castle in Struan to the festivities in Turas Lan... He had not wanted to miss the big debut of the newest couple. And a good time ha was having... until the explosions... now he had kissed his beloved Chloe, and disappeared into the crowd to help fight fires, or look for the wounded... or the perpetrators...Clan Wars... he had been thru this before... and even done his share of the dividing... now he was on the other end of the spectrum, trying to keep the clans together for Lord Aberdeen....Days since the first attack on Skye people... Lord Adam had depended on Iain... no one had taken that chance on him... even in the face of a divided clan, Adam supported him... now he would return the favor...Chloe... he thought of her, and returned to the place of the Ceilidh... but Chloe was nowhere to be found... but wait a faint glimpse of her... Someone was pulling her away... a man !!! Behind him... a call to arms... General Maahes was gathering troops... Lord Aberdeen was in the courtyard readying men... but Iain... he was in the middle... did he go after his love... or fight for the love of his country??? With a heavy sigh... he takes a sword off a dead man along the wall... Hail Robertsons... Gather round lads... beckon to arms !!!!!
Enemy Clans: "He's got th' Bruce in there. Are we gang ta' stand fer this injustice? Tha' man fought fer Scotland an' kept th' English out! Tha' man in there is a hero, lads!" The rallying cries were similar across the gathered men, the clans who had gathered to celebrate, and were now as confused as the rest of the world. Still, there was no answering call from the keep, even as the archers began to line up for their first assault. Well, this would be easy pickings indeed!
Lamont: The Lamont clansman gathered his fellow men up, and went to rally with the Robertsons. It was strange to see the Laird Struan present when so many clansmen had disappeared the night before, but in absence of other leadership, Laird Struan would serve as the voice of authority. Murtagh, with his face hidden by a visor, spoke to few men, gruffly asserting it was the amount of wine consumed the night before. His head ached something fierce, and no, by God, he had not let himself be taken by a bunch of sneaking idiots. Like Laird Struan, Fearghus Lamont was here to fight.
Kaori: In her quest to find a familiar face, she had found herself successful, though perhaps not the face she expected. She lost the name as she approached, but thankfully Aegraine had been kind enough to offer it first. "Yes, of course, Aegraine," she said, offering a hesitant smile, though it was tight-lipped and strained. She sighed, temporarily sticking the blade into the soft dirt of the ground to flex stiff, aching fingers. Seeing a twig on the ground, she picked it up, hurriedly sweeping her hair into a very messy bun and used the stick to keep it in place. Pulling the sword back out of the ground, she looked over the pile with the engineer, frowning. "Has there been any movement you've detected yet?" she asked, her own eyes alert. This was still waiting, but at least she could do some good out here. If there was to be a fight, despite her fiance's desire, she would be of far more use in the thick of it.
Kendrew: "Aye Colban." Kendrew as a man whom had committed himself to learning an array of knots, yet had no expectation of being the one bound by them. The rope twine cut into his wrists. Everytime he flinched the merest inch he paid the price. "This fookin' turned out like a pig's arse in a gown. Ye know lad when we get out o' this..Fook lent." A plethora of gaelic curse words left the mouth of a pious man but no women were about to hear the grave offense. Sounds of battle filled the air, and thus far it seemed they'd either be left here to die, die in some sort of seige, or die of boredom. "N' we're gaein' tae Argyll, we're gaein' tae tell tha' idiot tha' Aye, Ah'll be his tanist, ye'll be the lad beside me n' were making sense of this family!" His rather mild accent became thick and muddled in the mire of his anger, but rest assured. When Kendrew Laren Campbell the III got out of this, somebody was going to be on the other end of that man's sword! "God be damned..
Bess: Stay here, keep safe Beathag... The simplest words of instruction from husband to wife would be the catalyst for the rumbling of a quake that none felt with the surrounding fires, cannons, calls of battle that spilled in the window of the room that was aye, a fine place. Restored furnishings, her husband's kinsmen revitalized save for one dire mistake: Instead of being moved with the others, she'd been locked in! Pounding on the door for hours rendered a sore throat with a body that collapsed in frustration in a chair. The fireplace had gone pitch to all but the last glowing embers. Where was Adam, she wondered, what fate of the other clansmen..some of whom she had heard McMoriach. A name long since dead like the bones of ancestors; her first husband, a life in maiden days. MacRauri. Campbell. Lamont. Names, names. All names dancing on the edge of fate, wicked intentions and old rivalries that had wracked the lands since she was but a thought in her mother's eye. A brooding woman turned to a furious woman. Silent. One never wanted her to go silent for in that time would be when the mind began to search, to wander, the eyes to see what ought been a vestige of honor but now it scared her: Above the fireplace poised in a place of reverance was the axe that had cut through time itself. Adam had given it a warrior's place beside his Grandfather's sword! Conflicted, green gaze turned sidelong to avoid the voices that arose from a sleeping place- but alas, she tried...Gods how she did, but to touch it was to feel the hound that had gone away awaken with a vengeance. The servants who served as weak guards found the error of their mistake in locking the door when the center of it became splinters and with strewn blonde hair where the coronet had once been..they were on the other side of her axe. "Take me tae m'women, take me tae the fray, or I swear tae Gods ye'll die like the dogs ye are for e'en tryin' anythin' tha' stupid. Think ye tae best me down?"
Shaden: In that moment of lightness, she would laugh as Alen's eyes roamed the flesh reveled by the slit skirt as she moved to tie the man in a hateful yet impressive bondage pose... ohhh how very painful that must be.. she stepped back and winked at Aen as he asked where her expertise... in knots had come from.. and pouted in a perfect moue. of ripe lips that begged for a man's kiss... among other things to be pressed against them " Ohhh don't you wish you knew.. Illusionist... " the tease in her voice was quite impressive considering it happened as he was pressing the blade into the servants neck and a steady stream of blood ran downward staining the man's shirt... " Ohhh do not dissapoint him.. dear man... I assure you if need be he will take his time.. in fileting you.. alive... I'm told he can slice meat so thin you can read thru it... however I've never seen this technique so it might be very educational " her voice was tinged with a darkness that Alen had never heard from the Lily's Mistress.. what happened to MISS OH FIDDLESTICKS my DRESS IS RUINED... who was this creature who seemed so... delightfully deadly... ohhh the tricks of light and shadow.
Chloe: It was in the midst of the first set of explosions that she felt an hand upon her arm, the stale breath of a man deep in his ale cups agaisnt her cheek.. as she was drawn out... of the main hall, she fought, until something was said to silence her perhaps a threat against her beloved Iain... for that was the only thing that would still her struggles and make her comply.. a stiff walk and she was out of the castle and into the night.. was she taken... to where the other Clans people were held.. no... not quite.. this was nothing to do with the current clan war.. but another that was fast upon the horizon... Searc shoved the signed parchment into her face... and roared... at her as she argued refusing her seat upon the horse at first.. and screaming him down like a harridan, until his hand found her cheek in a resounding slap.. that spun her head, and brought a clouding blackness to her sight.. she reeled backward, blood pouring from her lip.. as she was hauled bodily up before him... and off into the night... toward McGreggor Holdings... The Bastard of Strauns Whore... had been captured... check mate...
Aegraine: Quietly she said, "If any know this castle plans, to get through to the main hall, beyond yon rubble is a roundabout way, if the goal getting at the families inside, to obtain access to those inside. If we spot someone, stop them. "Let's get a safe spot and watch from cover." she had her crossbow armed and a quiver of bolts at the ready, stands with Kaori.
Alendral: The Servant was little more than a bastard that took advantage of his place for fortune: he was no hardened spy, and he was not fit to play games. He cracked within mere moments of the banter, practically gibbering at the playful improvisation of his impromptu companion. But imagine his surprise when he found out the missing Clansmen were behind the lines of the men set to besiege the castle? pretty much his worst nightmare personified. For all his skill in matters of subterfuge, infiltrating an enemy camp was a messy, and bad affair: for all his wit, he was not as proficient at is as Kryptmann, and even he'd hesitate sneaking about a charged, bloodthirsty lot. The Illusionist smiled, coolly, at the servant before braining him with the shaft of the stiletto and knocking the poor bastard out. Before sharply standing up. "Bloody hell, probably snuck them out one of the smaller gates in the confusion. " his head snapped about, hearing the cries of men readying for war and other matters, and cursed inwardly, there was no time to acquire help! "Bloody hell, I'm going to do have go at it myself. Look--go back to the Bruce, I'll go see if I can't bring the bloody Clansmen back. " Stupid as it was selfless, he was aware of Shaden's intention and, at least at first, offered her an out. Provided she of course refused, than the two of them would be off to the camp quick as they could, through the same entrance Alen figured bore the Clansmen out in the first place--if they had snuck them out that way, seemed a decent way to sneak in...
Maahes: Kicking butt and taking names--Woo! There we go! Maahes was out and about in the fight. However tonight he would let the Duke take lead, as the pawns were placed before their king, by his knight--this battle became personal. A promise to Liliana he would bring Kendrew home--that was his one true thought. Of all the trials in Skye, this one he felt Bess could handle all on her own--that look was proof. In the heat of the battle he couldn't help but smirk slipping around the sides into the dark to sneak his way to the front.
Robert the Bruce: The explosion rocked the castle... and feebly Robert climbed from the bed... Supported by chairs and tables, he made small steps to the window... from there he could see the damage... the chaos... he had to stop this... he was no captive... he came upon free will... His feeble ears having heard the shouts beyond the wall... slowly, the now feebled old man made his way out the door and down the hallway... soon he came upon a lad... "Coom lad, support this old man... Ah moost help..." the lad protested but he did as his King commanded and helped the old man down the stairs... "Ah moost stop this... Scot'land cannae fight amongst their selves..."
Adam: "Lords... Nobles... freemen of Skye... Stand yer ground... keep them from the castle... King Robert is ill inside...." grabbing a passerby man's arm... "Yu there... gae unto the walls, tell them King Robert is nae captive... he is a guest..." letting go of the man, he went to do as Lord Adam commanded... Then Adam began forming units, and giving plans for them to follow to quell the uprising... In the meantime, cannon upon the walls were being readied... He would lead units, but he would refuse to countermand General Maahes' orders... now he would simply follow... and suffer Beathags fury, for him actively engaging, later.
Iain: While the other clan leaders was being kidnapped... Chloe and he were... well occupied elsewhere in the stables... and now... she was taken whereabouts unknown... and he was at the gates, his clansmen who once enjoyed the Celidh now were bearing arms by his side... At General Maahes' command, he would lead the Robertsons agaunst other clans... same scenerio... different reasons... He smiled at Lamont and saluted with his sword.
Searc MacGregor: "Damn yae lass, yae nae shall marry no Robertson... Ah gots all the rights tae yae.." she was insistantly shoved into the saddle behind Searc by waiting companions...... her resistance never a match for his brute strength... "Yae live with yer husband... me... and nary a thing yae kin dae..." soon the pair would be away from sight and inteference from others. "If'en yae refuse... then that Iain'll die for sure..."
Iain: The sword clashed as General Maahes ordered them forward... Iain was embattled with clansmen... the fight, all a misconstruance of information and misguided leaders... One leg, one side... one arm... man after man, Iain cut or hacked to keep them from entering the walls... Now was not the time to consider who the enemy was... let others do that later... right now was the time to keep the enemy out.
Enemy Clans: "HE LIES!" came the resounding shout from the clansmen, followed by hoots of derisive laughter and flashes of steel. "The Bruce is inside, and ye're keepin' him prisoner until ye ha' yer way! What more does he want, aye? Ye're a disgrace tae Scotsmen!" The archers, as one, pulled back on their bows, and sent the first volley of arrows over the wall, showering down on whatever hapless souls happened to be out in the yards. The air of celebration and sneering humor remained even as Skye men poured forth. "We'll cut 'em down, aye? One by one, we'll cut 'em down! For the King!"
Rosalind: Rosalind had little to do after armoring Murtagh. She hoped the clansman was able to give a reasonable impression of Fearghus, and at least explain why he was here, and not with the other men. Fortunately, Fearghus was not a particularly verbose man in life, and if he could grunt, nod, and wave a sword, that was all that was required. She nodded to herself. This was right. Murtagh would be fine. She rounded the corridors, making her way back toward the great hall, with Aldric balanced on one hip, her injured hand held out, though her arm was able to support his weight. It was just as she began to approach the hall that she heard some very curious noises indeed from behind a door. Was that...? "Oh dear." Someone was chopping through a door. She wondered if they would ever be invited back to this keep ever again. They were making very terrible houseguests. She pulled her second knife from a hidden pocket in the brocade, a neat looking flamberge, or flame-shaped 10-inch dagger. It was sharpened, and she knew how to use it. And Rosalind could look very intense with a baby in one arm and a dagger in the other, even if it was the wrong hand! The guards shot each other worried looks, paused, and then dashed, boots pounding down the halls. Rosalind shouted something not very ladylike in French at their retreating backsides and rapped politely on the door. "Hallo in there?"
Lady Mary: Well! A lady rides halfway across Scotland, all but swims across the ocean to the western isles, and this is the sort of reception she gets? Ha! She laughed as the horsemen plunged toward MacRuari keep, foot soldiers keeping perfect time with a booming cadence. She wanted them to know she was here. And certainly, she had not come alone. Where the forces of Skye had once been vastly outnumbered by the gathered clans, it could no longer be said that this was the case as Lady Mary came riding forth with all the Highland clans, from the stubbornly resistant Frasers to the nearly sixteen clans represented by the Chattan Confederacy. The war was on.
Kaori: One might worry for the ladies who had decided to venture outside rather than stay inside where it was safe. At least Kaori and Aegraine were lucky. Kaori had been inspecting the area they were in and found a lot of wood from work that had been done on the wall before winter. She had been pulling up a board when the first volley of arrows had been launched, and Kaori actually new the sounds of zipping arrows from her past. Not bothering to attempt an explanation, she grabbed Aegraine's wrist, pulled her down beside her and crouched low, using the board angled over them to catch any arrows that might have been trying to reach them. She gasped as she felt a few thuds, knowing their makeshift shield had served them well. "Help me!" she said, pulling their protection with Aegraine, trying to retreat toward the walls of the house, but keeping ready to shield them once more should another shower of arrows start to fall. Well, this wasn't what she had pictured at all. But if the fight were to involve swords, she'd at least be alive and ready for it.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 17, 2009 12:09:35 GMT -6
Beathag: "Out o' m'way." Her voice became a stoic, waspy thing that trembled under the weight of a nightmare that revived itself. The door's center was a collection of fracture shards, and from it Rosalind would see strands of golden hair hung helter skelter over cold eyes. The weight of that axe in her hands was not wanted, by God! This looked like, it felt too much as if the past and present were folding in on themselves. The poor men-at-arms had long since fled that thing in there was not woman, but demon. She was partially stuck, the door having not fully given way from the persistent blade. "Get...me...out o' here..." She muttered, when angry, her throat had the habit of nearly closing. Poor woman was literally stuck between the doors.
Shaden: For long moments she stood silent.. weighing the options... to stay with Alen... or return to the Bruce... it was then... that and epiphany materialize in her mind.. and she smiled softly at Alen.... " I will go to the Bruce.. good luck to you my friend.. wish me the same for if I am... successful... your goal will be easy as a waltze... " with a flash of her enchanting smile she was gone.. into the darkness and back into the castle... up the stairs.. where miracles upon Miracles she met the Bruce.. her intent... coming down them... " Nae... My King.. not down.. up... up onto the parapets... " her arm slipped beneath his shoulder to help steady him..... " build a fire upon the parapets.. to light the Kings. way.. " she demanded of the boys who aided him... " go... quickly... the King will address his people " one stayed behind as they began the long trek upward and out into the night air... labored breath from all took in the sights of war, people torn asunder by a land not held beneath a firm hand... " Spend your last Days as a Great King... As you are..... Address your people.. call for unity.. freedom... stand fast upon the principals... you held so dear... and still hold dear.... Robert... this is your Country your Destiny Your People... Lead... them... to freedom " she encouraged him as she helped him to the edge of the parapet that overlooked the battle below, now the King stood.. Crown on his head.. above his people perhaps for the last time.. at his side... the least likely of all... a woman he had once.. desecrated and humiliated... if she could find forgivness in her heart for him, and help him heal the wound his indecision had left scarred upon the land.. could not his people rally to his call?
Chloestrain: She cringed as he laid out what her life with the McGreggors would be fighting the nausea that came with the blow to her face... she held onto Searc's middle out of necessity not want... she would rather touch a pole cat in full fury and live with the stench.. but a tumble from a fast moving horse was not a decent option.. at this point, neither was Iain's life.. ended... " I'll not marry you.. I'll not stand before a priest and vow my love and faith for you.. I am not yours... I love Iain... and no other.. and this will never change that... " she hissed and spat out her answer like foul food upon her tounge as they rode into the night.. away from Iain.. away from DunDarroch.. away from everything.. she held dear... he would come for her.. this was some mistake.. he would make it right... the parchment was a lie.... there was no way that Iain's father would split them apart betrothing them to separate parties.....It was in her mind then and there... that she would never willingly go to the alter with Searc... no matter the threat she would never betray Iain's trust... she had pledged her heart and soul forever to him and that she would keep... no matter if she were locked in a nunnery.. she would do so gladly... and await him... forever and a day.
Alendral: So the illusionist would see things to his own, not that he could have blamed Shaden, in the long run--in this, perhaps one would find easier than two, though it didn't make him wish for assistance any less. Through the lesser gate he slipped, following the trail as best he could, though in the end he would find it hard to miss the Clansmen's war camp, but now getting in, now there was the problem. The men were tense, prepared for war even removed from the front lines--the man would be dead an instant if he was caught. He watched, carefully, waited. There was a brief interlude in the guards patrol, a blind spot. It was so small a window! if he made one slip, one miscalculation.... they passed by one another, slipped again, barely out of sync. There, there... there ! the spy broke out into a run, barely making a sound along the grass, slipping through in the mere moment, among them. Like a phantom, a ghost, he lurked, waited--followed a guard until the one moment he was far enough away, clad in the armors of war... well, it'd do at least. The man turned a corner, out of earshot, the illusionist followed, waiting... waiting, now! he pounced from behind, slinging an arm over the man's neck and cutting off air supply before he could shout his alarm, struggling with him as he sought to cut off blood flow to the brain and subdue him. It had to be quick--in moment's he would be discovered... the guard struggled, thrash, went limp, leaving Alendral a mere moment ot catch his breath, drag the body somewhere safe, restrain it with material on hand--a strange little parody of Shaden's earlier display using shirt sleeves, straps of his leather harness that held some of the concealed weapon. Away disappeared Alendral Sorceror, in stepped Alendral the guard--it was far from perfect--he couldn't exactly waste time buckling everything properly and it was ill, sized, but it'd have to do, he at least would look like one of the Clansmen's men from far away. So he'd set about, moving as carefully as he could, checking tent by tent...
Maahes: "Get DOWN!" He boomed out to the men in the line of the archers, "Put up! Put up!" He barked going behind correcting shields that held back the rain of iron. An Arabic curse to the Lord passing his lips as he hated archers--cheaters--cowards, fights were to him meant to be face to face, not hidden in trees. Over his shoulder he heard arrows fire in other directions as the line of rangers would round the top of the castle's peek. "5..." Arrow would fire again, "6..Danae you better catch up!" He grinned to the Ranger, and she would only roll her eyes, "I'm at 17 arse."
Iain: so much for celebrations... his sword now stained with Scot blood... again... but this time not of his choosing.... he followed orders of his Lord...
Robert: Step by slow step down the corridor to the tower stairs... then veered by Shaden... where did she come from? Now up...up... up... The Scot King was making his way feebly up to the tower.... to the parapet... then the light behind him took away the shadows... he faced an embattled people... He glanced at Shaden once, then stepped forward to the parapet wall... "Hear me Scotsmen... stop the fighting... tis nae the time tae fight amongst ouselves... Let us heal Scotland..." his voice hoarse but still amazingly strong... He reaches behind him and takes her hand...squeezing it lightly... then his free hand holds the wall... together they hold the torch, waving it... "Scotsmen... stop Ah pray yu... Bound fealty to Scotland... to the Lord of the Isles... to the new High Lord of the Gaelic Nations..." It wasn't a secret any longer... King Robert had proclaimed Adam Aberdeen as the Gaelic Lord... Would the fighting stop? Did they hear me? Would Scotland be united and free? Could Adam do what he said he would do... for the free Gaelic Nations? He knew he would not live to see it.... He just did not want to die seeing Scot fighting Scot or be in fear of an English King....
Lady Mary: "I bet someone up there's holdin' a sword at the ready," one particularly embittered clansman said. But his thought didn't last long. He looked down to see that the moment of distraction and worked to Skye's advantage, and then promptly toppled over. Elsewhere, clansmen looked up from their fighting to see a sight, that if they lived, would haunt their nightmares for years to come. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being so totally ready to accept victory against the ill-prepared men of Skye, and seeing death come riding over the hills to a steady cadence and the vision of Lady Mary riding upon her horse, hair loose to the wind as if she was Bodiccea herself. Surrounded by her men, she had the luxury of listening to her brother's speech. Ah, so it was true! Her brother was no captive. Well, that certainly changed her motive. Vengeance was no longer politically correct, when vengeance worked against Skye. For the first time in a very long time, Lady Mary decided to help Robert the Bruce. "Ye ken wha' tae de, men," she ordered softly. "Round up the clansmen. Kill as few as possible. Th' victory is all but assured." With that, she reined her horse in, and rode to the back of the lines, where, as a woman, she would be safe from the fray, but not entirely absent as their motivating figure.
Colban Campbell: Colban frowned. He rocked in his bindings, but succeeded only in injuring himself. This wasn't going to work, not in the slightest. He looked to Kendrew. If they couldn't do what came natural to them as warriors and farmers, they would just have to try something else. For Colban, this was to rouse his fellow captives into shouting their new refrain. Because fighting during Lent was unpleasant. "FOOK LENT!" shouted by several bound Scots in a tent was enough to cause the front flaps to flutter, and even stopped some of the surrounding fighting as clansmen wondered what the devil was going on in the Graham tent!
Rosalind: Rosalind spotted what could only be Her Grace stuck in the door. "Oh Heavenly Father," she murmured, and it was too bad her hands were full with baby and dagger to cross herself at the blasphemy. "Aldric, be good for maman," she cautioned the lad, and then grabbed what she could of her lady duchess... and pulled. When Bess was free, Rosalind dusted the lady off, dusted herself off, and blew a lock of escaped hair out of her eyes. "Bonjour, madame."
Kaori: Once she heard King Robert's voice pleading with the clansmen to stop the insanity, did she finally feel safe enough to abandon her spot of safety and rush to help men who had been hit, dismissing bodies that were dead and rushing to those that were merely injured. "Stop that!" she barked at a younger man, trying to pull an arrow out of his shoulder. "You need to get inside before you remove that unless you'd like to bleed to death?" Well, this was what Kaori had been seeking to avoid, but there she was, tending to the injured. A couple of men who had only flesh wounds Kay directed to men that needed to be dragged inside and attended. Her eyes were ever watchful in case the king's pleas were answered with more arrows but somehow she doubted it. A frown pulled at her lips as she scanned the arrow, praying Marcos had made it out well, and hoping he would be able to make it back in the same state.
Beathag: "This.....Lent, ye call it? Oh ...fook this Lent." Christians were mad people, for all of them were fighting now worse than the heathens her people were proported to be, and wasn't his holiness to have been here? What did he think of his holy season of piety all but ruined? The child in Rosalind's arms made her body ache for her own! "C'mon girl. We're..gettin' out o' here. I remember where..Ah be gaein. Childhood. " Sense restored somewhat, bits of leather and cloth laying about were the quick fasteners that tied the axe to her for free hands.. "ye were ne'er suppose tae see me this way...ne'er..please, ne'er tell them tha' ye did." She shook her head vehemently, going around corners, at times in open air, the walls askew or not there...broken glass, fire and smoke from the outside. So this is what dreams were made of. Adam's reign of Lord over all soaked in the same blood that secured his own lineage. Gently pushing Rosalind aside for she had a child, she came upon the sneaky servants who barred the way to the great hall. Not meant to do harm, they all but scrambled as the unbound axe came down again, only this time it was cutting the doors down. Imagine those within! Did they think the wore had finally reached them? Hold one another, pray? "Are they in there? Are they?! Ahdam, Kaori? Liliana! " Keep her people in? Never! "Gather up, gather up! I'm gettin ye tae the roads, yer gettin' the 'ell out o' ere!" She groaned, her body still recovering from the birth of the child, fueled on adrenaline, it was still a wonder as the last of the lock came apart from booted foot.
Shaden: She stood at his side.. for all the world.. he was regal and majestic one last time... her hand squeezed his back tenderly... as she gazed up at him... with tears shimmering in her eyes... " Our daughter would have been proud of you tonight.. the True and Rightful King of Scottland... Your Majesty " she bent low and respectful to him... then rose... looking over the stalled battle.. " Look.... what few words from your lips has done.. stilled a battle between brothers... and offered a nation.. hope... that is the Mark of a True King... the love of his country and his people... " she smiled sadly as he wavered... so weak.. but she knew he wanted to savor this moment... to look out one last time ... as a King.. to his people... her hand slipped into his..... as he shuddered softly...
Alendral: Well that was unexpected. Just when he thought this whole thing hopeless--weighed his options and realized he was far likely to be caught just poking his head in random tents that he heard the resounding battle cry of the down-but-not-out Clansmen... a fairly distinct one at that. An expression of sheer puzzlement crossed his face from the shadowed position before he moved off in that direction. The shouts drowned out the struggling of wayward guards--the man moved, lightning fast besides the heavy armor, jamming his knife into the vulnerable joints of their armor, dropping them without so much as a shout, their warcry giving pace to his bloody work. after a few moments, the strangely small looking guard would slip in. "Oi, oi! you lot!" he grinned from ear to ear. "f**k bloody Lent then, eh? Answer to your prayers barely seems appropriate, now does it?" with a free hand he wrenched off the helmet and went to the one they all subtly deferred to, crouching low and working off the binds that slipped him in. "'Ello there, friend. pleasure to meet ya. Alexander Sorschal, Talon Order, at your service!" the bastard was almost playful despite the harrowing nature of the mission. Once done, he'd saw fit to free as many of them as possible. "Got a pair of swords for a few of your mates but the rest are gonna have to be your own. How'dya fancy a bit of heroics?"
Liliana: Fighting, noise that left children huddling in the arms of mother's with frightened eyes, even as others moved around still tending to those who needed it. Liliana had paused to soothe Kylie and Roric with a gentle kiss to cheeks while one hand smoothed back wayward locks of hair. Crouched down on the floor, smiling up at small faces pale with worry, she did her best to ease their minds. Even if hers would not be. She had just stood to go back to tending the wounded, back of hand wiping her forehead and brushing hair off her face, when the smashing at the door sounded. Panicked women and children let loose cries, holding the little ones tighter, as they thought the attack had somehow...came inside. That was until the shouts of the Duchess could be heard. Catching that familiar voice, chocolate eyes wide, Liliana's one brow lifted, "Bess? What in the bloody hell are you doing?" The word slipped out so easily, she didn't even notice.
Robert: He looked at Shaden. "Yer a good woman ... and Ah pray tae see yae treated as yae deserve... nae as Ah did yae... and Ah bae glad yae forgave me..." then his knees buckled a bit from fatigue... but yet again Shaden held him firm against the wall so all below could see... Robert just turned back to the crowd... "Scotland is free... rally behind our naew Guardian... give fealty tae the High Lord of the Gaelic Nations... and the alliances he has made..." He had made the commitment to Adam and Beathag... and had gotten forgiveness from the woman he scourged... there is but one more he required forgiveness from before he died... his sister. But with a sigh, he figured that day would never come...
Adam: The Lord of the Isles stood near the torn hole in the wall from the explosion... The fighting soon waned... people began to point up... words were faint... and they made their way closer to hear... Adam looked up, move closer and his sea-green eyes grew large... "That damn fool..." he silently uttered. "He'll nae make it tae morn if'n he dun lay down..." Adam wiped the blood off his sword with a lost shirt, then sheathed it and breathed deep. Listening, he heard the clear words of his new title.... "He dun gone and dun it...." no sooner than the words came from Robert, that people nearby him began to bow deeper than usual... He didn't want to be King... words are words... a pig is a swine or a pig no either name... he thought... But now he had the reins to the wagon... Looking upwards to Robert, he bowed and waved.
Iain: Soon the fighting subsided... Scot fighting Scot was done... He had heard the King... and he glanced across the way at Adam... Crossing the space between them... he bowed "Mo'r Triath, I presume..." he said with a smirk... "I pledge fealty to you and your house... The MacRuaris shall always be allies to the Robertsons..." he bows again... "My yer leave my Liege... I have personal business ot attend..." and after the Mo'r it for Triath allowed his new friend and ally to go... Robert: He acknowledges Adam's bow and wave... then he looks to Shaden... "Help mae bak tae mae room lass..." then as the pair walked down the stairs and to the corridor... he pauses and looks to her. "Coom, stay at mae place in Edinburgh... spend mae last days with me... AH shall make it profitable faer yae... jest lemme spend mae final days with a good woman... th mother o' mae daughter... soon Ah bae joining her..." his eyes blurred, and tears rolled down a very wrinkled face.
Colban: Colban grinned in relief and shook the blood back into his limbs. "It is good to meet ye, Alendral. Ye cam' just in time, no?" He grabbed Kendrew by his arm and hauled the man to his feet, being the only one in the tent tall enough to attempt such a thing. "Who's left ta fight, hey?" Colban wouldn't take a sword from another of the men in the tent -- they had been waiting in line longer, as it were. By luxury of not being in the great hall during the kidnappings, he'd had a few more hours of freedom they had. And so he made a quick exit from the tent, easily lifted a sword for himself and one for Kendrew, and dashed back into the tent. "Shall we see fer ourselves or would we rather camp out here findin' more obscene things ta shout?" That seemed to motivate the men, who left in a marauding horde, looking more like Vikings on the rampage than clansmen pent up all night in trusses. Sadly, the war was winding down in the wake of the Bruce's speech, for all -- that is -- save the madmen of Clan Campbell, who were too busy fighting one another to notice they were the only ones now engaged!
Lady Mary: Lady Mary dismounted from her horse. The world felt slow, and her left arm weak. When she looked up to the castle, she saw her brother doing, for once, what needed doing. Rather than playing favorites among his honor guard, he was doing what the crown entitled him to do. He was, by God, the King of Scotland. Lady Mary dropped to her knees, her eyes rolled heavenward, and then she slid into the mud, her passing remarked by not a single one of her followers.
Kaori: As Kaori worked at getting the soldiers that needed help to the proper place, she heard the voice of Bess pitching quite a fit and making a commotion. Seeing the men that could be helped were well on their way at this point, she went rushing with wide eyes, reaching her at precisely the same point as Liliana. Liliana asked the proper question, and Kaori actually dipped a curtsey, her hair a mess, fastened with a bloody stick, the hem of her dress covered in mud. "Praise the Kami! I mean Christ! I mean God? Oh, I don't know, I'm so glad to see- Is that an axe?" Well, if she had been short on direction earlier, at least she was not short on things to say.
Kendrew: "Sorchal! Ha! Ye damned bastard I could just near 'bout kiss ye!" Who would have ever thought to see the day when those two would find some common ground! After his bonds were slice by Sorschal and his body made right by the only other behemoth his size among their kinsmen. Sword in hand, they went off to find something to make due with! "Oh ye know what I'll descrate? I'ma get back tae Turas Lan, eat meat lad..drink, till I piss ale, and in the midst of it all taking my wife tae bed." Oh now ....coming about to see their kinsmen at odds? He snarled and for want of hitting something, reached out and smacked one of them upside the head. "Ye fookin' idiot!"
Adam: Adam stood below the tower looking up at Robert... he was now just short of King. What would his Father think now? Soon they would meet... but albeit with such power as the command of the new Gaelic Nation and its allies... all united under the Gryphon banner. What would his grandfather think??? To his left.... a bit of banter from a familiar feminine voice...he swallows hard.
Beathag: "Come on, c'mon...we're gaein home lasses. This is nay place for m'people." Aye, Kaori, it was an axe, and not just any axe either. It was an axe that carved a literal nation. But her eyes turned from them, the axe low in her hand as the last words of Robert's speech struck the bell in her heart. "This is nay place fer Scotland's people...ye hear it? It's done now. It's...done." Small voice and one would say, almost set free. "Ah'v ewaited..o'er thirty years..." She clutched a hand to her heart. That would be when the last of what lived of the Hound died, and the Griffin could take roost. The voice of her mother, her kindred and his took the place of the rage, the anger, the loss as she walked past them. Startled and confused, they watched as she took up the Brooch of Skye, the sign of the Lord's reign..to give it to Adam as she should have done in Aberdeen. With her two hands. Not in bloodshed.
Adam: As she approached, he shook his head seeing the axe... and smirked. "Nae'r kin yae leave it eh? Afraid yae'd miss out?" his arm wrapped around her... "Did yae hear lass wot the King Robert said...? He dun wot he said he'd dae... Ah bae the Mo'r Triath..." Seeing her with the emblem of his Father, he swallowed hard... The Brooch... the truest form of freedom and reign that any man could have... He took it... held it high, for all those who saw the Brooch, knew what it meant and stood for... Then he turned to his Bessie Eve, took her into his arms, and kissed her with the love and passion he had since day one... no fear of ridicule for public affections... he loved her... he promised her a home and safety... now he has accomplished all but ending his Father's threat... "Ah luv yae las... always and forever..." then together they held up the bejeweled emblem of Skye's truest hierarchy...
Beathag: "Ah dun want it anymore," She surprised even him, hefting it aside as she came forward with the past, present, and future in her hands. "Ah dun 'ave tae fight anymore, they are at rest now n' it's done. Adam..it's done." The King calling himself King one last time as the sun set on him and was nearing to rise over Adam. As they showed the brooch to the people, against the backdrop of the destruction of his kindred's castle they shown like two immortal creatures of legend that would not be undone. The Hound, The Falcon. Green Knights and Banshees. All that they had been dissolved in the first rays of a sunrise creeping agains the twilight. Lord of All the Celts, bringing of justice and peace. The Brooch glinted on his chest where it should be. "Always n' for'er. Tha' is how legends are, Ahdam. Now..n' fore'er."
Kendrew: Kendrew and the more sensible lot watched, and from his lips would be the shout of "LONG LIVE MO'R TRIATH! LORD OF THE CELTS! "
Marcos: But wait... what was this? How many hours had it been? Where was he? Who was with him? And who the hell had him like this?! The Spaniard would come to, his head throbbing and aching. He could feel a dampness in his hair and down along his neck. His hands were bound, his ankles tied tight and the only thing he could feel was the cold that radiated from the damp wall he was leaning against. "PERMITAME IR!" (LET ME GO) I swear to whoever is out there, if I get free.. I will rip out your heart you bastards!" He yelled as he began to struggle with the ropes around his wrists behind his back. Oh the man was pissed. Someone or a few someones had knocked him over the head on his way back, draped it with a cloth bag of sorts and tied him up. He after all had been the one who was sent to inform several of Skye's leading men by order of General Maahes. Now he was locked away in some room, yelling to get anyone’s attention, friend or foe and find out just what the hell was going on.
Alendral: Alen smiled, ear to ear at the jubilant Kendrew, eyebrows raised, as if the old tension between the two never existed, unable to resist giving the man a playful slap on the back as he tore off to do what he did best. "Best plan I've heard in a while, now get goin'!" and that he would slip away--doing what he did best.. For he might have 'saved the day' as it were, in one respect, but there was other business to tend to. Gristly work, by all accounts--how the Clan had been undermined in the first place. So it was the Illusionist slipped away as the triumph rose through the ranks... and in the thrill of victory, did the cancer reveal itself. The servants that had laid the foundation for this treachery were grown greatly concerned--a knot of them, and their supposed ringleader had huddled together to discuss how to best avoid being hung for this... but their judgment had sealed. Whispering frantically, the Illusionist emerged from shadow to interrupt them, lowering his gaze viciously upon the one that they deferred to--and slid behind as he approached. "Oh... oh I'm afraid there'll be no trial or ceremony for you. There's entirely too much to tend to for that.. 'fraid my judgment will have to suffice. " the figure withdrew a slender knife from his sleeve and smiled--a sick, vicious smile that revealed, however briefly, a bit of the man behind the mask. The first servant, seeing an opportunity to turn this thing around, cried out, meaning to call the guards on a 'traitor'--but the cry cut off abruptly, knife in the throat. The other two accomplices, faced with such violence, found their fear taking away all sense and turned, wailing--but it was only for another instant. The Illusionist surged forward again, withdrawing stiletto from it's harness. One thrust, two, delicate strikes that dropped them down near soundlessly... their leader? he was so terrified by the speed and brutality that he had huddled against the wall, losing all sense and just struggling to put as much space between the two. Cruelly, the man's eyes narrowed. "Oh relax lad. I'm not killing you. Somebody hired you, somebody saw fit to orchestrate this little strife and disorder... and somebody stands to benefit from all this. Trouble is, I'm not sure who.." the Servant stared, goggle-eyed and confused as the Illusionist drew near, a grim, reaper's smile etched onto the fine-boned face. "...So it's going to take much, much longer for you to die..."
Liliana: A shake of head, Roric and Kylie coming to stand by Liliana, as she watched the approach of Kaori. "I will not go anywhere. Not until they find Kendrew. You can take the chi-" Words were cut off by the sudden change in Bess, words caught from a voice only heard briefly in Aberdeen, and then she observed the exchange between Adam and Bess. It was most endearing. Lifting Kylie into her arms as the child reached arms up, she murmured, "It's over now." A bit for herself, but mostly to ease the children. Though for her- it wasn't. Chocolate eyes searched needily for sight or sound of her husband.
Marcos: Marcos was breathing heavily now, jerking his head this way and that way, to see if maybe, just maybe the motion would have the sack over his head be flung off. However, it wasn't working and he'd continued his curses in Spanish as his temper continued to boil. He hated this, hated being blind to whatever and whoever was responsible for having him here. Again, he'd call out. Turning and shifting, kicking a black booted foot against something nearby. It was wooden, and whatever it was fell over making a quite a bit of noise. Hopefully enough to draw someone’s attention. He could hear people, hear cheers, and he could hear mumbled voices.
Rosalind: Rosalind placed Aldric with one of the Campbell women. There was no time to explain who the child was, nor was she willing to just now. Rosalind was running on nothing, and the effects of the drugs placed in her wine had left her hazy and unfocused. Or perhaps it was the events of the past twenty-four hours. Rosalind chose not to think about it. There would be time later to count her wins and losses. In the moment she straightened up, she seemed the most approachable and reasonable person in the room, even with the flamberge held in her left hand, right hand so bandaged it was unusable for the moment. But, like so many in this room that doubled as the infirmary, she was not particularly out of place. A foul-mouthed man stomped up to her and informed her that a certain Spanish captain was being held hostage in a second-floor room. Since she only knew one Spanish captain, and she owed him a tremendous favor, Rosalind went to find Kaori, wherever the woman had gone, and several guards to keep them company. Once she found the lady, she led the way back upstairs, where it just so happened, a loud crash alerted them to where Marcos was. Timing was everything today, and she smiled to Kaori as the guards went to pry the door open.
Kaori: Kaori was a bit at a loss when Rosalind found her. Whose baby was that she had seen her holding? Did Liliana find Kendrew? Where had Aegraine gotten off to? Where the Hell did Bess find an axe? Was Adam ruling everything? And when did she put a stick in her hair? She had decided following Rosalind for whatever reason was better than standing around in dizzy confusion, so she had. But she sobered quickly when she realized where they were and why they were there. "Ai, mierda," she muttered, useful little word she had picked up in Espana. As the door was pried open Kaori rushed past the men, literally shoving one out of her way (not bad for a girl that weighed half what he did) and yelled, "Marcos!" to try to stop him thrashing about. She leaned over and touched his leg, then his shoulder as if to tell him who was there, and a moment later she was pulling the bag from off his head, smiling at him tearfully and saying, "My love, all the excitement was out there." His injuries didn't look to grievous so why not try to make light of them? Oh, he was going to be in a right fury, but she was at least happy he was well. She gave him a quick kiss before starting to work on his bindings.
Marcos: He had paused a few times in order to wait and listen, to see if his efforts had paid off just yet. Moments it had been but it seemed like forever. Finally.. he could here the voices of women and men, they were much closer. Then the opening of a door. His head was held up high, he turned an ear to it and and just when he had started to try and work that sack off his head. He heard their voices. It was Kaori! Rosalind? Was she here too? Then he felt a hand to his leg, his shoulder, and then the sack was removed. "Mi amor!" He replied. His injuries weren't at all that terrible, just a split in his scalp and a lumpy head now.. Along with a huge headache of course. "Ay carumba..." he murmured as she worked his bindings free. Soon enough, the Spaniard was up to his feet and with the others with him, they would join the rest of those outside the walls. His fingers laced with those of his beloved and a friendly arm around the Senora Rosalind.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 19, 2009 11:58:03 GMT -6
Reborn (before the battle)[/center][/size] Maahes: "Rosalind.." Maahes struggled with her name, too complex for his limited vocabulary. "Where is your husband? Many of the clans leaders have been kidnapped..we feared you have." The structure of a clan confused him, but if her husband fell, would she take his place? "The Lamont..." He stilled catching the eyes of the son in her arms, the boy's eyes a bewitching blue; the blondest of blond--a beautiful child. "Is he yours?" The General was a puddle for children, and even though the world around them was falling apart; life stood still for only a moment as Skye's future weighed heavily in the balance. Reaching out his hand he touched the boy's gently, but his eyes returned to the mother; they both looked so tired. "We should get you out of this air." Meaning of course the two of them, fresh air would do them all well. Rosalind: It was hard for her eyes to harden. She tried, for a moment, to steel herself. But he gave her no time, and so much of the world felt so unreal. "He was ... taken." She, of course, knew nothing about the kidnappings until Maahes conveniently gave her the material for the lie. But looking around, she saw a number of notable absences. MacKinnon. Kendrew. Menzies. She hugged her son again, not to pull him away from Maahes, but to reassure herself that he was here, real, warm. Safe. It was only out in the fresh air that she knew the lie had been a fortunate one if there had been anyone listening. When they were alone, she began clarifying. "My husband is dead. If his men discover he is dead, and not kidnapped, they will fall apart. You can tell them after.... What has happened?" Aldric, blessedly, had gone from whimpering tears to sleep. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, curled his head against her shoulder, and was not bothered in the least by the sounds around him. Maahes: In all the force in the world there was not another as harsh as this one. Maahes was a man even the mountains would bow for, and never would his word be questioned. The hand that touched her child would raise to her chin, gently forcing her head back so that the light would reflect against her skin and prove that the bruise was real and not an illusion. Letting her chin go his hand fell to his side, and amber orbs burned against her own. "Then he deserved everything that God has sent his way. If you wish it I will remove his head, and only bury his body. Men cannot get into heaven without them." An Arabic custom no doubt. Turning then he would point towards the exit, "All of Important positions in the clans have been stolen. Kendrew..Your husband. It was an attack, the reason has yet to be discovered. So you will get air, get to safety and leave this castle." Rosalind: His care seemed incongruous with how he had treated Peregrine. She tried not to scowl at him, but it broke through the numbing fog. Her anger flashed in her eyes, and though it was good to feel something, it was an easy emotion. It was easy to cling onto anger, rather that confront everything else that had happened this night. "You change your mind so easily. Was it not just yesterday that your men put Peregrine in jail for, among other things, adultery with me? I am innocent, General. And though I would not say Perry is innocent, he is at least," she leveled a glare at him over her son's head, "innocent of that much. He saved my life tonight. Please, be merciful." Where was she to go? The castle was surrounded. The clans waited for word from within, and the trapped party guests waited to hear why they were imprisoned in a crumbling keep. The acrid smell of burning pitch reached her nose and she sneezed. "Fearghus is gone. What care I if he sees heaven or not? He is gone. But," she smiled wanly. "You may do as you like." Maahes: He had started for the door, and a better part of him would have remained in that direction, but Maahes was not one to walk away..from anything. "He saved your life to get something in return. Do not think him a noble man. He will collect his debt one day. Ask for your child, to feed it to the wolves." Turning then to face her he would raise his hand to point..to argue back but would be quickly pulled away as there were more important issues at hand. Peregrine: Slipping back into the cracks in the broken windows he hit the ground with a soft thud, "Here.." Handing Rosalind a small bag he had gone to her rooms and collected her a change as well as her son. "The castle is in lock down," He as well had many skin sacks of water and started to pass them around to the people here. "You are safe here..do not worry." He winked to one woman who was shaken to the core clinging to her sister. Returning back to Rosalind he would look over her shoulder in search of her hero. Opening the small pouch at his hip he would pull out a small bound wrapping and take a seat on a the rubble motioning for her to do the same, "Give me your hand." Placing one of the pins between his lips he tore the edge to soak in the cool water. Rosalind: "He was noble today. In a lifetime of noble men choosing to do the ignoble thing, I would choose him." It was not Maahes's fault that any of this had happened. It was Fearghus's. Though stinging words came to her lips, she did not speak them. She let Maahes leave, and hoped she would not speak of this with him again. For she had a feeling they would never come to an agreement -- after all, his judge of character had led to a friendship with Fearghus. She turned away and found Peregrine. It was a genuine smile on her face, even through the exhaustion and pain. If her arms were not full with Aldric, she would have hugged the gypsy. "Pere -- how am I to thank you for this? It would never be enough." She grabbed the bag he had brought for her, and made a space for Aldric to rest upon, the satchel serving as his pillow. She kept her free hand resting on her son's shoulder, and extended her burned palm to him. Peregrine: "No need to thank me, just doin' my job. Besides," His entire frame shook, as another draw was taken from the rolled cloves and the wrap was practically drawn in with a single breath. "You just smiled.." The exhale was more dramatic as the smoke left his lungs, and the tip would be tossed away--carelessly. Hey? What could else could happen to a burning castle? "The First real smile I've seen." The motions soothed him, ran cold his heated blood, and relaxed a heart that beat out of his chest. No he feared not of the fight, having killed bigger men in his sleep, but the life this Fearghus held in his grasp when he held Rosalind was enough to shake his core. A drumming heart beat wildly below his chest as now he sat there waiting for her hand. "He would have killed you." For this he was certain, as he practically could taste the man's evil desire on the tip of his own. "The look..how he looked at you." Spoken quietly as he returned to that moment in thought, but closed his eyes to shake away the image before adjusting himself to better work on her hand. He would not catch her eye, concentrating upon the hand before him--cool water would drown out the burn, never cold; only cool. Thankful for her wound, no matter how sick that would sound it gave him something to concentrate on, something to change the direction of his mind. "Anyway..I'm sure you'll have many reasons to smile now, right?" Starting the wind of her dressing over her hand he did his best to keep his eyes away from her, betraying eyes that were his own, spoke well of the mixed pallet of an artists perfection that made up his feelings. Hot; cold, red; blue every yin to it's yang this one was a puzzle, not worth the end result. One look from mother to child would have him smile lightly before his head would fall forward, blond strands brushing over the bridge of his nose as he slowly worked the wrap between her fingers. " Son-of-a-bytch." Rosalind: He was not just doing his job, and he well knew it. But they all told lies, little lies, to make it through the day. She very diplomatically did not contradict him, and sat as still as she could as he dressed her hand. Her fingers twitched when fabric came to rest against blistered skin. It would heal without scarring, and for that, she was grateful. She could abide some temporary pain, knowing it would soon end. He spoke, and she could not bring herself to reply. Partly due to the residual poison in her blood, but mostly due to the trauma she had just survived, she felt as if she were swimming in water, and had all the time in the world to make her way to the surface. She looked around where they were seated. So many were oblivious to this scene, of the pirate-cum-hero dressing the lady's hand, living in their own world of chaos that did not apply to her just yet. It was his curse that broke through the haze and drew her eyes back down to him. Though the distance between them seemed impossible to cross, she slowly returned, and nodded. "He tried." He spun the gauze around her hand once more. She felt a ghost flame flicker against her palm, but he held her hand steady. But he failed. And now he is dead. Rosalind slid down from her seat until she was level with him. He wouldn't look at her, and she wasn't certain why. So she made it impossible for him to avoid her, as she searched out his face for a reason why. "Forget him," she said at last. "It gives him power." Peregrine: "Power that I would gladly rip from his chest again, and that makes me the monster." Lifting his gaze from her hand he met her eyes, and there would be his proof.. There for the entire world to see was his guilt, but no..it was not for the man's death. "What a path I have strung you down, heartache..lies. When I could have simply killed him the first time he came to me." Returning his attention to her hand, the Pirate would tie off the bandage. With that he would let it fall gently against her knee, and touch lightly the wrist that was exposed before returning his own hand to fold with his other. The world was in chaos around them, as the battle was starting and he knew his time was short, but one more matter remained dangerously close; escaping his lips like a sigh as all the words seem to come out at once, "Know that my intentions never changed after I met you. From the moment I found your attention know all of me changed." He tried to keep his excuses short, as he knew there was nothing he could say or do to make up the heartache he caused her, but did she know how much she had actually changed him? "Forgive me...I was careless and walking blind, and never meant to hurt you." Rosalind: "No, it does not. It makes you human." But she listened to him, truly listened, letting each word sink in. They resonated in her heart, despite the drug slowly easing from her body. There was little need for the caution that had defined every action of the past five years of her life. There was a softness in her expression that had not existed before. Though she was the same Rosalind, the brittleness was gone. But what had changed in him? What was this guilt in his heart, that caused him to battle with his soul? He had been a hero today. No, not like a storybook, not like one of the romances she read to the ladies of court from the imported French books, but a hero nonetheless. "So do our mistakes. God knows I have made many." She sighed at his apology. It seemed the world beyond them did not exist for her. She did not care about impending battle. The world did not usually stop for wishing it would, though. "Why do I believe you? I had one reason to doubt you when you have given me so many to trust you instead. You do not owe me an apology." He had believed in her. He had not let her walk away and continue the fight on her own, when she was so obviously losing. He had waved aside her protestations that she could save herself, if only she survived long enough to make that happen. Everything he had done, though it did not go according to her plan, had been for the survival of Rosalind and her son. She closed her eyes briefly and opened them. Heavens, she was exhausted! "I forgive you, Peregrine, but only if you now put this behind you. Do not look back, only forward. I must do this. I have spent too long worrying over my mistakes and wrong turns. I plan on burying all of those mistakes when they recover Fearghus's body from the field after the battle." Peregrine: For a moment he was quiet, eye vs. eye. His honesty very real as the truth surfaced, but what truth? All of his life he took pride in living his life by the wayside. Walking blind upon the land, he loved the adventure until like any addiction it had consumed him. Yet now as the world burned around them, he lived in the moment. She was so tired, and for that he hurt for her. How long had he wanted her only to smile, only to be given it--but to now want her to rest; be at peace? His heart ached to touch her, to hug her, to hold her, and in that embrace let her know that when the sun rose in the morning she would have her new life--a better life, a life she could live now in peace without fear. A life he knew very well, he could never give her. Let her have her hero, her son's father. From what he could tell this Colban was a good man, a honest man. "One thing you will learn of me, Belle." He would grin then pulling up the black sleeves of his tunic and adjusting the straps of the wrist protectors any archer would be thankful for. "Is that I never look back." A ruffle to the child's hair who slept so exhausted against his mother would empty his hand as he stood; slinging his equipment over one shoulder. "Get him somewhere safe, and sleep?" With her still seated he touched her chin lightly lifting to brush his thumb against her cheek before he let his hand fall. "Excuse me, Your Highness, but this is the fun part, no?" Turning then he would make his way back out into the halls to join the fight.[/font]
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Mar 19, 2009 12:39:21 GMT -6
The battle had long since finished, and the court returned where they preferred -- the safety of Griffin Castle, and the normalcy of routine. Though the castle was now short a good many servants, relief was palpable among the remaining staff.
They did not have to wait long for the news of her husband's death. The men of Lamont had recovered Fearghus's body among so many others on the field surrounding MacRuari Keep. This was not the first time she had seen her husband's body returned to her upon a shield, and she would have lied to say the sight of him did not bring back painful memories. He did, for all his sins, look very like his brother. Five years ago, she ran to his body as it was carried within the keep of Inveryne and demanded life from the cold corpse. Whatever madness had possessed her then was gone now, replaced with a feeling without a name, but reminded her very much of the first mellow breeze at the end of a long winter.
The men did not speak of Fearghus's curious wounds, but mentioned his body would remain in chapel until burial the following day. Rosalind, once again, donned the dark clothes of deep mourning, bade her household do likewise, and began sending letters to the sept chieftains of Lamont informing them of Fearghus's fall in battle.
She was polite and diplomatic, careful in her phrasing, and to those unfamiliar with the plight of Lady Inveryne, she was the paragon of virtue, even in grief. But to so many others, though the change was subtle, it was there. She could not feign change overnight. She would not awaken a new woman. But there was a genuine note to her expressions, a lack of brittleness to hard edges.
At the funeral, she silently watched the men of Lamont lower their tanist into the grave. There were so many other funerals to come in the next several weeks as bodies were identified and brought back from the battlefield, but Fearghus's was one of the first, and attendance at his graveside was limited to the clan alone. He had been popular until the end, a charismatic figure who had gathered his clan from dust and shaped them into a powerful force. Even Rosalind admired him for doing what she could not. Yet she understandably hated him for everything he had done to her, for everything he might have done to Aldric, for the destruction of Peregrine's livelihood, and for dealing with so many unknown devils. Rosalind had survived the dark night, and what remained of it found a sheltered home in her soul, to remind her of the strength she had always possessed to see her way home again. She was glad to throw the first handful of dirt onto his simple pine coffin, even if his death meant new troubles for Clan Lamont. Even if many would grieve for him, when she felt like dancing.
When she returned, she ordered the maids to remove Fearghus's belongings. They were not privy to her life with the laird, but they had seen the aftermath while dressing the lady. Since Fearghus's arrival, scarcely a day went by without spying a new bruise on the pale skin of the lady. If some assumed Rosalind purged her household of his presence because she could not bear her grief, her maids were not among that minority. She had the sheets burned and the curtains replaced, opened the windows to the chilly, early spring air, and ordered the floors and walls scrubbed. She had items of her past that had been placed in storage returned to her apartments, and there they waited eagerly in crates to be restored to their rightful places.
Rosalind aired other aspects of her life, too -- first, in treating her detractors with a dose of honest truth, with sworn statements from several of the clansmen who had been in attendance of her wedding. Though abuse was tolerated in these times and even condoned, women retained the right to refuse a marriage, particularly to such a close degree of family. The priest who had overseen the wedding had not much longer to live, and would disappear well before Fearghus was laid to rest. He would not hide in his church. He would not vanish into the anonymity of clerical robes. Too long had she favored delicacy over force. Rosalind had no need for courtly manners in affairs that were far from noble. Finally setting to rights what had been so grotesquely wrong felt good. Justice was the first exercise in her authority.
Aldric posed only a temporary problem for the usually unflappable Rosalind. She must now admit to Scotland that she had a love child with a Campbell, but that the child would be the future Lamont tanist. For a woman who had denied any wrongdoing in her first lord's betrayal, she knew it was damningly suspicious to admit an actual indiscretion. Perhaps she was vain after all, but who preferred to be named a whore? She admitted as much to the boy's father as they broke their fast in private, and Colban merely smiled. "Tell them I was a cad and refused to marry ye, lass."
They both laughed. "I would not dream of telling such a flagrant falsehood. But you will be there, when I introduce him to his clan, yes?"
"I would be nowhere else, Rosie."
In the coming days, Rosalind's friends were the first to accept the news of Aldric's existance. The court of Skye saw little trouble in acknowledging the boy, and Rosalind owed that entirely to Bess's poker face. The lady had known of Aldric and Rosalind's circumstances for several months, and though she had not approved of Rosalind's methods at the time, had been far more graceful and forgiving than Rosalind deserved. With such guiding lights, it almost seemed as if Rosalind had always had a son named Aldric, and Fearghus had always been a rotten husband. History was written by the victors, though living memory recalled a different reception to Fearghus Lamont.
Rosalind gathered the men of Lamont and told her story in the simplest terms she could without being insulting.
"Domhnall and I governed this clan side by side," she concluded, the only one standing at the large table hosting Aldric's kinsmen. The sunlight shone through the windows in broad shafts of yellow light, little motes of dust sparkling from behind the Lady Inveryne. She wore the dark clothes of deep mourning, even her wimple was a deep shade of blue that neared black, and barely an inch of flesh was exposed that did not belong to her neck or the oval of her face. For a month, and no more, would she publically mourn. He deserved barely the month, though her diplomatic mind knew that even an abuser would find his supporters among these men. Gone was the powder and soft paints that had adorned her features for the ceilidh; gone were the flowers in her hair and the festive braids. They would return when spring officially arrived. Her wardrobe was already a focus of her ladies' work. What was left now was the bare reality of Rosalind Avalle -- a woman of strength, courage, faith, and even hope. A woman who had forged treaties with blood enemies, who had gone to battle in her husband's armor, who had served kings, who had been mother, wife, and daughter. A woman who was now, for all intents and purposes, the only unifying force left to the men of Lamont.
"For ten years, all that we did was to the benefit of Lamont, and you rewarded him for his service by making him laird. Aldric is not his son, but he is mine. You have made me a Lamont, and given me the authority to act as your lady. May wise heads prevail and return to me the authority to govern in the stead of my son, until he reaches his majority and may guide you himself into a future of peace. I cannot give you the vengeance you desire against the Campbells. I cannot condone eradicating them from this earth as Fearghus desired. But I can assure you that you will never see such a day as Inveryne's fall repeat itself. That you can return to your fields and your flocks, raise your children in peace, and live to see prosperity reign -- this is what I swear to you shall happen, if you have the courage to tread in my steps."
She held out her hand for Colban to rise. He did so slowly, causing the men around the table to grumble suspiciously. "This is a man you grew up with. Duncan, you accompanied this man as far as Dalmatia in his journey to the Holy Land. He stayed at your bedside for all those weeks you were with fever, and he would have accompanied you on the ship all the way back to Scotland, because he loved you like a brother. Will you name him your enemy now? He is Aldric's father. He was my childhood friend, Arthur Campbell's brother, foster-brother to Domhnall, who trusted him with all that was of value to him. He is your sword-brother, Colm. He is yours, too, Tearlach. You fought at his side at Bannockburn. He was as outraged as you all were when the Bruce chose not to recognize our loyalty, and allowed the Campbells to overrun our lands. I cannot give you retribution, but I can give you peace with the Campbells, and an end to a feud that has killed more of us since Bannockburn than the wars themselves. My late husband, God rest his soul, gave you promises of glory. But that is not the glory I offer you now. I give you the glory of the generations. Put aside your righteous anger. We were wronged, but we will not be the wrong-doers. For if you destroy Campbell, you destroy this man and men like him."
The men looked down, some contrite behind thick beards, others too ashamed to meet the Lady Inveryne's eyes. She had once been a greatly respected figure in Argyll. They each would have challenged and dueled to the death had they tolerated any of the rumors that were now so commonplace about the woman. There would have been blood had any dared to call the Lady Inveryne a Jezebel, whore, or Judas. Some at this table had repeated those rumors. Some had joined in the laughter. None had challenged the stories on the lady's behalf. It was easier to accept rage than defeat. Yet she was not demanding apologies. She did not wish retribution on her own kinsmen. She wanted the simple promise of fealty to mother and son, of a commitment to peace.
Tearlach was the first to rise, followed by his cousin Murtagh. Their chairs squealed against the stone as they moved back. The two men approached Rosalind, causing Colban to tense ever so slightly in anticipation. They simultaneously took a knee before her with heads bowed. Tearlach remembered. He remembered when an English soldier had knocked him from his horse, and when he fell, his sword tumbled out of reach. Colban had been but a boy in that battle, but man enough to save his comrade. He remembered the stories Murtagh told about the Lady Inveryne and her first husband, of the feasts they would put on, of how she invited all the cottars to come and give grievance, how she listened to each one and doled out justice like any man. She was not perfect, but she was close enough in Murtagh's heart to be the only logical choice as tanist.
"Colban, your sword," Rosalind said calmly.
He drew his sword, which to a smaller man, would resemble nothing less than a claymore. But Colban, being of such uncommmon size, had a greater reach than most men, and could handle the weight of the blade like a broadsword. Anything smaller would look ridiculously like a dagger in his large hands. He gave it to Rosalind only after a bit of hesitation. She only had one arm in which to support the weight of the sword, with her damaged hand still heavily bound in gauze and covered by a make-shift leather glove. She surprised him again by not only holding the blade in one hand, but in showing no sign of fatigue as she shifted it so the point rested on the ground, and the haft and tang resembling the cross of Christ, on which the oath would be taken. She held the blade as steady as she held her voice. No man could have done better.
"I do by God give my fealty to Aldric mac Colban, and in his stead, Rosalind Lamont."
"This I so swear," Rosalind prompted softly.
The two men smiled slightly. "This I so swear," they returned. Rosalind held the grip as they rose slightly upon knees to kiss the center of the haft.
"Arise," she told them. She was undemanding in her survey of the table. Her eyes held no judgment. Those who would come and bind themselves to Aldric would do so without coercion. Those who would reject a Campbell bastard as their laird were allowed to wait, and discern for themselves how much pull the Lady Inveryne still maintained over her men. Another chair scratched across the stone flagging, and then another. The oaths were taken and a scribe wrote each name down in the far corner of the room at Colban's naming.
Until at last, only two men remained seated, and the majority had been declared. The men looked at one another, then to the nine men standing now behind Rosalind, and stood slowly. "For the unity of our clan, we do so swear," one said tersely. Rosalind stilled Colban with a look. Allow them to be insolent for five more minutes, she thought. She was asking a great deal of them all, her men, her family, Aldric's one-day advisers in all things great and small. Allow them to come upon their own terms, as honest and not cowed men.
"I do so swear," the last man said softly, kissing the sword, and rising to join his brethren. Rosalind held the sword for Colban to take once again.
"Know that any man who dares cross me will be banished from this land and all his holdings forfeit to me. Any man who dares sell me in marriage or otherwise act as my guardian shall be put to instant and painful death. I am quite finished with being entered into contracts not of my will, and which may violate the trust you have put in my son as your future tanist. Any who dare make war without my consent, place tolls upon roads to Campbell lands, or otherwise make action as Laird of Lamont against our neighbors will be blinded and exiled. Inform your men that reiving will not be tolerated, for though it is a custom among these hills, I will not have us enter war over a few scrawny kine. Though I be a woman, I act in my son's stead, and I shall not be soft on transgressors or oath-breakers. We will renew our vows to the Mo'r Triath when he calls for them, and each of you are required to fast, to pray, and to enter his presence with clean souls and consciences free of deceit. Those who do not clearly and firmly state their allegiance are no kin of mine."
"Aye," the men chorused. They were silent not out of anger, but out of amazement. Many of them had known Rosalind when she arrived at Domhnall's side, he a man of advancing years, and she a child of fourteen. Who had known then that the girl would become such an awesome force of independence and grace? Women did not speak of banishment and maiming, of war or taxes. They quickly dismissed Rosalind's sex as any reason to prohibit her from leading the clan. She was the clan.
She always had been, from the moment she set her eyes on Inveryne, and called it home. She was the heart of Lamont, for whom else would defeated men rise again, but under the ideal of Lady Inveryne? She was their spirit, for even in exile, she had gone on living. When Scotland's only unifying force was an ailing king and vicious gossip, she had continued to dream of a place where there was room for both major clans of Argyll. The men gathered around her would never see it, would never feel it, how her heart trembled at the possibility of those dreams becoming reality. She was their lady once again.
Rosalind nodded, smiled slightly, and then curtsied deeply to those gathered. There she remained, head lowered and eyes closed, long enough to convey to them her sincerest gratitude without speaking a single word. The men gathered were momentarily at a loss as to what to do, but perhaps even their old, ritual-loving Catholic souls understood the gesture for what it was.
Finally, she rose. With a nod to Colban, she left at his side to deliver the news of progress to the Griffin court.
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Post by Dame Kaelyn Urquhart-Raven on Mar 22, 2009 14:19:41 GMT -6
In a camp to the far north of Turas Lan Kae and those with her keep a vigil on the borders and the English. War... how she was coming to hate the word, but she would do her duty and not think about the personal war that raged within her mind and heart.
Pagan and Phantom keep a close watch on her and were a constant support to her as well. She walked through the camp towards the black tent where she slept... or rather where she went to be alone. She stopped and looked at the four banners that flew in the cold winter breeze...one green with a golden griffin for the house of Aberdeen, one white with the outline of a hound in black and trimmed in gold Bess's personal standard, one black with a golden Raven in flight Darius's standard, and finally her own black with a white wolf's head baying at the moon. Pride filled her as tears filled her eyes as she starred at them, knowing she would do all in her power to keep them flying and keep the English from entering Scotland from these borders.
She then shook her head and walked into the tent, her mind reeling on many thoughts.... most involving her children and her husband. Had there been any more news from Kerrigan about the search? Were her children missing her as she missed them? How had more than a year gone by since they came into this world? She threw her head back and screamed loudly! " Arrrrggggggghhhhhh"
All movement stopped within the camp as all there listened to the heart wrenching sound of their Lady's cry... it was pain filled many flinched unable to understand the grief and agony that filled her.
Phantom rose to go to her and was stopped by Pagan's hand on his shoulder " Nay my brother... let her have this time for in the morn we ride to war... we could lose her to more than just an English blade. I will go you see the men are ready." his words were softly spoken so only Phantom could hear them he nodded and went about the task of reading the men.
Pagan looked as if he had been struck with a blade.. he hated that she was pained so. He had never seen her this way and knew not what he would see when he entered her tent, but he would die protecting her... in anyway.
" M'Lady...?" he called softly before entering reaching out he pushed the flap open before her bidding him to enter. Concern laced his voice and perhaps a bit of fear as well.... his hazel eyes scanned the tent and then he saw her kneeling on the ground her head in her hands.
He strode over to her quickly " Lady I know not what to say to ease your sorrow or make it better. I can only say I am here if ye need me." his deep baritone voice was soft as if speaking to a child as he laid a large hand on her shoulder.
She raised her face to look at him she was pale and her sorrow great but she tried to hide it " Pagan... I am sorry... war is here and I fight one within me as well...." her voice soft and thickly laced with emotion. She stood slowly and looked at him " I will be myself come the morn when we fight.... oh and Pagan... thank you." she gave him a soft smile as she moved toward her bed. They were more friends than Knight and leader for they had spent more time together than apart... except for her and Darius.
" I will sit here until you fall asleep if ye wish?" he asked pulling a chair closer to the fire. " Aye I would like that." she said and lay down. Pagan smiled at her one a friend gave to another and sat in the chair where he would keep vigil... as she had done for him long ago. [/size][/color][/font]
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Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on Mar 24, 2009 10:57:20 GMT -6
The War Machine In Gear As spring began to develop, flowers soon began to grow, trees began to return to its former color… Rain drenched the ground. The trails of men and machine marked the fields and roads in every Gaelic nation.
War had been in progress for months… battles fought, towns destroyed, men died… Skye’s spirits and supplies had run low, but with the blockade broken, resupply had filled men’s bellies and lifted their spirits. Still the war machine continued to grind at Skye’s sinews.
Maubrey sat in his chair in his London office, the ale staining his breath… Since the destruction of his fleet at the Battle of Raasay, Lord William fumed at the Irish turning in favor of Skye, leaving his flank open to vulnerability… He had lost three-fourths of his ships and the blockade was of no use now; hence making his support of the English King less favorable. Since that fateful day, Lord William’s orders to bolster the ground invasion didn’t set well with his generals, but that like or dislike was no consequence to him. The death of the Aberdeens and submissiveness of Skye was !!
Edinburgh was fortified with Scot soldiers from all over the land. The cavalry had been placed in reserve and enhanced with Skye officers from Eohmark and Turas Lan. Glasgow was still under English control, but Scotsmen from the area had formed a unified resistance, making life there a bit unbearable. The English-Scot border was virtually in flames, as the Borderers burning everything useable by the English. It had not been the first time; nor the last they would burn themselves out to keep the English at bay.
If someone was to look at a position map, they would see Scotland divided into two parts… the shores of South Scotland, and inland for 50 miles belonged to Scot control… the interior, from the Highlands down deep into England, was under English control, but that was waning with every passing day. Skye’s borders were secure, with the exception of the low isthmus area between Broadford and Kilbride. Those two ports, despite a concentrated effort of troops had been under English control. The war machine of Maubrey and the English King had control of that area and was building up forces there, everyday. Adam’s concern was they were posing themselves for a thrust into Skye’s heartland, and on to the capital of Turas Lan.
Ground forces from France, Castile, Burgundy, and the Germanic Empire, supported by ships from Portugal and Norway were landing at various Skye ports around the Isle. The Isle of Mann was already back under Skye’s control… and Ireland was in a fight for her life. War there was bloody and merciless, and after years of English control, the Irish thought they had nothing to lose… but FREEDOM.
Adam had been dividing his time between Turas Lan and Edinburgh, ensuring the alliance accords were in place and that his Army was positioned to push the English back to England. The black and gold flag of the Gryphon now flew over the King’s castle beside the blue and white of Scotland.
At times, he would miss his wife and family so much... and begin to wonder why. But as soon as he saw an English, or Maubrey flag... or his own men, or men of Scotland bloodied or dead upon a wagon.... he would remember why.
What was to come in the following days? Would England crumble under Skye pressure… or make a last-stand effort against an equal powerhouse in the region???
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Post by Queen Beathag Aberdeen on Mar 24, 2009 13:13:16 GMT -6
"I will give you safety against the demons by opening my Gates to you. It would seem, that really your gates are my own now, but there lurks something behind them that takes all the color from the bravest men."
Ireland
Jack: What would the Lady Griffin make of that the note that was ferried to her? It had been delivered by courier, a young midshipman from the Fleet, who hand delivered it. Given the message, there was little mystery to who had penned it. The message read: "I would speak with you on an important matter. I shall be accompanied. - Jack." (d)
Beathag:Little fan fare and a name signed 'Jack' gave way to who it was, unless the Duchess had suddenly become a fool during her reign. This was not the case, nor was it ever to be. So she remained in the Great Room a'waiting the Irishman while others were told to return later. How much later? The maids and valets were told that no other business unless it was that of family or the urgency of attack would trump this, on par with either. (d)
Jack:The maids and valets would be left to wonder, mystified, when the Lord-Admiral did in fact arrive -- with his accompaniment. Had the Lady Griffin - or her servants, for that matter? - to have expected the Irishman to be accompanied by his mistress, Maggie? They would be, no doubt, surprise with who accompanied the Lord-Amdiral: a group of men, each dressed in clothing that marked them out as either merchant (or sucessful privateers). The Lord-Admiral spoke them quietly, before informing one of the valets that he had arrived. Like the men who came with him, the Lord-Admiral was dressed in his navy uniform. While his left arm was still in a sling, that sling betrayed some of the reason for this meeting. The sling was made of green cloth, emblazoned by a repeating pattern of silver shamrocks. (D)
Beathag: Accompaniment or literal cavalcade? Beathag had expected him to arrive perhaps one or two strong, but the three and higher number surpassed expectation to make the Lady Griffin arch her brow in astonishment. It seemed as a called council were conveying at the castle at his insistance and the price of her curiosity would be required for admission. Now for the men, were they a'sitting or standing? Did they talk to her directly or merely look as if to prove some piece of story true that a powerful man lived here and his wife was truly on par with him in stature of the physical and government ruling? "Come then, wot be the tidin', Jack? Ye bring half o' the neighborin' ocean with ye must be some tae dae." (d)
Jack:Everyman present, from the Lord-Admiral to accompanying captians, would remain standing until given leave to sit. While they may have been pirates and privateers, they were not heathens or savages. The men that had accomapnied her bonded brother seemed at a loss to do, only bowing when the Irishman lead them to it. That, the fact the men had gone to Jack instead of another member of the Griffin Court, was telling. "Apologies, m'lady...." He rose from his bow, "These men 'ave come to ask a favor o' ye. Allow me ta introduce ye tae...." And he would introduce each man - nearly all captains - and anme the ship they captained. Jack met his bonded sister's eyes, saying, "Iffen ye remember, m'lady, the gentlemen were our allies durin' the Battle of Raamasy Sound...." (d)
Beathag: She bid them sit though it seemed men in anxiousness always stood, favoring the fidget of their boots to stand in for some sort of action until favor was levied. Unto each man she made do to remember his name by the name of his vessel. A mighty name went with the highest man among them. The name of a woman, one who seemed a lover. An ancestral hero, with a devoted native son. "Ah remember. Please, come tae sit." She acknowledged the seats posisitioned in a semi-circle before her own high backed chair, "Sit ye down n' tell me wot the matter is. Ye tae, brother. Wot e'ere it be I would venture it of importance if each man has a favor tae ask o' meh, which thye should feel free tae, heroes of Rassay sound." (d)
Jack:It was not odd that the men should follow the Irishman in their lead, they were well enough used to it. Ater a few moments pause, Jack said, "These 'ere are heroes o' more battles than just Rassay Sound, m'lady. They served m'self an' tha late Ceannfort faithfully durin' our trials in Ulster....." Ah. That already explained much of it. "What these men t'would ask of ye tis..." He paused, before motioning. One after another, in no particular order, the men would speak. Some would describe a mother and child sheltering a house inUlster, some only had the child and extended family. Others had no wives or children, but still worried for those older or younger than themselves. They all asked, however, for the same boon: that their families in Ireland be brought here, to the safety of Skye. (d)
Beathag: "Is tha' sae.." Her respect for them grew double in light of the call they answered to Jack even after the fall of Dunlace. It had happened so long ago now that they could have made their own way in the world, but did not. Loyalty was a thick, bull headed quality in Celtic blood that kept a person bonded to the landscape until they had all but to be pried from the foundation stones of a crumbling house. Man after man spoke of kin that were left on Irish shores and man after man asked that they be brought here to the safety of Skye. For the first time, the thought weighed on her that the Ceanfortt had died in battle for the safety of her people. The parallel between her story and Beathag's was no great distance, save in that Beathag forfeit her blade for the might of the proverbial pen. Mighter than steel, with ink to parchment she saw the spell-binding quality of history writ by the fingers of men who changed the course so that now these men asked Alba's daughter for salvation for the children of Eire. Mo'r Oukselo High Lady ...indeed. Sucking in a discrete amount of air to fill her lungs she gave a nod of head. "O'course, they are all tae come immediately. We are a haven fer any tha' seek it." Ireland was in the fight of its life as the war machine rolled to its near climax. If Turas Lan had been only briefly choked, and Scotland half free, than Ireland was both choked entirely and struggling all over. "Ye will see which o' fleet may accompany ye." The Gold fleet, the war ships, were in repair. Some of the protective black fleet might do it, but perhaps..hmm. "Take some o' the white fleet, from the shippin' lanes, tha' have repaired since the battle fer this venture. They are as heavily armed, n' have a guardian ships sail in discretion sae they are nay spotted. " Not only could they be brought over, but in a move that left some of the captains astonished the lady was offering the fleet's own ships for the Admiral's disposal."Make haste with them, at once, tae Ireland." (d)
Jack: The Lord-Admiral inclined his head, "As m'lady wishes..." When given leave, he rose. This was followed by his fellow captains. Then, one at a time, the Irish captains would offer a bow to the Lady Griffin before departing. The Irishman lingered a while, before he smiled and said, "Thank ye...." (d)
Beathag: "How could e're I say no, Jack." She said in earnest, brow furrowing in the wake of each man's absence until she turned to look at the great hall from the Great Room, where banner's hung until the doors were closed while the maids cleaned inside, preparing for the great exhange ceremony coming. "Ah realize tha' we will be takin' signs n' sigils from further away now, n' as such our reach is e'en further extendin' n' the world will want tae see wot can be done. Ah dun believe in sufferin' Jack. Ah think Eire of all has been strugglin' the hardest.....I read the reports they send Ahdam." (d)
Jack:The question was, had any of those reports found their way toward Jack's desk? There was a nod of his head, before smiling, "Tha Irish'll come out on top... they shall be whippin' tha English... er makin' tha English more Irish than tha Irish....." There was a smile as he went to stand beside the Duchess. He studied the banners that were displayed, before saying, gently, "Iffen ye t'would accept, I shall be givin' ye tha banner tha' flew upon m'flagships an' Dunluce...." Had either noticed that one of theolder veterans had paused, as the Irishmen had gone to depart? He walked back, slightly unsure, before saying, "Beggin' yer pardon, m'lady, dae tha reports say anythin' o'er tha new Governor tha' tha Anglish 'ave put inta place?" (d)
Beathag:"Ye may offer it, Jack, n' glady would Ah see it lifted with the others. Long is our reign's reach n' longer the lineage. Ah only pray tha' it will dae as good now fer this is the stickin place. How close to the end we are." Her voice grew distant as if gazing over the cliff to see what lay at the bottom of the ravine. Unknown to her was the final outcome but Adam had gone on about it for months by way of his dreams, and no one could quell him of it but Eirian. Even then, none would speak of what the seer foretold. To the matters at hand, she shook her head, "Only in tha' he is a righteous bastard o' a man. Think we may 'ave tae see him out o' his fine new esttae." She grinned, in that saying if they had such say, certainly no villian would govern the celts for they grew tired of villiany, tryrany, and vices. "Know ye his name?" (d)
Jack: Both, of course, should have been concerned when the old sea captain looked ten degrees of surprised. Without thinking, he blurted out, "Ya dun knae it?" An amused quirk of Jack's brow brought the man back to where they were. The man cleared his throat, "Apologies, m'lady..... I dae. I just assume tha'..... with tha Lord-Admiral bein' who 'e is an' all.. I figured news already...." He sighed. He looked at Bess and then Jack. It was while looking at Jack, that man, "Aye, m'lady. I dae.... Tha Governor o' Ireland, er sae tha Anglish style 'im, tis Sir Andrew Flynn." Jack blinked, then said, with certainty, "Impossible......." Jack looked to Bess, "Tha's m'father...." (d)
Beathag:"Nay, I dun. Sae if ye've news tae offer out with it! This isn't Ireland lad, n' Ah read scrolls nay minds." Even on parchment recorded first hand news could still miss details of importance, a name, a face, a place were often left out and thus left to supposistion. The man feigned that with Jack's posistion surely it was aware...so then was the man in question aware of Jack? Her concern grew with the utterance of the name Flynn, turning her head to reel at the Admiral. Knocked back, Jack conveyed relation that drew the woman from her chair in a slow way that emphasized every inch of her height, thus each inch of her displeasure. "Sir Flynn? Well, then we need news n' all matter of things on this...sae find me someone tha' has seen the man close up these last pair o' months and Ah want tae know exactly when he was installed! Can ye dae this?" She charged the Captain, and he, given official task, decided he would not fail! For her part she turned to the astonished Admiral for whom all color was leaving his face. "Jack, Jack ye alright?"(d)
Jack: The Irishman was, honestly, not quiet sure. "... I dunnae, m'lady..." He sat down. He took a deep breath, opening his heads. For most Irish boys, their nightmars had been of the Wild Hunt and the other fae of their homeland. For Jack? His nightmare had been a waking one. The walls of the house that he had grown up in had been thin, so even at night he'd been able to hear Andrew beat on Rachel. Jack blinked his eyes and a tear ran down his cheek. There was something heavy in his heart, when he at last spoke, "The fooker.... 'ow can 'e be alive after I marooned 'em on tha' island?" Even twenty years later, Andrew Flynn was still the blackhearted villian of Jack's past. (d)
Beathag: "Jack, ye must beh calm or ye'll make ye heart burst,"How many men and women out of shock and strong emotion had a heart that gave out on them? Still recovering from battle, she put a hand out over his chest to make sure the instrument of his life kept on, as if that action alone would will it to beat. His face was so ashen gray that she called at once for a healer no matter what the man would say in protest, if he could raise one! "Ah dun know, Jack, Ah dun know.." She took on a soothing, soft voice as her arms went about him. Looking to the fire she dared to imagine a man Jack's senior, for he was forty-five! This meant that this man, elder than perhaps even Maubrey, was in the same category of wicked, steeled evil that knew no age. Sir Flynn? The man must have had nary a soul for an Irish that sold himself to the English was damned as far any could foretell. "Jack, look at me aye?" (d)
Jack: As near as the healer could tell, the Irishman was - understandably - in great shock at the news. The remedy for thsi even would be time, but another was found at home: Jack's family. It t'was affirmation that Jack was not the same as his father. As the healer began treating Jack, he would nod quietly. He turned to meet Bess' eyes, to look her in them. He was shocked, aye. But there was something else beginning to grow there: a hatred of his father that would be quenched only his father's blood. Now, however, such an outcome was but the faintest of sparks in other wise surprised eyes. (d)
Beathag: I've seen this before.. the voice of the woman said I've seen this before and it drives men to the end.. The eyes darkening as the call for blood from the Morrigu thundered. If one saw a raven outside it would be no coincidence to children of olden ways that a blood pact with the Goddess would still be made and paid by those whom she favored teach her art of war. What story was this! Still, even if you weren't a heathen wild child, it was easy to know hatred among any thing else. Still, it even his breath and made his shocked gaze steady enough for the healer to say that he was not suffering from a ceasing of his heart, but it had gone too fast for his liking. Have a care, the healer, a man with grey hair in his black said ,"Ye are not a young fellow anymore. Any man with a face like that Mo'r Oukselo deserves a hard drink. Tell him to rest, this war will drive men to their grave long before the battle field." Nodding her head, she immediately sent for aged Irish whiskey that he might draw from his country's own succor as she knelt at his side "Ye frightened the 'ell out o' me. Dun nay look at yer woman tha' way nor ye daughter with such eyes. M'niece must not see such eyes!" She whispered low, shutting her own as she said. "It will be set to right Jack." (d)
Jack: The Irishman was quiet for a long while, listening to the healer talk about him - surely, the healer had tried talking to him ... but Jack hadn't heard - before the healer departed. What would Bess do, when Jack closed his eyes? To have a shudder run through him. It was not a sign of a medicial condition, for there had been some sound in his throat. Something that sounded like a sob. When the Irishman opened his eyes, he looked at Bess with new eyes. These eyes, while Jack's, didn't seem to belong to the man and station that Jack had become. There was something to these eyes. Something young, something vunerable. These were the eyes of a young Jack. One would had nestled into the arms of Lady Ciera, his true mother, who had comforted him those nighs when his father was on a tear. The eyes that needed to be comforted, that needed soothing. There was a bit of hope at her words. "Dae ye truly mean such a thin'?" But there was almost something heart wretching in those younger eyes: the hope was tainted... jaded... Many times before, had Lady Ciera or Rachel made the promise that everything be alright. It wasn't until Jack had gotten near two decades on the earth, that he was able to make things better on his own. Or so he had thought, until now. (d)
Beathag:"Aye, we will. We will! Twill be made better n' twill nay rise up after the end." Astonishment! Eyes of murder went now to the youth within who never had a chance to be appeased. A man's eyes could change with the tide, and none so true was those on oceans. What would he have done, had any other seen him this way? What would have had said to swallow up what made his heart stop, his body crippled? "Ye rest now, aye. N' the Griffin will set tae right wot could n'er be done before. The Griffin gaes tae Eire, n' she will be free again.....n' you, Jack Flynn, and you." She thought of her true half-brother, and her other, Caldean and Maahes Then came the thoughts to men like Kendrew who were older, and to the dead Jonas, once a friend. Things such as this could cripple a man at any age, had she not seen it? So sick with words that could not be said Eamonn nearly died. Kendrew had been beaten in battle but was close to surrendering as the world changed around him, and Maahes, Caldean? What of the others and by Gods what if such a thing happened to Adam? (d)
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Post by hotarokaori on Mar 25, 2009 11:05:05 GMT -6
Kaori was quietly working on her calligraphy, alone in the tea room. Since her mother had passed she spent most of her time alone. It had been a year, but at the age of fourteen, Kaori still felt the pain of her loss as if it had happened just the day before. The greatest insult was how even after a woman so wonderful as Hotaro Enori had left the mortal plain, the world continued to turn. Children still laughed and played. Chores still needed to be attended. At thirteen, Kaori had thought if her world would stop turning, the entire world would. At fourteen, Kaori was simply disappointed and jaded.
"Kaori-san?"
It was the sound of a man's voice that had her look up with a surprised expression. She had not expected Sugihara Oroku to approach her for any reason, especially without an attendant present. Her body guard was no one she could really consider a friend. She was only exposed to him when her father took her with him to distant kingdoms, or during festivals. There was little communication and when there was, it was almost always business. "Oroku-san," Kaori said quietly, shifting aside her screen and bowing to him formally.
"<Your father desires your presence.>"
"<Why?>" Kaori hadn't meant to ask the question, but it was so odd her father should desire her at this hour. If Kaori didn't see him for tea, she would most likely not see him until dinner. Her father had only returned one month ago, having been gone for three. Since returning home he had been distant, a lot weighing heavily on his mind. One thing she was certain of, however: He'd not have returned home if revenge hadn't been exacted.
Oroku gave her an odd look at the question, but said, "<I do not question your father when he makes a request.>" Carefully, he added, "<Nor should you.>"
"<Yes, Oroku-san. You are right. He is in the gardens?>" she asked, standing.
"<No. He is in the training room.>"
"<The training room?>" Kaori asked with apparent shock.
"<You heard me correctly, Kaori-san. Make haste, he does not like to be kept waiting.>"
With his words she did hurry, rushing to the room she had only seen on a few occasions. She had no business being in there, so rarely was. When she stepped into the room, she closed the door behind her. Spotting him on the practice mats, she quietly said, "<Father?>"[/b] Kaori was stoic as she walked through the halls of Griffin Castle. She was receiving a few odd looks from the servantry that passed her by, but over the years she had grown used to those. Nevertheless, the people of the castle had grown used to her in her time among Skye, and the oddity amongst Scots still felt a sting as the eyes would quickly turn away, or an errant hand would shield a whispering mouth in case the heathen could also read lips.
She wasn’t really sure what she expected. After the attack on Nathan and her, the word had spread quickly. After all, there were the guards that attended them after the attack, the people sent in to clean up the mess of a body cut open, not to mention the Scholars that would have learned what had happened within their sanctuary. Kaori had expected word to travel quickly, but to see how differently she was being viewed did bother her. There was an occasional admiring glance or smile that seemed to say, “Good show, Lady Scholar!” but those were far more difficult to come by. She couldn’t wait to see how her colleagues would react. Would they be worried for her? Would they be excited? Or would they blame her for inviting murder into their haven? She’d have to wait to see.
Those concerns would have to be secondary. At the moment she was on a mission, and the mission involved a close friend and his suffering. Kaori really felt like a terrible friend. Her father would have been ashamed. While Nathan was in his grief, what had she done? She had comforted him. She had consoled him. She had offered him meaningless words that in the end would do nothing to build his esteem or make him feel better. What good were words and hugs when he was still afraid? When nothing changed? The issue of what to do had hit her so suddenly she had acted without hesitation.
The sword she had commissioned from Bolverk, the master smith, was a beautiful piece of work. Thankfully it wasn’t the only wakizashi in the kingdom. She couldn’t use a European sword, but that was not what she needed. The hidden blade she had used in her attack against the assassin no longer had its sheath, but that was not what she needed. She needed a blade similar to the one she now owned. Until she could have one made for Nathan, her old wakizashi would have to do. He stood staring at the flags against the far wall. His hands were folded behind his back. He looked imposing. He looked like a samurai.
"<Come here, Kaori.>" She started to approach, but before her feet reached the practice mats, he shouted, "Iie!" and made her jump. He glared at her, pointed at the flags and shouted, "<You show respect!>" She started to move to her knees, but his irritated voice said, "<Remain standing, and remove your geta.>"
"<Yes, Father,>" she obeyed, quickly stepping out of her geta and setting them aside. Still standing, she bowed to the flags and approached her father.
"<Now bow to me,>" he said softer, which she did, he returning the gesture. "<Now pick up the sword.>"[/b]
Kaori had her new blade strapped to her hip over her dress. A sword perhaps didn’t belong on the hip of a female courtier, but there it was and there it would remain. She had survived an attack, and if she had to, she would survive another. If it drew more negative attention and the occasional scoff, she could deal with it. She’d rather be scoffed at than dead.
In Kaori’s hands was a long wooden box. It was held before her almost reverently. It was not easy for her to part with this blade, and there were not many reasons she would. For Nathan, however? It was an easy sacrifice to make. She had a new sword now, and she would easily hand the blade over to Nathan for practice until a good sword could be made.
Kaori was hopeful, but also realistic. She didn’t expect to turn Nathan into a master swordsman overnight. She didn’t expect the training to be easy. In truth, she didn’t expect him to accept the gift without some argument. He seemed to have distaste for violence, but what he might not get was that Kaori did, too. Just because she could fight didn’t mean she enjoyed fighting. She did like having a secret talent, and she did like being able to look at courtiers and think to herself, “I can do something you can’t!” but in the end, she had never really wanted to have to use the talent in a life or death situation. She had done so because she had to. And despite Nathan’s distaste, he was also afraid. She only hoped he’d be willing to accept the lesser of two evils and train. Even if he were to die at the hands of an assassin, would it be better to die shielding your eyes from the blade about to cut you down, or standing defending yourself with your last breath? She would do her best to help him see reason.
Once she stood before his door she hesitated. This was a commitment. This was something she would have to believe he could handle. Furthermore, this was something she would have to be patient with, giving him time to adjust to what she wanted from him. A small smile appeared on her lips. If her father could be patient in training her, she could be patient in training Nathan. She was very fond of him, and if nothing else, he was worth every bit of frustration he could throw at her.
The decision final, she lifted her hand and knocked on his door. Kaori felt her body go numb, her eyes widening. She looked down to see a sword too small for her father lying between them. The sword was a wakizashi. "<No, Father, I->" The words were cut off and she had heard the slap before feeling it. It took her a second to realize she was now looking at her shoulder, her face tingling before starting to burn. The hot tears sliding down her cheeks did not sooth her skin at all.
"<That will be the last time you say no to me, Kaori! Pick up the sword!>"
"<I cannot, I->"
She was suddenly yanked forward by her collar, her father's furious eyes boring into her own as he shouted, "<I will strike you for every word of defiance I hear! Now pick it up!>"
Practically choking on her tears, her entire body trembling, she crouched to pick up a tool she had no business ever touching. She felt dirty for handling the sword of a man. Her eyes looked up at her father pleading, beseeching permission to put it down.
"<What is wrong with you?>" he asked, stepping behind her to adjust her hold on the hilt and adjust her stance, tears sliding down her face all the while. Turning to face her he nodded. "<Tomorrow you will not be wearing a kimono. Tomorrow you will come here and change your clothes. Tomorrow you will wear a hakama.>"
"<I don't understand,>" she sobbed. She had never worn a hakama a day in her life. As far as she knew, it was a man's garment.
Staring at her he leaned forward, eventually cupping her face. Quietly, he said, "<If it meant your mother would still be alive today, would you be willing to break every law we live by?>" She couldn't speak so she simply nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks and spilling onto her father's hands. "<You will learn how to use a sword, Kaori, because if they will kill a woman in labor, I can guarantee they will not hesitate to kill you. I will break the law. I will teach you. If I didn't, I'd never be able to sleep another night without the fear that I am not keeping you safe. The best way for me to protect you is to make sure you can protect yourself.>"
He gently wiped the fresh tears from beneath her eyes, Kaori only managing to say, "<Father,>" as she continued to cry. Not caring to hear anything else, he simply pulled her into a hug, comforting his child and drawing from her some comfort of his own. There they stood for a long time, neither of them wanting to move from the first embrace they ever shared as father and daughter. From that point on, their relationship had changed.[/font][/i]
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Post by hotarokaori on Mar 25, 2009 12:06:11 GMT -6
Nathan: The door opened to reveal Nate, who was already back at work despite the earlier traumas, perhaps to try and put them aside more than anything, despite her advice, though the smile on his face was genuine enough when he saw who it was. "Oh, Lady Kaori... ah.. Hello there." he opened the door fully then, stepping aside to let her in, completely and utterly ignorant as to her purpose her--as far as he was concerned, she was just here to pay him a visit, as she had over the last few days. "Ah, I'm afraid I don't have any new revelations to show you, but... I am glad you stopped by. Can I get you anything?" Getting all the polite stuff out of the way now, seemed.
Kaori: Kaori shot him that disarming smile, though she found herself a bit frustrated. He was a work-horse this one. Ah well. If he insisted on working hard, maybe she could utilize that particular attribute if hew ere to accept her proposal. "No, I am quite well, thank you," she said, the smile never faltering. She looked at the box in her hands an at last stretched out her arms, holding it out for him. "I've brought you something." She would not reveal more, for if she did he might not take the offering. She was not plotting what to say or do. She'd not know how to handle the situation until she had a reaction to work off of. While Kaori was an emotional, oftentimes irrational creature, she had also learned long ago how to get what she wanted. In a pinch, she could have the patience of a saint. (D)
Nathan: "Huh...? Oh... I.. " the poor boy blushed terribly. a gift!? He hadn't been prepared for a gift. Tentatively, he reached to take it from her and flipped it open, uncertain of what to expect. And when he saw what it was? The expression was a curious mix of bafflement and interest. he wasn't sure what to make of it at all. It was a blade, that much was clear, but one he hadn't ever seen before. Lifting it out like it was some sacred artifact, his eyes traveled over it with a scrutinizing gaze, testing the weight. He was no warrior but he knew a little bit about blades. Was this some kind of insight into her culture? A gift to show her a side of it? The weapon looked terribly wrong in his hands--he was holding it like it was a fine piece of dining wear, not weapon! "This is... this is I mean... Wow. Kaori.. .look at the craftsmanship. Is this...?" he looked at her, genuinely moved by such an offer, if misunderstanding it's intent, and replied. "I...I couldn't."
Kaori: Kaori watched him, biting down on her bottom lip, but she was oddly pleased by what she was seeing. Swordsmen had a very hard time handling her weapons, and ironically, Nathan's lack of experience would make it much easier for him to learn how to handle a blade the same way she knew how. Besides, based on his body-type and size, speed would be his greatest asset over brawn. "You can and you shall. But the first thing we're going to do is, this..." She reached out and gripped wood hilt, her opposite hand reaching out and covering his, adjusting where his hand gripped the hilt, murmuring, "Slide your thumb up a bit... there. See, that's more comfortable isn't it?" She did this with a complete lack of hesitancy or uncertainty. A sensei could have neither, and without a true one in Skye's vicinity, Kay would simply have to make do. (d)
Nathan: And that's when her intent came into focus. Were it anyone but Kaori he might have objected than and there, setting the box down near instinctively as she reached and shaped her hands into how the hold the blade properly, following the instruction. Just as she said, the blade was balanced well in his hands, moreso than the clumsier blades he played with in younger days. "Uh.. well, yes, yes it is. It's... I've never seen a weapon quite so... balanced." he tilted his head this way and that, trying to pretend like this was anything other than what it looked like. Lord, she didn't... he looked to Kaori, a painfully innocent expression--uncertainty and outright fear etched into his expression. "Listen... Kaori... I..." he hesitated, wetting his lips to try and buy himself time. "You don't mean..?" he frowned slightly again, trying to find some way out of this. "Look, this is very lovely, but I don't.. I mean, this... " After what happened, the idea of wielding the thing? Of using it? He could barely fathom it. He couldn't even move when the man faced him!
Kaori: Kaori smiled at his initial reaction, he at least was quite accommodating when it came to the adjustments she made. She actually looked quite pleased, though she patiently listened to the objections, folding her hands in front of her as if this was a perfectly natural situation to find themselves in. "You don't what?" she asked, shrugging and looking at him blinkingly. "I must say, you wear it very well. It looks good in your hands. You just need to gain a bit more confidence. Stand a little straighter. And stop looking at it as if it's going to do something to you. Nathan, you tell it what to do. You command it. It listens to you and you alone. This is your sword and its not something you use to hurt people. It’s something you use to protect yourself. That is the goal." And again, back to staring, watching him carefully, and waiting for what might be another rebuttal. (D)
Nathan: "I...I'm not sure I could even do that." he said even as he listened to her instructions! God, why was he even indulging this, the idea of learning how to use this weapon was terrifying in the face of what he saw? The mere thought of being put there again. "Kaori... Look... I.. I know what you're trying to do. but I can't. A... a few days ago... I was.. I mean I couldn't even move. I appreciate what you mean to do, but... this... I..I don't think I can do this." and there came the self doubt. The idea of wielding the weapon was a terror to him. He had almost panicked when Maahes even suggested that he should be serving in some kind of army at his age. Violence and combat was abhorrent.. it was as if holding the blade made him responsible to use it rightly--if he'd had such a thing in the face of the assassin? And Kaori died? The thought chilled him just to think of it.
Kaori: She smiled cajolingly, chuckling after a second. "Oh, Nathan. You couldn't move because you didn't know what to do! Had I never handled a sword, I'd have been in the same state as you and then we would have been killed. Through a very lucky set of circumstances that caught our assailant unawares, I knew what to do. Now, what we need to work on is ensuring that you know what to do if I'm not there." She sighed before saying, "Nathan, really? If you could go back and act, wouldn't you like to have done something different? Have you not gone back to that time 100 times in your imagination to see yourself doing something different?" She grinned, looking from the sword in his hand to his eyes. "Well, God forbid there should be a next time, but if there is... Well, you wont have to go back and think of what you could have done. Because at least with some training, you'll have a chance to act." She watched him with serious eyes, patiently trying to get him to see reason. (d)
Nathan : "O...Of course I would have...!" He protested, if only because the alternative was to watch Kaori nearly die again! "But I mean, it was so easy to think of it after the fact. All I could remember, when it happened, was being distinctly terrified." But would it be any different once he knew a sword? that was what he was afraid of. he looked to Kaori near helplessly. fearful as he was, if it was anyone but Kaori, he would have rejected it. but such was his respect, his affection for the woman that, perhaps in the face of it--he could trust her. She had handled herself as if it were second nature, and as much as he was certain of it, he wanted so badly to be as brave as the woman he admired, and, silencing his own fears, he'd turn his eyes to the blade and, hesitantly, try to square his stance as she asked, staring at the cruel edge of the blade....
Kaori: A huge wave of relief washed over Kaori, though she kept it internal. To show relief would have shown him that she was worried and if he was to trust her in this, she needed to exude confidence. Aside from learning to use a blade, she had been trained to perform. She was doing rather well. She maintained his eyes before holding her hand out as if telling him to remain where he was before moving around behind him, using her foot to nudge his foot out and over a bit, spreading his feet more. Hands reached out to turn his shoulders a bit and adjust his arm. "Do you not think for a few moments I was terrified, too? It's not as if I find myself under attack daily. It's okay to be afraid. It's not okay to let fear conquer you." By the Kami, she sounded just like her father! "And confidence will be the byproduct of learning to handle a weapon. That I know first-hand." A hand remained on the small of his back as she moved around to better face him. "Admit it. There is something... exhilarating in holding the sword. Isn't there?" (d)
Nathan: And he followed every instruction, shifting under her every movement, nodding numbly as she tried to get his stance closer to perfect. Don't let your fear conquer you. The sentiment struck a chord with him, resonating briefly as he fixed on the blade. It was frightening to know he carried something that could kill someone. So it would be good timing on Kaori's part that she'd inject some levity into this, and he smiled, however sheepishly. "A... A little. I mean, I always used to dream of being well... something else. Guess all Scholar's do." he passed Kaori an uneasy expression. "The blade's.. a lot lighter than most European weapons. Isn't it fragile?" he tilted his head, genuinely inquisitive. it was so thin! most European weapons were surprisingly blunt, relying on the weight of the blade to inflict the damage, but it didn't seem the case with this one.
Kaori: She was glad to see he was at least comfortable enough to start speaking again. He was even asking questions, good show, Nathan! This was the Nathan she knew and loved. She considered the question as it was posed, trying to find the best way to answer it. "Well, it's more fragile than weapons crafted in Europe, aye. Had our attacker been more prepared and gotten more strikes in, he very well could have broken this blade. Fortunately he wasn't expecting a fight, and while he was trained well enough to react, he was dreadfully unprepared. You see, the purpose of this weapon isn't to deflect an attacker's sword. It's to get where it needs to be in the quickest possible way and negate the threat. You need to be swift, and that's the purpose of a sword such as this." She unsheathed her own sword and stepped a few paces forward, slicing through the air in a few rapid, blurred arcs, the audible hiss that she loved sounding so much louder than normal within the walls of his room. Resheathing it, she said, "You just can't do that with the swords of this land. You need to think of the combat style differently. If I relied on my muscles, I'd not get far." She was actually admirably toned, but even she had to face it: The people attacking her would win an arm wrestle. (d)
Nathan: The sound of the blade through the air was enough to make him jump! he watched with a mixture of awe and humility. He'd probably slice his own face off if he tried such a thing! "I... I suppose it makes sense. I mean, not to be rude, but if you were to pit your weight against an assailant's I can't imagine it turning out well. You're... well, you and I are both fairly small." he said sheepishly, smiling with a touch of color on his face, which at this point was becoming par for the course. "So... the strength is accuracy and speed then?" he ventured carefully, hesitantly trying to perfect his stance to match hers as best he could, scrutinizing the warrior woman beneath his gaze, the hesitancy melting in the way of genuine curiosity on the subject.
Kaori: She grinned at him. It sounded like he was following along. She hadn't taken offense to his statement. She knew it! She barely weighed 105 lbs soaking wet! "It isn't just our strength. Its our advantage. The disadvantage? Well, you need to let the attacker get in close so they don't suspect what it is you're going to do with the weapon. It's sneaky, but I want to look clumsy when someone is coming after me. It saved my life when I was 16, and I never forgot that. You want to be underestimated. I love the sound of an assailant's laughter. Because I can abruptly turn it off..." For just the briefest moment she looked somewhat haunted, as if realizing that killing was a rather nasty business. But just as quickly, she was Kaori again. In time she would have to prepare Nathan for the responsibility that came with wielding a sword, but that would come with training. "I'm going to have a proper sword crafted for you. In the mean time we practice with this. You will, won't you?" She had decided to at last ask him instead of telling him, letting the decision be his. She even extended her hand to him, as if shaking on it would solidify the agreement. (d)
Nathan: And the theory gave way to practice. in that moment she had asked him to become as she had, and be capable of it. Of course it wasn't something he could decide easily. His eyes traveled uneasily along the blade again, before looking to her, struggling with his own internal debate on the subject. And yet... he admired the woman so much, how could he refuse this? She had his own interests at heart. Could he live up to them, would he? The words came born out of the conflict. "I... admit, Kaori, I'm terrified of the idea. I don't think I could ever... well, I mean, who does, I suppose? But... Kaori, if something happened to you then I could... never have forgiven myself. Not ever. I... I don't want to feel that helpless again. If...If you think this is best than.. than alright. I'll try to learn. If.. if nothing else when the time comes... I can protect somebody I care about..." he said, uneasily, his eyes terribly honest, speaking volumes of the fear and uncertainty, and the resolve beneath them.
Kaori: Kaori watched him, letting him speak, acknowledging his fear and respecting it. She had been so much younger when she started her training, so much more naive. Poor, dear Nathan had a better grasp on what he was getting himself into. "The first time I touched a sword I was bawling like an infant. I had gone from getting backhanded for looking at a sword the wrong way to be asked to handle one. My mother was assassinated, Nathan. She couldn't protect herself or the baby she carried. And my father decided that no matter what, I would never be in that position. That if I was going to die, I'd at least have a fighting chance. You won’t learn overnight. And it won't be easy. But you will learn. And Nathan, the better you get, the less fear you'll have to harbor. And yes. You will be able to protect those you care about, not just yourself." She was speaking calmly to him, watching him closely. Her eyes slid to the hand she was still holding out for him to take, then back to his eyes. There was no trick; simply a deal she wanted to shake on. (d)
Nathan: He hesitated, albeit briefly and turned, lowering the weapon and taking her hand shaking it gingerly with a warm smile. His respect, his admiration for the woman grew, though it was strangely added with the thought. Saying goodbye to her is going to be so terribly difficult… which, in addition, brought with it a sudden revelation--he didn't want to know. The trouble revelation was banished to instead focus on the moment, uncertain but with Kaori as a teacher, he could have asked for nothing better. The decision of whether or not to leave Skye when it was all over, well that was something for later. Perhaps, when this was done, he could finally settle into a new home..
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Post by strongjustice on Mar 27, 2009 13:25:00 GMT -6
The Isthmus of Skye… as it had been come to be known… area between Broadford on the east coast, and Kilbride on the west coast, just south of the Cullins…. Mostly flat pasture land, save one mountain in the center. Those two ports, despite a concentrated effort of Skye troops had been under English control. The pasture lands around the mountain contained an unsurpassed amount of troops of battle, siege equipment, and logistic supply trains… all packed in an area 8 kilometers by 8 kilometers.
“Lord Maubrey, we have a problem MiLord.” The general announced to the knight. “yes general… speak freely…” The General began informing Lord Maubrey that the cannon, trebuchets, and large ballista’s would not make it on the coastal road to Turas Lan… “The ground is too soaked MiLord…” That was when William flew into a rage… “I want those weapons at the city walls as planned… I do not care HOW~!!!!” Pacing in his tent… he looks to his sea Captain. “Captain, prepare the ship, we sail for London on the tide…” Turning back to the general… “General… I want my forces at the walls of Turas Lan with or without the siege weapons as planned… BUT… if those weapons are not there, yu know yer campaign will be at risk… Our diversionary forces have Eamonn and his cavalry busy in the mountains of Eohmark… and keeping the Windsor cavalry and other Aberdeen forces busy and away from the capital. Now IS the time to strike… In the meantime, I will move north from England, straight into the heart of Scotland… then come west toward Skye… Aberdeen and the Bruce will have no alternative than to capitulate…”
Pacing the tent, he snarled at his commanders from the rage he now vented. But he is interrupted by a messenger… Taking the missive, he looks at the royal seal, glancing only to the men briefly.
The missive from the King informed him of the new title awarded him by the Bruce of Scotland and the Pope of Rome… plus the news of loyalist reprisals in Ireland and a current rebellion in Wales. His spies did not provide that information, he HAD to receive it from HIS King… this in itself threw William into a red-faced rage… Each man before him, leery and was constantly attempting to calm his down…
“Get me a G*ddamn messenger now…” he cursed. In the meantime, he wrote out missives to the Governors of Ireland and Wales. “Crush the rebellions NOW or spend your life in the dungeons…” was all he wrote to Sir Flynn, Sir Wellington, and the English field commanders. Handing the missives to the messenger… “Ride hard boy… fail me not, this is important.” The loyal lad of 15 bowed… “I shall nay fail Milord…” then he exits.
“A whole year of success… only to lose the sea battle… Now yu men act as if it is the pinnacle of war for us… I tell you, the tide of war is in our favor… Aberdeen does not expect us to besiege his city… but if Turas Lan falls, so does Skye... and Scotland.” He tried to relax and bring his temper down… “Now my Generals, see to our battle plans… I leave my war machine in yer capable hands… Do not fail me… for I would not hesitate to destroy you all… and yer families…” He offers them a smirk. “I depart upon the morrow for London… in one month the war will be over and we shall be rulers of all Britain…” he glances to them… “You are dismissed…”
The Generals depart his tent and say nothing until they return to their own tents… There they began to work out the best offense for the campaign at hand. Loyal to a fault these men were… secrets that failure was possible they kept to themselves… but Lord William had turned the tide of battle in their favor time after time… this should be no different… They had enjoyed victory after victory against Scotland… why not Skye?
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Post by strongjustice on Mar 29, 2009 10:50:08 GMT -6
The Road to Victory The Generals depart his tent and say nothing until they return to their own tents… There they began to work out the best offense for the campaign at hand. Loyal to a fault these men were… secrets that failure was possible they kept to themselves… but Lord William had turned the tide of battle in their favor time after time… this should be no different… They had enjoyed victory after victory against Scotland… why not Skye?
The night was long as the generals all discussed their Lord’s plan… Surveillance of Skye was slow and the Gryphon’s spy network was nullifying Maubrey’s… They had not enough information… “We lost at Raasay Sound… now the Scot fleet commands the seas, and ours, lies mostly at the bottom of the sea, the rest is weak and unuseful….… I agree with Lord William… we must make a plunge deep into Scot territory…”
“Nay… we need to force the capitulation of Turas Lan… put full thrust into taking Skye… let the King handle Scotland… We cannot take another defeat as our navy did at Raasay Sound…” another spoke up…
The group of experienced leaders could not agree, except upon on the fact that with Skye around, England would be a lesser force for anyine to contend with. Discussions, arguments and taking sides seemed to continue for hours, the candles of their tents shortening with each discussion. “We must have a plan before this night is done…” the others nodded their heads in agreement.
In the end, as the sun rose barely above the horizon, the men yawned… “Are we all in an agreement then?” Rounds of “Aye” filled the tent… “Then we approach Lord William unified?” and the men began to exit the tent and head towards a large one.
Entering the tent, expecting to find Lord William asleep, they were surprised to find their supreme commander at the tabletop, glancing at a crude map of Scotland and Skye… Little figurines dotted the lines upon the map as William moved one here, then back… cursing, then moving another one elsewhere. Looking up, he nodded to the men as they all entered, surrounding their commander.“Yes?” William asked. “Do you wish to add more misery to my day?” The men just shook their heads. “We… all of us have a plan MiLord…”William smirked… “Let me hear yer plan General.”“MiLord… The Griffin army is spread so thin… he have them at every advantage… I… we…” the general looked around… “We all agree with yu Milord… Turas Lan is undefended… should we use the Trojan horse, plus use fire arrows on the walls more for a diversion… and get people inside, they could open the gates, then our men could storm the city and take it… it would only be time before Aberdeen would surrender…”William looked at each man as the general spoke; stopping with him… “We have a significant siege force at the Isthmus yes? And yu feel that getting men inside would be fairly easy?”The generals all nodded their heads. William looked at the map and trailed his finger along a road that led from the town of Broadford, north along the coast, straight into the Skye capital. The General spoke first… “That road MiLord is a great road, my sources says it is a stone road… eight meters wide (24 feet)… wide enough for our trebuchets… It is a main thoroughfare for Skye…” William nodded as he listened. BUT, one thing was a fallacy… the measurements and the condition of the road was false information supplied to the English by Claramae and Alendral… Lord Adam’s spies. In fact, Adam had considered that route as one that an invader would use… and had made plans. He has his spies provide false information, to use as a lure… and in the meantime, he ordered an ambush prepared should any signs showed its use; and William’s invasion of the Isthmus was sign enough. The General looked to Lord William… “MiLord… it would give me great privilege to lead this invasion…” [/b][/i]William just smirked… “No General… this victory shall be mine… I want to take Turas Lan MYSELF !!!” Then he pointed to the map of Scotland… “You General Thomas, shall lead the forces from England to Glasgow… link up with the Maubrey forces at Glasgow, and drive straight into the lowlands of Scotland, crushing the forces of Robert the Bruce… dividing yer force, half will drive west toward Skye… the other toward Edinburgh…” he had been tracing the map to where his general would go… then he slammed the table, his fist hitting the city of Edinburgh… “… there crushing the Bruce’s city… Burn it to the ground; leave nothing standing…” [/color] The men then began to applaud… thus building William’s ego further. None of the men around the table, nor the thousands in the field wish to anger their Lord… for the man had the backing of the English King…
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Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on Mar 29, 2009 12:03:07 GMT -6
The Roads to Freedom The past few days lingered as the spring rains and warmer temperatures beckoned the green, reds, and yellows, of blooming flowers… Adam and Bess now spent valuable time together… for soon they would depart for Edinburgh… and time would become more stressful.
Earlier, Adam had been negotiating with Claramae and Alendral the Illusionist to supply the English false information on Skye movements… Meanwhile Eamonn was fighting the English in his homelands of Eohmark… Balian and his cavalry continued to route the English in the Waternish areas… the Robertsons, the MacDonalds of the north, and Kaelyn Uruqhart's Rangers were keeping the English at bay in the central highlands of Skye… to the south, the MacSweens and the southern factions of the MacDonalds were giving the English a run for their money, making victory so costly to the English. General Maahes continued to make sure Turas Lan and the surrounding area was free to do as they pleased, for the English had not yet made it that close… despite the attempt upon the clans at the MacRauri Keep…
To the south of the Cullins, on what people called the Isthmus, Maubrey forces had cut-off north from south and occupied the entire 8 kilometer square between Loch Slapin and the inner sound of Scalpay…
Adam stood at the map upon the table in the library, turned war room of the Gryphon Castle and looked to his trusted commanders… Jack Flynn, Eamonn, Balian, Kendrew, Maahes, Dmitrii, Aegraine, Kaelyn, Danae and Ren Galanos. This was the time of the greatest military minds Skye had known… all veterans of war, all heroes in their own rite.... all gathered in one place.
Adam looked to each one giving their final orders on the day he departs for Edinburgh… “Jack… Ah pray yae are prepared to sail tae Ireland… tis important tae route the Ainglish and free Eire… Sail when yae are ready… tis important… let no Ainglishman leave Ireland tae aid here…”
Then he looked to Kendrew… “Ah knaew Lady Eirian shall bae safe sir… pray she kin accom’plish her rally of Welshmen… Make sure yae ‘ave enuff men… and when the forces from Castielle join yae, cut east toward Aingland… de nay bae expectin’ it…” he winks at Kendrew.
He looks to Eamonn… “Mae Brother… keep daein wot yae bae doin’ tae the north… Yae shall bae mae eyes, heart, n sword whilst Ah bae in Ednburgh…”
To Balian he smiles, a hand upon his shoulder… “Continue tae let no Ainglish est’blish foothold to our western lines… The Norwegian land forces should ‘ave arrived since yer arrival back here… use them to hold off any invasion…”
“Kaelyn, Danae… Tis yaer rangers have performed well til naew… keep up the good work… AH bae prayin the Robertsons and MacDonalds will hold… and knaew this lass… tis mae heart tae yae in yer time o’need…” His glance went from Kaelyn to Danae and Ren, the brother and sister of Avaria fame… “Lord an Lady Galanos… tis yae bae welcome in Skye, for yer help is greatly appreciated…”
“Cap’n Aegraine… Ah trust yae tae stay in Turas Lan… make sure our walls hold… let not the city bae taken… tis our last fortress for freedom…” he smiles at her, seeing Dmitrii’s eyes narrow. “Dmitrii mae swordbrother… yae shall bae wit me in Scotland…”
Finally he looks to Maahes… his hand upon the large man’s shoulder… of which he had to reach up. “General… Maubrey has such a large force ‘pon the Isthmus… Ah pray the ambush shall work… We shall depend upon yer men to do their best… Ah knaew yae shall bae outnumbered… the Portuguese can provide cannon fire and ship-mounted trebuchet fire from the sea… but yae MUST take as many as yae kin by sword… let no siege weapon cross the way tae Turas Lan…” This Isthmus force concerned Adam, and he knaew that Maahes would have his work cut out for him and his men.
Adam looked around the table at the people gathered… one last time… “Freedom… at all cost, aye? Maubrey bae makin’ life for us hard, should we fall… we need to end this…” then he became silent momentarily as he remembered Eirian’s translations of his dreams… Sighing, he spoke… “Let none here slight in his duty… and we shall all meet again at a dinner table…” he broke a smile.
“Dismissed…” he spoke and he settled on a stool in the corner of the room as he watched each one give respect, to the man they now called Mo’r Triath, as they departed.
Beathag and the children were preparing to leave… as was Shaden and the Bruce… Those would go to Edinburgh… But Adam? He would not ride with them… he would ride with the Gold Talons to the awaiting forces in the field… Along with him would be Dmitrii Zurban… a man who had been with him from the beginning, having sword fealty and offered friendship long ago…
He walked slowly down the corridors toward their chambers… He now had to tell Bess that he would not be going to Edinburgh… but straight to the field…
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