Red Lines: Trouble at Struan

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Red Lines: The Skye Civil War #1
Trouble at Struan

The trip to Struan had been uneventful several times before and Adam was not the aggressor. Leaving his main body of knights, numbering twenty camped outside the city, he and five others entered the city to see the Lairds. The black flag with the golden gryphon upon the field fluttered in the mild breeze.

After the horses were stabled, and the knights settled in; A comfortable room was afforded the Lord of the Isles by the Lairds, in respect. The meeting was scheduled for right after the evening meal.

That evening, he ate with the Lairds, listened to their complaints and offered a a peaceable solution. Though skeptism ran high in Adam’s mind, but his words were discreet, promising a new way of life, free of English, or any others’ tyranny and freedom for all. He spoke of the Isles being as strong as their neighbors and the cities preening to heights as those of Paris or London. As he finished, he continued to listen to words of agreement and dissent.

After the meal, he retired to his room to rest, but rest would fail him. It was a night of fitful sleep, not because of the words of the Lairds said earlier, but visions haunting his subconscious. He was cold…so cold as if he was a block of ice… memories of the lake in Grampain Valley many many months ago. Seeing Bess swing the pick as if to swing a blade in battle, tears frozen to a pinkened cheek. Then early fall, as he hears the cries of an infant faint among the smell of burning bodies… Tossing in the bed, the covers wrapping about his nude form.

Sitting up erect in the bed, the visions of daggers flying toward Bess woke him… oddly his heart slow, not fast as expected, but slow as if Death had a grip on it… “NOOOOO…” he cried aloud, the booming voice echoing on the walls.… a guard and a servant rushing in… “MiLord, aye ye alright?” they echoed one another… Adam was pale…white as a sheep’s wool… looking about to gain his senses… Looking to the guard… “Wake the knights… we return to Turas Lan…” the guard cants his head… “Tonight M’Lord…?” Adam retorts, his voice harsher… “Wake them Dammit… we return at once… send a message to the camp, tell the knights we ready to make Turas Lan when I return…”

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Adam was almost dressed when he heard a knock on the door... “Enter…” the baritone voice boomed… it was midway between midnight and dawn… the messenger tired and weary approaches. “Missive M’Lord… I ride all day and night… The Scribe said it was direly important…” Adam takes the missive and breaks the seal, reading…:::

My Lord Aberdeen…

There has been a civil unrest in the streets of Turas Lan that it is deemed you must know of at once. In your most Revered One's absence, the Lord General brought a man in to the castle to be questioned by your Lady Wife. Of his purpose, it was said he had spread falsehoods and mosthorrendous claims against the noble house and the court, and spoke of the impending victory of the rebellious clansmen in a state of coming war. When his tongue was made loose by the combined, forceful effort of the General and Duchess, he made mention of turmoil in the town of Potree most immediate, with possibility for Drynoch and the Struan place where this has been delivered to your hand.

It has been made an order that men ride out to Potree to assist, in hopes that Lady Kaelyn, our Elite Ranger, and Sir Raven, most noble protector and knight of the realms, may hold with what they have in the most ardent belief they have ridden into a trap. This was thus confirmed by investigation in the marketplace to learn what had been said and the effect upon our citizens.

The Lady has been much aggrieved by the events at hand, and in learning that the man's poison had taken hold… sought to be remedy for it. While speaking with a tinker, one of the brigands tried to slip away, unseen, into the abyss to warn his fellows of them being discovered. Here in is where the unrest began: She gave pursuit of the fiend, and he rowed with her, and she him. Pulling him from the chance to slip into the market further, they were kept in an ally as crowd gathered round. As they came to harder blows, the General came to break up the fray. Weapons were drawn, and people began to scatter hither and yon, but not as he had ordered. Several were involved, injured, and alas, some crushed on the streets. In the end a group of fifteen men were taken by the General's men, and ordered killed where they stood.

Sir, it is with heavy heart that I must also tell you that as the gates to the castle were closed, a man slipped in with murder as his intention. The General had been deemed the killer of his brother, and of whom his brother is, we know not yet of. By the time the guards could catch him, he had already made a scene of finding his target. Setting out three blades of thin metal into the air, it was your wife who sustained the impact of two of them. Of the General's status, exhaustion has worn him thin. Both are now at rest in the same chambers and alive. Pray, forgive your servant for such ill tidings.

Adam looked to the guard… “Make sure we are ready to go when I come down… we waste no time…” then he turned away gathering his light armour. Muttering to himself… “Kaelyn, fight hard, and stay safe… Bessie Eve, forgive for nae being there, I return soon…”

Before Adam had fought the English, one on one, and often outnumbered, but he was emotionless - cold and calculating, with a never-care-be dared attitude toiward life, and he had been victorious. Now he was against people who could call him Lord... Scots... people of the land he and his wife vowed to protect... Now Adam had made a decision based upon feelings...

The five knights who accompanied Adam were waiting outside the finest tavern in Struan… a crowd of well-wishers stood outside. Adam swung up into the saddle upon Bandit’s back. With a casual wave to the crowd, the five rode off, the sun almost setting in the western horizon. Knowing it was not the safest time to head back to the encampment, he wanted to get back to Bessie Eve, to kiss the pain away, to demand her well-being from the healers.

Across the street, a man, who frowned, scurried down the street to the tallest tower… up the stairs he ran, two or three steps in a one stride… at the top, his hands shaking, he tried to light the candled-lantern… finally after several attempts, he was able to spark a flame… with that he lit the candle. Holding the lantern aloft, the signal was passed.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

On the far hill, yet another dim light could be seen to the farthest hills of the Struan countryside… then farther yet, men stirred, weapons sheathed and handled… horses saddled and armour adorned… soon an armed militia of clansmen prepared to cut off the head of the snake that slithered in control of their land, taking what they felt were rightfully theirs.

The five knights rode with their Duke… his heavy sword sheathed on the saddle, the flag of black and gold fluttered in the night's air. The man in black had ridden against enemies before, but not as their leader… just a lone wolf against an army… taking one by one… his own vendetta against the English… and his Father. Now he was a leader, in charge of the birthing of a new nation. A heavy sigh emitted from the man as the group rode back to get the others… then back to Turas Lan and his love… Bess. He had to get back to Bess... damned be the new nation. Her life...his life... was in danger...

The messenger far ahead of the six men of Turas Lan, riding hard toward the others, rode thru a clump of trees... with a deepened thwang of a taunt rope, the messenger was soon decapitated… his head rolling to a stop as the horse gallopped on… the body soon falling from the horse. The men in the trees just laughed… “Dere be one messsage dat nae make it back…”

As two men laughed, another pushed one, “Naew gae git ‘em off da bloody road, ye bloke… afore the others happen by…” the body of the messenger was drug to a nearby ditch…

Then a whistle echoed and the men looked to a tree… a man was atop the elm, pointing back down the road… then 6 fingers held up… hand signals were given... then moved the men into the treeline.

[Sir Dmitrii Zurban]

The night found little sleep from Dmitrii… his thoughts were of Kae, Adam, Bess, and Eamonn. All were either wounded or in trouble of being killed because of his self-indulgence… this adding to the already darkened mood by the loss of Tory. Then there was the girl, Willa, whom he had met and enjoyed a short time with… she too had been hurt, and now lived in fear of her life by siding with the Aberdeens.

In his mind, he feels that he is responsible for all those whom he loved, or come in contact with were hurt while on his watch. It was his duty to protect friends and family, a task he had failed in Inverness that resulted in a destroy monarchy and the death of his beloved Tory… and here in Skye, his friends and family had been assaulted. But it was not over with here as in Inverness… it was just starting and he would see that it ended here… whether he would live or die, he would do what must be done.

From visualizing the death of Tory, to the brutality that wounded Kae and Raven, to the attack on his best friend’s wife… the anger began to surge thru veins… his heart at such an accelerated rate that it would explode if he did not wage war against someone… his sword ground against the wheel once more… the smirk of death as his finger wiped the blood groove of the sword, free of steel shavings.

Kae…Raven… family… ambushed and wounded… he wanted to go to them at Portree… but he must make for Struan to aid his best friend and Duke… Stretching the muscle of his wounded leg… he thought not of himself, but the fear that he would lose yet another friend… or family member… this he would not allow. Then there was Aislin… a woman, whom he called friend… had asked him to let her accompany him… he had asked her to go to aid Adam… Why did he do this? Did she too have to use this civil war as an outlet…? that he could understand…!

All this played on his mind… then there was the dream of Kae… her relating to him from beyond the miles… His last encounter with her had been in anger… or jealousy… but he felt something in his heart… it was her calling to him to let her know she loved him… all this and more ravaged his subconscious at night, and his thoughts during the day... now in the throes of sleep... the Russian words crept from his mouth… “Oh the dreams! Let me sleep…! The pain I have inside hurts so damn bad… let this war bring about peace… for our land… and in my heart and soul !!!!”

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

It was as if he was in slow motion… the road was so long tonight… Infact, he and the men were riding fast… soon they would meet up with the others, then they could rest the horses and begin anew… to get back to his beloved Bess… He had aches and pains… not of his own, but it seemed that he could feel Bess’ pains… something was not right!

Sir Richard rode beside Adam. “M’Lord, are ye awright? Ye look a bit odd in the saddle. “ Adam nodded at Richard. “M’Lord, Ah kin stop the men and we can rest a spell…” Richard informed Adam. “NO!! we continue until we reach the encampment… then we rest.” The Duke retorted… Richard could only nod…

Nothing would keep him from Bessie Eve. His place was beside her… especially if something was wrong with her, or the children. He had these feelings before when she was sick; and they were stronger this time. He HAD to get home !!!!

[Sir Dmitrii Zurban]

The Journey to Struan

Dmitrii had the extra horse loaded with supplies… arrows, bows, spears, should they need them… food and ale… enough for a day long trip… he left the medical supplies for Aislin to manage. The large black Friesian pranced high-step to the rendezvous point where he and Aislin had agreed to meet. He definitely did not wish to endure Eamonn’s anger should he find out what they were doing.

Struan was more than a day’s ride, but he and Aislin would make it under a day… the early evening departure meant they would arrive at the city proper just as sundown would occur. The plan to enter the city during the shed of evening was to prevent questions of reinforcements to the Duke. Dmitrii, Aislin, and six men trusted by Dmitrii and loyal to Adam rode with them.

Eight riders, riding hell-bent for leather… the pain in his leg made him grit his teeth, but a mere wound would not keep him from getting to his destination. The information provided to Dmitrii, over the last two days, laid out a plan to attack the Duke on a return trip from Struan to Turas Lan. Dmi’s stomach turned at the thought of Skye losing such a fine ruler as his friend… and he would do all… include lay his life on the line… for freedom’s sake. He was setting the pace for the group, and the large black Friesian would not let his master down.

Through the night and into the early hours before dawn, the eight rode toward destiny… not knowing how, but knowing where made the difference. One of the northern MacDonald clan leaders had set the trap for the Duke, but other branches of the clan preferred a different style of leadership… hence forth contacted Dmitrii about the plan. Skepticism run amuck as the Kievan Rus considered all options, but the Court Scribe’s letter about Bess’ injuries accelerated the problem. Adam would be riding into the trap before it could be diffused.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Battle of Struan Grove

Log Entry: Fields of Struan [Members - 11] 3/24/2008 08:57 PM

Vox Gladiis: The sky began to lighten in the east as Dmitrii halted the riders… "Wait here… let me ride into camp." Moments later, the call to arms was sounded in the camp and echoed on the night air… When Dmitrii returned, he informed his comrades that the small force of 15 that Adam left behind would rally and ride toward Struan. Looking to Aislin and the 6 men... "We shall ride ahead… we will not wait… they can catch up…" then he kicked the Friesian's flanks and rode toward Struan. It was at the same time, Dmi was in the Skye encampment, that the messenger rode into a trap and was beheaded. This would, in effect set in motion, a series of events that coincided in time at various locations. Five miles west of the Skye encampment, the ambush was set, Adam and the five riders rode down the road, unawares that their lives lay in the balance… Half the distance between Adam and the encampment was Dmitrii, Aislin and the six riders… could they be there in time? Would they be able to make a difference?

Wisps0fHeather: She had finally gotten ta Struan...ta help in anyway she could. The danger was felt all too well. She needed tae be totally observant, one never knew what was ahead. And tae also refrain from being too boy-thingyy. Slipping off her horse's back...she watched all around her. Her neck hairs stood up, somethin' was amiss, she could feel it. She had most of her weapons upon her person. Stoppin', she heard some kind of voices, tho she could not make out who they were. Walkin' behind a stand of trees...she watched quietly. Her gloved hand on tha' hilt of her sword.

Beloved Souls: Echo held the steady pace with wonders, keeping up with the other horses and making Aislin glad that she had chosen to bring her along. thick she might be, but high spirited never the less. Dressed in men's clothing with her hair bound in a braid and shoved under a old hat, she had made sure to stick out as little as possible. Under her clothing, she had even bound her breast with bandages to make them look more like a male's chest and less appealing should the clothing shift such a way. Aislin was no fool and every precaution was taken. Wit the men she waited until Dmitrii moved back and told her they were not waiting. The need to get to Adam was growing it seemed and everyone could feel the tension. A curt nod was given and Alis clicked her tongue twice against the roof of her mouth to send Echo in a strong gallop after Dmitrii, leaving the six men to follow behind. Among her was medicinal ointments, a bow, few arrows, two daggers and a sword that had been a present for her and Eamonn's wedding day. To say she was prepared… was not even close to the false truth. She had never been to war… and never had to fight more then three men at a time. Shyt.

Deeper She FaIls: The city was absolutely alive with talk of the wars that threatened this peaceful world within a world. None of which was lost on Padma, who just so happened to be staying at a thriving place for gossip. All these talks were making her nervous. She had never been to war before, never experienced it as other had. She was no warrior, after all and could never claim to be. Nevertheless, Padma found herself wishing to know more of what was transpiring in her new homeland, though there was very little, if anything, she could do to help. And so, it is in the company of a busy Bess that Padma now was, making sure that she got in no one's way while she learned what she could... perhaps even in the ways of helping in the eventual aftermath.[/color]

Ignia Ferroque: Adam and the five knights, unawares anything is amiss... all he can do is think of Bess... and he is leading his men straight into the jaws of death...Had love blinded him, or was it inexperience in leading men... or both...? The thunder of hooves echoed in the early morn air... Adam wanting to get home... Not far away, the Clansmen lay in wait... arrows ready... swords in hand.

Labyrinthine0ne: Stealth was an ally always worth having at one's disposal, and Ophelia was one to make use of it whenever possible. Light doeskin armor bedecked her slight form; a well-worn breastplate, arm guards, cuirass and shin guards over knee high boots. All of this was worn over a short tunic and leggings, and her overly long, ebony locks were plaited around her head in two buns atop her head. Slung over her shoulder were two quivers heavy laden with freshly fletched arrows and a fine longbow of ashwood. A short sword was also hung at her back, keeping her legs free to run and creep as was needed in the thicker cover of the area. None knew of the guerilla warfare that would soon rain hell down on the heads of the enemy, just as soon as they were found. It seemed that her movement mirrored that of the newly arrived group of Skye defenders, following their lead.

Set In Her Way: In Turas Lan, the Duchess was at a round table spread across with maps, figurines, and many in constinous argument over what would be the best course of action in the South. "Will our presence in Sleat upset other towns? What of the MacDonalds? They have allied with the McKinnons! Do you not know that you will face organized clan warriors! Reconsider…" …. "No, we keep with this court! We will stop in Broadford to attest the clime, and what does it matter? Are your balls made of cotton man, that you'd be afraid of your enemy?" Round and round and round they went! Snapping her neck to the side, vertebrae gave off a loud, despairing crackle as they stacked back into place. Looser now, Beathag turned her head to those gathered as the silence became thick to be broken by her voice, " We are headin' South, wot can be gathered o' the Griffin Army shall be matched against any tha' dare face us. This rebellion will be quelled! Now, gentleman, iffn ye can shut ye gaw..tell me o' supplies, o' reserves.." At the precise moment reason was to have reigned, a messanger came in, taking to his knee. "M'lady..m'lady we have confirmed there is a trap at Struan...M'lady?" That was all she need hear, and she'd heard too much of late. Too many words. It was time to act! " Meeting adjourned! Find m'brother we are leavin now!" [/font]

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Vox Gladiis: The ride to Struan had been hard and fast... Dmi knew the odds were against them, but as Bess had said... the Clans had them strung out across the island. Adam had told him once, he was good as any three men... now he would find out. Glancing over to Aislin, he smiled knowing he had done the right thing... he had faith in her when many others didn't. From the east, Dmi and the 7 rode into hell... not knowing but one thing... their Duke and freedom was in danger. Pointing to the grove of trees by the bend in the road,in the morn sun, he saw dust clouds forming on the other side... The big black Friesian skidded to a halt atop the hill. When Aislin came along side, he nodded... "Aislin... yu stay here with three..." pointing to the men... "Yu are the bowmen... make yer aim true.... I and the others will ride down and divert the clans attention..." he started to turn away, then looked back... "Keep them off my back M'Lady..." then he motioned to the other three,... "Ride hard, cut deep..." taking out one of the deadly twins upon his back... then he kicked the big stallion hard, and with a jolt, the horse bolted... at the same time, Dmi began to scream a Russian charge... the baritone voice echoed into the valley.

Wisps0fHeather: She knew how the clans were, she'd been in one her whole life, but this was deadly. Many could die durin' this war of wills, for tha' was wha' it was. By God she would kill each clansman tha' even threatened ta kill her. Takin' a deep breath, she and Cicero rode towards tha' 7 people riding up ahead. But somethin' was amiss, she could feel it. A trap she thought..they weren't tha' stupid...but then they were here ta kill. So be it, lets begin killin' . She was more than ready. Her amor was black from head to toe. Nae a soul would know she was a lass, until her sword was in their gullet.

ACelticWolfKing: Caden was in the room listening to the conversation Bess was having. When the messenger arrived and she stated they were leaving he stepped forward. " M'Lady. I grew up in Struan. I know all her secrets. Perhaps I can help you arrive by surprise." At his side sat Annabel who had taken well to his gentle training and was laying obediently beside him nearly double the size she had been almost a month ago.

Aeterno Ventus: Meanwhile, the call to war was breathing down upon their necks, and with one war already under the belt, Eamonn suspected that it would not be the last. There was no telling how massive the militia of the clans was, and Eamonn was not going to be a fool and underestimate them. "Any word from out scouts? Knowing the clansman, they will enjoy the ambushes to a field war, and the better we know the terrain, the better off we will be." He spoke to Cormack, his second-in-command. As he headed for the stables, walking with his friend as he retired his steed for the day, Eamonn noticed something...someone, absent. ECHO. Eamonn frowned, and rushed into the castle, heading straight for the room that he and his wife had shared. Where had she gone?! Now was not a time to explore or for joy rides. Swords were missing. Shyt. WHERE was his wife? Eamonn tore down the steps, and came to a skidding halt as a servant beckoned him to the hall where Bess awaited. Eamonn was angry, upset, and worried. Rushing into the room, a gloved hand flung the door open as the other held his helm. "WHERE THE HELL IS MY WIFE?!" He shouted, hazel eyes turning green.

Beloved Souls: A hard breath was the least of Aislin's problems as her body tried to adjust quickly to the hard riding. Never had she really needed to do such so now she was pushing herself to a unknown limit which was not a bad thing. She was proving to herself that she could do this. She would not sit back idly and wait like last time. When she saw Dmitrii's hands moving in the reins and tensing, she did the same, beginning the start of Echo's hault which made her sway forward in her saddle but it was with control. her face was held serious as she looked to where Dmitrii pointed and then back to him as he moved out the commands of what he needed. Aislin had no issues taking his words. Another nod was given as she reached back and pulled the bow from Echo's rear, moving it in front of her before she tested the string. Eyes went to Dmitrii. "Ah shall.." When he tore off towards the fight, shouting out a cry to draw attention, Aislin was quick to reach back and pull out a long, slender arrow. Licking two fingers, she slid them up the feathers and then stuck the parchment note through the sharp tip. Placing it in position, she aimed forward making sure her mark was near where Adam Her body tilted back, making the arrow and bow arch upwards high, before she pulled back, feeling the tension and then letting go, making the arrow soar through the air to land in the ground sticking straight up in front of Adam's steed.

Deeper She FaIls: On the outskirts of the meeting in which Bess held attention, Padma stood and listened intently as arguments covering aspects of this war were being tossed too and fro. Having led a somewhat... sheltered life from wars and killings, it was rather difficult for her to imagine what was happening in Struan. Shapely arms cleverly masking their strength crossed beneath her bosom as the talks furthered to the mention of a trap. A trap?? This just got that much more serious as traps were never a good thing. Confusion and concern suddenly played within her stormy eyes as Bess spoke of going there at once! What? Where Padma had come from, it was very much unheard of for women to fight either alongside or against men. It was literally laughable in the hearts of those particular men. "You are serious? You go to fight?" She asked softly of the Lady once she rose to leave, though her question was set aside as the young man whom she recognized from nights prior spoke up. Though her attention also turned to him, the fact that Bess was leaving got Padma to thinking. She had to remind herself that this was not India.. and that her freedom, or any woman's for that matter, was not limited so that if she wanted too, she too could fight.

Defective Beauty: Jelenah had been standing behind Bess during the meeting and keeping quite as so not to disrupt the discussion. The Slavis woman wasn't exactly thrilled with Bess's words but she was her own woman and doing what was in the best intrest of these lands and its people. She had been so quite and so unmoving that many would probably not known she was there. As others said their piece Jelenah would finally lean forward and express her concerns to her sister. "M'Lady...dear sister... do you think it wise for you to go into battle so soon? There is much still in need of healing. " Hand came to her friends arm, as pale blue eyes showed within them the worry. She went quite then and would allow Bess to respond if she so chose to do so after addressing any others before her. The golden blond gazed about at the others, polite nod and smile given though it was obvious the small woman was anxious in knowing her Lady's decision. If Bess insisted on following through, Jelenah knew what would be needed of her and prepared herself to get ready for it.

Ignia Ferroque: Sir Richard, the Templar and friend to Adam heard a noise far off to the east... the suns rays bearing down into their eyes, his hand reached out... "M'Lord... I see three riders bearing down the hill... maybe we should wait..." Adam shielded his eyes and tried to see what the commotion was... "Aye, ah am naet sure wot it tis Richard..." looking to James, he nods... "Gae see wot the riders want." Just as James proceeded ahead, an arrow landed right in front of Bandit. The tenseness of the situation caused the destrier to rear, sending Adam off the back... before Adam could even hit the ground... an arrow stuck in James throat, the young knight slumping in his saddle... Bandit wandered off with Adam's sword. Adam grabbed the note from the arrow and ran for any cover he could... then 6 men with him charged the grove of trees as clansmen with broadswords met them at the edge... arrows rained down near Adam. Richard was going to Adam when an arrow went into his shoulder, the man fell. Adam sighed and Richard urged him on. Adam took Richard's sword and charged after the clansmen.

Labyrinthine0ne: Watching the movement of the riders, Ophelia guessed their destination and had just come to the edge of the brush to see Lord Adam's group attacked. Skirting around the edge of the trees with a feline swiftness, the deft lady plucked an arrow from the first of her quivers, carefully aligning it as she moved. Moving closer to the scene, Ophelia could see the archers ahead of her, a good twenty paces or so hidden from view from those on the field. With care and considerating, she situated herself within sights of them and slowly drew back that tightly strung bowstring, aiming with eyes of an eagle's perception. Twang...quickly another arrow was notched and...twang...the first of the deadly duo took one archer high in the chest, the second maiming another archer's mainhand. Quickly, she fired at a few others, hoping to draw the majority off so that they would follow her in a wild goose chase through the thicker parts of the thicket. A couple drew off the attack of Lord Adam's group, maces and swords ready as they approached her hiding spot. Dashing away with a deer's swiftness, Ophelia found herself melding with the trees and brush slinking into the shadows.

Odis Schleitz: Odis had come down through the halls, as the large warrior rushed passed him. The small quirk of a brow came and the small shake of his head. Though before he could get much further, Eamonn came rushing passed once more. Odis frowned and followed, it was the bellow that had echoed down the halls that brought the steps a bit faster. The demand for his wife was nearly a flashback for the man as he came into the area. He said nothing as one of the maids leaned up and whispered into his ear as he gave a nod. He kept his silence but the passing information of the Duchess's decision combined with the fury of the Marshal? Well in one thing his daughter was correct. He had a difficult time staying out of fights.

Set In Her Way: The Duchess Aberdeen had her mind made up the moment the words were spoken. Nothing come from between the archways of speech was ever to be taken for granted. "Jelenah, Ah'm gaein. I'll need ye tae o'ersee the remainder o' the plans carried out fer the journey South." Steady, even intonation was given her as her Lady-in-Waiting spoke her mind. Behind stern expression, she felt a sense of pride that Jelenah would do so. "Aman-un-Din and the Kushrenadas have leave tae make decision on the Dutchy's behalf in m'absence, Jelenah ye shall o'ersee all is done on their behalf n' command the maids accordingly. M'leather armor needs tae be fetched..n' saddle Caldonhan! Gather the quickets riders n' light weapons we leave in mere moments!" Eamonn's entry with the cause of a missing Aislin, it twisted her brow. This was not the time! She hadn't the foggiest clue where the healer had slipped off too..though..she wouldn't...would she? If it was one thing, any patient persons patience was due to run out some time. But she wouldn't..."Gods..I haven't a clue n' send someone tae find the Lady Aislin! Eamonn, they've headed intae a trap..they are movin' North n' m'self along with them.." Padma caught sight of green eyes, glimmering with cut fericiousness. Already the men at the tables were moving, and her hand took hold of Caden's shoulder "Ye will take a horse from m'stable, grab your sword. Gae, gae on. We'll need ye knowledge."

Vox Gladiis: Russian? No one knew Russian! No one knew what he was screaming, but did it matter ?... three men, their swords drawn meant one thing... The five men in the trees with bows glanced the direction of the noise, then focused back to the original plan. A signal was given and 10 men rode from the gulley... to intercept... "Pezdyetz..." he cursed as he saw the riders come from no where... he gritted his teeth and aimed Troika in their direction.... seconds later, the three men loyal to the Aberdeens clashed headlong into the group of clansmen... this approach Dmi appreciated, as just a second before the clash, he took the reins in his mouth and drew the second twin... Swinging both blades into a crowd, he had to reduce the numbers... just as he rode out the other side of the clashing horses and men, a man with a spear stuck it deep into Troika, sending Dmi, and his horse, to the ground... a roll forward, he sighed then picked up his swords just as the men rushed him... as steel clashed, men cursed in many languages but pain was the universal linkage between them all. The man was crazed; if anyone saw Dmitrii, all the emotions that had been pent up now forced his hands - no trained movements, all obscure methods of swordfighting; Men began to drop on both sides... wounded or dead, they were out of the fight... legs lay severed from the thigh, arms from the shoulders... blood stained the ground for meters...

Wisps0fHeather: She had Cicero galloping at top speed... she had made it to where Dmitrii and his men were....slipping off Cicero, she climbed up a tree sitti' off tae itself... she pulled out one of her long dagger's with the crooked edge… she aimed carefully and let it fly right into that fool Macdonald's throat..'another one bites the dust… she thought… so long jerk...' one less one to worry about. Jumpin' from the tree, she found a MacKinnon...she knew them all, they rolled about on the ground tumblin' here and there, his dagger was mere inches from her throat, she lifted a leg up and kneed him good in the groin. Quickly she slid her sword inta a nother's chest. Tha's be three, she thought. Comin' up to where Dmitrii was, she flung a bodice dagger at an archer, knockin' him off his feet, the blade stuck in his throat.

ACelticWolfKing: Caden nodded at Bess's words then turned to leave Annabel on his heels as he went to get his sword then slipped out into the stable to choose a horse for himself for the ride. A swift one was chosen. A black half Arabian half Andalusian. He had the gelding saddled in moments and was ready to ride when the rest were.

Aeterno Ventus: Fearful concern of his wife's truancy, apprehension ensnared his heart. Why, at this hour, would the thought of a ride cross her mind? Aislin lacked spontaneous nonsensical nature; this was so unlike her, and it worried him deeply. The blonde Marshal had no concern or eye for those he passed by, for his mind was already preoccupied with those of his wife and warfare. Bess had no recollection of where his beloved had gone, and if Bess did not know...then where did she go and why did she disappear without word? Oh this was great anguish and misfortune! "FIND HER!" He could not stress that enough. However, he was forced to place attention on a trap set by the clans. Truthfully, the acquisition of his spouse was more vital than this petty battle of power. Yet any personal matter became imperative. He was torn. His sister was rushing off to aid Adam and Dmitrii...and he could not let her go alone. Frowning and releasing a frustrated growl, he clentched his hand and turned to the nearest servant available. "Gather my men! GO!" Eamonn couldn't forsake his sibling. No matter what he said, Bess would find a way to go. Damn her stubborn nature! Pulling the helm upon his head, he fastened it. "Then let us leave NOW. With our loss we hasten their defeat." He said stiffly, before turning and heading to ready his horse and men.

Beloved Souls: Aislin only had to move so fast in her life at times when someone was in need of serious healing, but this was much different. War was only the beginning of her element and she was learning fast now. Slender hands moved fast to pull out the arrows from her back, place them in position against the wood and string before pulling back and aiming. Near her she heard the other men's armor shifting as the ascend and descend of arrows flew over head to fall in around those needing protection. SWOOSHSWOOSHSWOOSH. Her and the men by her side still sat upon their horses, sending one arrow after the other in chain reactions so that men closer to Dmitrii and the other riders fell. With a click of her tongue she sent Echo moving forward carefully so as not to loose her rider while Aislin held her arrows for a moment. "MOVE CLOSER ONE AFTER THE OTHER..DO NOT STOP THE FLOW OF ARROWS." Aislin moved faster until she gained more ground then paused and started to fire at will again, letting the next man move up to where she was so only one bow man was lost at a time. Hopefully they could get close enough to assist better and for better aim.

Deeper She FaIls: Though she has not known Bess long, Padma had already read the strong will of the woman. She worried for her safety, but knew already that she was a force to be reckoned with, indeed. Especially after she heard about the riot in the marketplace. That look in the Lady's eyes as she looked to Padma had a small, half smile creeping along her lips. Padma gave a soft nod in understanding, "Please...be safe." Her tone was serious in that she really did want her and all those that traveled with her to return safe and in one peice. She had to respect Bess' dedication and strong will, being so brave where Padma could not even fathom. A nod of both greeting and goodbye was given to Bess' Lady in Waiting before Padma excused herself and left the room, still trying to wrap her mind around the idea of battles, women fighting alongside men, and for the first time, feeling like she was able to do something never before, but not being able too. For nothing else then for the sake of her children.

Defective Beauty: Jelenah stood in silence again as she listened to the words of her High Lady. She would nod letting Bess know she understood she was to see to the plans that were spoken before in heading south. However now she would go and see that her Duchess's things were ready and prepared for the ride out. She would nod to Bess and simply reply with. "Yes M'Lady... I shall go and see to those very things now." She would curtsey slightly and bid excuse herself from the room in order to see to the things needed. First she would go to the Lady's room and fetch the leathers and weapons. On her way there she instructed a servant to see to the horse and that she would be double checking in behind him once she was done helping Lady Aberdeen.

Ignia Ferroque: Sword clashing with another, teeth gritted as the two forces collided... a swift turn here, a cut low there, Adam was use to this... in the belly of the beast of battle... two hands swung the blade and took off a man's head, then with a spin, severing another's leg... Adam was splattered with blood... but he fought hard... Now Bess had taken second place to survival... surrounded by men of clans, he fought side by side with one last knight... then he began to see archers hidden in trees, falling to their deaths... they were not alone... and this sparked him further. "Fight Mark, fight for freedom."

Labyrinthine0ne: The unsuspecting duo of archers had met their swift ends deeper within the gully and now lay still with their throats cut from ear to ear. Proceeding back forward to her former hiding place, Ophelia began to pick off more of the archers, who now seemed in the midst of a terrific, confused chaos in deciding who to fire at. They had been ten when the battle had begun, if Ophelia had counted accurately. Now, due to her and Aislin's efforts, there were five. Moving with a sure-footedness of a fox, the lady-gone-warrior crouched low and lifted her head just high enough to take good aim. Twang...twang...twang. The night blue fletched arrows sang through the air, meeting targets and a deadly accuracy, felling three of the remaining five archers. One of the last two finally got Ophelia within his sights, before unsure of the origin of the arrows. A loosened arrow from his bow grazed her cheek as it almost took off her pretty little head, a side step saving her only just in time. Riled by this attempt on her life, Ophelia slung her bow quickly over her shoulder and drew that short sword with a glimpse of sharp, glinting steel. "For SKYE!!!" followed by an incoherent battle cry of old led the lady in charge against the remaining two archers, their eyes growing wide with shock at the heathen, demon woman charging them from seemingly nowhere.

Odis Schleitz: Odis stood to the side in the hallway, servants scattered both beneath Beathag's commands as well as those bellowed by Eamonn. He seemed for a moment lost in thought, until the light touch came to his elbow. The small grin was offered to that petite blond that carried such a resigned expression on her face. Within her hands was the heavy packs as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. He turned his gaze to Beathag and gave a nod before making his way out to the yard with the rest of the soldiers assembling there. The only thing he could offer any of them at that moment was a passing comment of reassurance to Eamonn, which he was positive the man would not accept well, at least not from him. " We'll find her. " He offered with a curt nod. The Gods awful looking horse stood in the yard, looking for all the world bored. The man chuckled faintly and set the packs across its back before seeing to the saddle and bridle. All he could do now was wait. The worst part of any war really.. the damned waiting.

Set In Her Way: "Agreed." One word was all it took to concur with her brother. The pair of them needed no words, really. A look, an arched brow..their steel together said enough. Already the women were gathering their rosaries and praying for the souls to be saved, and maybe even the ones unfortunate enough to end up on the side of heathen steel. Golden tresses were pulled upward into a bun secured with a think dagger drawn up from the inside of her bodice. All too soon,, leathers would encase the body: gauntlets, chest bindings, shin protectors, sword. She mounted Caldonhan a living, breathing arsenal. Daggers n' dirks were slid into the conceivable places, throwing axes bound to her hips via a cross strap of doeskin. If there was a smile, it would be for Jelenah as she had done her tasks and done them well. It was easy to attend the common woman. Even easier to attend one who was perhaps a vagrant tart or emboldened hussy. It was never easy to attend the Scottish Boadicea incarnate.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Vox Gladiis: The Battle of Struan Grove was small in comparison to other battles, but of no less importance... but the men loyal to the Aberdeen's were outnumbered, out maneuvered, but not out-willed. Dmitrii was fighting like a madman... twin swords clashing, twisting, turning, dipping, cutting, slicing human limbs from torsos... The wound on his thigh had ripped open and was bleeding as if it was new... Blood now ran down his leg... his heart raced faster, sweat mixed with blood upon his brow... he could taste the copperness of the blood... still he continued to fight... Finally, at his weakest point, the men he brought with him was dead... men who had served him for over a year... the loss of blood and the toil of fighting numbers far greater than your own, had him on one knee... he was spent, all he had to do was die... he lay down as if he had been killed, looking up to the sky... His hand reaches for the cloud, her face almost forgotten... he heard her words... and sees her right before him... He begins to speak Russian to her... "My love... I am done... I can do no more... I have no will left... all I touch die..."

Tory Zurban Ghost: ....."Dmi.....You have always and forever shall be my flame to your fire… do not give up my love...I love thee forever"

Vox Gladiis: "Tory.... Tory don;t goooo..." Her words touched him like none other, but she wisped away like the clouds of time... Suddenly, the will to fight had returned but the strength was not; in a futile attempt to rise, he looked toward Aislin and fell backwards.

Wisps0fHeather: Why in hell were the Scots fightin' each other, how would they fight England? Damn clans, weren't worth tha' powder tae blow them tae hell and back. Then she found Dmitrii, injured. She hoped Aislin was nae tae far away, for tha' onla thin' she could do was stop tha' bleedin' by tyin' a tourniquet around his thigh. She knew he would na let her dae tha', but she insisted. He was hurt, she wasna.

As soon as she put a tourniquet around his thigh, she stood up , lookin' down at him. " I have tae go where Adam is, he'll need help fightin'. Ye stay here and wait fer a healer. Ye cannae walk Dmi... nae tha' well anyways." With tha' said, she jumped up on Cicero and off they went. An ambush she thought to herself as the pair of them were gettin' a bit closer to where she thought Adam was..she heard fightin' nae tae far away. Slippin' off Cicero she told him tae go elsewhere. Now she could fight and do it well. Whatever foolish men were left she would do them a favor by killin' them. They were nae good for anyone else. Causin' trouble, bloody rabble! She had found Dmitrii...he was wounded badly. She knelt beside him as he was mumbling something... "Dmitrii… don’t move... you'll make it worse..."

Aeterno Ventus: The dapple-grey stallion was brought out and already prepared for battle. Eamonn observed the buckles and fastenings, as precaution, and asked for his weapons. A bow and arrow-filled quiver was attached to the back of the saddle for easy access. His sword was strapped to the belt around his waist already. Daggers were hidden in each boot, both being similar to the Scottish dirk, one having been a gift from Bess, that dirk that belonged to Brycean would see service in war, as well as the dirk that had been his father's and seen every battle that which he fought. Swiftly, he mounted Finbar and took the long spear from the soldier that handed it to him before running off to mount his. Six hundred horsemen, it was no great army, but it would do for now. Wheeling his horse around, the tall Marshal moved close to his sister, all the while facing the ready horsemen. His face was somber and serious, for now they were riding to war. "WE RIDE NORTH! FULFILL YOUR VOWS! FOR RULER AND REALM!" He shouted, before spurring his stallion onward north, the tip of the spear held erect in his hand with silver tip gleaming in the light. He would not leave the side of his sister, for he had a promise to keep to Adam. With life or death he would protect his sister to whatever end.

Vox Gladiis: Dmi lay upon the ground... the vision of Tory was as real as the death about him... 3 men who rode with him were dead, and his blood now soaked the fields of Struan. Someone was tending to him... the red flames of her hair fluttered in the sky... Was it his imagination that the fighting had slowed... were they victorious? Exhausted and bloodlost, he didn't feel like he could... or wanted to move... "Just let me die... leave me alone... save yerself..." he muttered. Meanwhile, Adam's men from down the road had been alerted and rode toward the Grove... as they rounded a bend between two hills, men, as many as thirty began to fire arrows upon the 15 knights of Turas Lan... Dmi being held by Brynna saw the ambush and screamed... "NOOOOO!!!" as the second wave of arrows zinged toward their target "Aislin... look... yu must stop them...." he pointed toward the massacre.

Wisps0fHeather: "Dmitrii...ye must stay here....yer far tae injured tae be movin' about. I'll go m'self. Just donnae move much...tha' bleedin' could get worse. And I'll be damned if I let anythin' happen tae ye.I mean it...really." * She got up slowly as she pulled out a kerchief and knelt back down, she used it as a tourniquet to stop tha' flow of blood hopefully. She then mounted Cicero and off they went ta where Adam was. She wasna nae gonna let him die either. Not if she could help it.

Aeterno Ventus: There was a great need to reach the entrapment that awaited, if not already clutched strongly, at their friends and family. Unfortunately warfare took him away from his own family, one of which could not be accounted for. It would taste a folly fallacy to say that the thought and absence of his wife at home did not linger on his mind. The long spear was clutched within the gloved hand as the other held the reins. With all haste the company of riders were northbound to lend what aid they possibly could. The Dapple-grey stallion snorted and held his head high proudly. Hazel eyes were glued upon the horizon, the silent blonde still trying to set aside the worry his heart harbored. But it was hard. Very hard.

Beloved Souls: Aislin and the three other men made their way by horse back closer to the area where a war in the small sense or ambush was happening. Coming upon the immediate area..she saw Dmitrii go down and a knight in all black armor go to him but already Aislin was charging Echo that way. What was he doing?! She heard his cries and without stopping, Echo's massive mare body slammed into a male that had been walking towards the two, mowing him down under her weight without care. Aislin ducked arrows and lay clsoe to Echo's body until she was close enough to pull Echo to a stop and dismount in such a hurry that she fell onto her side flat on the ground, knocking the wind from her for a moment before she scrambled back to her feet. the knight in all black left Dmitrii and mouted before heading off but Aislin did not stop as she moved for the male who was suppose to protect her. Aislin did not feel anger like most people, but frustration bled into her body, making her turn into the only person she understood. Eamonn. Reaching down as she ducked more arrows that wissed by her head, she grabbed a handful of Dmitrii's armor and clothing, yanking him up as her lips curled into a twist and she gritted out her words. this was NO time to be wishing for death! "GET.UP.NOW. DMITRII. YE ARE MEANT TO BE HAVING MY BACK....YE CAN NAY DO IT ON THE GROUND HOPING FOR DEATH. STOP BEING WEAK!" Aislin was cared to death...her heart was pouding too fast for her to catch her breath, her body shook like it was cold yet she felt nothing inside save for the worri of death and here the male was wishing for it! When he spoke that there was a ambush and she had to do it, her eyes went wide. WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE SUPPOSE TO DO! Panic… her mind went five ways at once. All these emotions flooding her..she tried hard to push them back and close them off and finally she was able to do it for but a few moments as she let go of Dmitrii and called out for Echo.

Ignia Ferroque: "Fight, Mark.... Fight for freedom..." Adam was almost back to back with the young knight, his first real battle has turned for the worse as the Clansmen had ambushed them... still he fought bravely... Swords clashed as the young knight grit his teeth at the jarring blows of the Scot broadswords... Adam continued to swing, parry, and slice at human flesh... so far so good... almost out numbered 5 to one... the odds were getting better... they had managed to stay alive while Scotsmen died in vain.

Labyrinthine0ne: After making mince meat of the remaining two archers that had been nearest to her, Ophelia took note of the overwhelmed Skye defenders out in the field and quickly made to assist. Before charging in wild abandon, the lady-gone-warrior took careful aim at those nearest....Lady Aislin? What in the Goddess' name was she doing out there? Fear for her new found friend urged her to pick off as many of the attackers as possible before it was too late. Twang...twang...twang...three down...countless more to go, it would seem. Determined to use up the first quiverful of arrows, Ophelia notched another, letting it fly in the direction of the fresh group of archers that would dare to rain death upon the defenders of Skye. Twang...an axe-wielding giant fell forward, an arrow straight through his chest. Ah, the joys of longbows...alas, the sword would now get its use as that had been the last arrow of that quiver. Dropping the empty leather quiver to the ground without a second glance, Ophelia sprinted nimbly to Aislin's side and knelt before the delirious Dmitrii. "More will come, methinks, Lady Aislin. Until then, we wreak hell upon these disloyal malcontents..." And having said that, the lady left her side and jumped into the fray, wielding that short sword with a skill unknown to others until now.

Set In Her Way: "Onward!" One word, one cry had sent them forward through the Northern Gate as if they were a storm. Raising dust when the roads became wild paths, for they'd cut from the main paved roads in order to make better time. Caldonhan threw his head up, eyes glaring. He knew what lay ahead and was anxious to make lightning spark beneath his hooves. She felt them close but too far for her tastes as the horizon afforded the same stretch of skyline. Dark, velvet thickets sliced by the blade of the Godess moon. 600 men, a small gathering of healers, surgeons. Would it be enough? What had already been gathered and how large was the movement becoming? Question after question until the single line of sight produced what it finally sought. Struan. What a sight they made on the the borders of the town, causing people to pour out of their homes an watched them as they passed to the Fields of Struan to finally meet their enemey head on. "Hold on Adam," she said to no one but the Gods "But a little more. Father, let me do right by our blood and lineage this night." It would not be the first time Beathag spoke to Einar, nor would it ever be the last.

Vox Gladiis: Death would forsake him yet again... the redhead left only to replaced by a she-devil... Aislin spoke words in tones he never heard from her before... then he saw a familiar glint in her eyes...fear... Coupled with her words, something struck a cord deep inside of him... she was right... she had much to live for... and it was his duty to protect her... and he would... with all his might... Sticking the sword into the ground, he raised himself from the ground, picking up the second twin as he rose.

Feebly, he took up a spear and broke it in half... pushing one end thru his trousers and down inside the boot, making a harsh splint. Sheathing the twins of death, he hobbled to Aislin... "Forgive me M'Lady... I am yers til death, or yu release me from my duty..."

Wisps0fHeather: Brynna had gone to the left of the hill meetin' archers wit' their deadly arrows...she ducked here and there, pulled her bow and a deadly poisioned arrow, aimed it, it flew right into a fool's chest....,instantly some man jumped her horse and took hold of her back, with one swift movement , an elbow went straight to his throat, knockin' him off of her and Cicero. As if on cue, Cicero stomped on him with his hoove. "Good work boy!" Jumpin' off of her horse, she went in for tha' kill, one arrow here, then a tumble on tha' ground. She stabbed a man in his gut and twisted the serrated edge of the dagger. Getting to her feet, she swung her sword, liftin' a man's head from his body sendin' it sprawlin' forward inta a tree. She felt bad leavin' Dmitrii, but Adam needed help, if it was tha' wrong decision, so be it. Just then she saw a man sneakin' around, she aimed and pointed the arrow straight for the man's chest. Another one bites the dust.

Aeterno Ventus: The cavalry unit that he could muster on such short notice was only, sadly, six hundred strong. There had not been enough time for him to gather a larger force, so it would have to do. There were some surgeons upon the back of mounts, as well, but what possible fighting could they do? Their need was not upon the field of battle, but the aftermath, for it was in their hands the caretakers of the wounded. If only some could see their worth, for no prowess of the sword could even compare to the skill of the needle. Eamonn knew it, for it had been the weight that kept him living. Struan was not coming hither to their foresight, and the closer they got, the harder his face become. Already, in the distance, he could hear the clear ringing of metal like death chimes, and screams of men as they met their folly. Green eyes turned to Bess, his only sister. "Stay near me and in my sight." Eamonn said sternly. That was an order. Tossing his spear up in the air, he changed positions so now it was attack ready, wishing for sweet justice. "TO WAR!!!" The Marshall cried out, and spurred Finbar into a hard gallop, the rest of the company doing so as well, save the surgeons who lingered behind rightly. Hard and fast the horsemen crashed into the lines of the enemy, a blow not expected or counted upon. And so, the madness ensured.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Beloved Souls: When Echo came to her side, she was about to grab Dmitrii when he rose and gave his pledge. "Ah shall be holding ye to that...believe me.." when a figure came by, Aislin was on edge only to find...Ophelia..." WHAT BE YE DOING HERE?" Shocked for only a second..it did not really mater why she was there..but the last time she saw her, she was being pulled away by a crowd. Her words..meant one more person to help. "Snatch a horse Ophelia...we are going into the jeas of the beast.." Aislin helpd Dmitrii move onto Echo, before climbing on behind him "Do nay fight me...save yer strength..ye want death...it awaits there..." with riens in hand..she charged them towards the right side of the hill where the archers lay. She did not even stop Echo as they ran up behind them. men turned, but already Aislin's fear was pumping blood in her viens. Dmitrii jumped from the horse to tackle three and Aislin followed in suit.

Ignia Ferroque: The Clan reinforcements from north of Struan, ones that planned on finishing off all that the Duke dared against them... would never make the grove as Eamonn, Bess, and 600 riders met them head on... arrogance begat death... Adam saw, at the far end of the grove, yet another battle ensued... He and Mark had battled their way from where they started thru the grove of trees and to the edge of the open field... bodies lay every where., Knights of Turas Lan Black and Gold, and Scots.. a few hundred meters away, he saw the onslaught of his knights... men fighting bravely up a hill... only to be shot at from another... his heart sank, but his ire rose... as he started to the clearing... When he sheathed the dual swords upon his back, he knew...Dmitrii... but what was he doing here? The horse... the horse looked familiar and it wasn't the Kievan's... "Aislin?" he muttered... "It caenae be..." The he nudges the young knight... "Come boy, we make for the hill..."

Labyrinthine0ne: Taking heed of Aislin's words, Ophelia accosted the very next rider that she came upon, vaulting up behind him on the large bay. He attempted to shove her off, taking her to be some common wench caught in the midst of the trap, but alas...for he was sorely mistaken. Short sword whipped around from the sheath at her bath to cross over his front and rake a deep, bloody trail from ear to ear. His resistance grew futile as his life's blood poured out all over his chest, dripping down to the ground where Ophelia shoved him shortly thereafter. Taking up the reins of the fallen Clansmen, Ophelia kicked the horse into a gallop for the same hill as Aislin and Dmitrii, choosing to remain together.Riding amidst the ranks of archers that would turn in surprise at their sudden onslaught, Ophelia raked their number with her sword and a heavy, spike-studded mace that had luckily been attached to the saddle of the horse. Shielding her short sword, Ophelia leapt from the horse's back as she wielded the heavy two-handed mace wildly in face circles, taking out half a dozen at a time as they tried to close in on her. One was fortunate enough to catch her from behind, grabbing at the back of a locked knee as she fought to keep her feet. A wild scream erupted from deep within, raw and primal as the forces of nature...and the killing would continue...

Set In Her Way: She had the heart of a warrior, the prowess, and the deadly skill. No one would turn the tide of Scotland without her hand to command the waves! None would take the beloved soil to degrade her with treachery and disdain! The soles of her feet were placed well in the stirrups as her weight shifted forward. Bracing herself by the grip of interior legs, abominals became a wall of tense, still muscles that held her form erect a few inches above the saddle. " NO QUARTER! DEATH TAE THE TREACHEROUS!" She had yearned for the feeling of the weapon shaking in the force of piercing the wicked forlorn, to take her first kill of the war. On the Fields of Struan, The Hound of the Underworld came in a dust storm to collect the chosen who would die. Scrambling to turn around, one's misfortune was her delight as it was not her axe that laid waist into the gut, but spear with a most ferocious tip.

Vox Gladiis: Dmitrii started to balk at her, but her words cut him off... though he could only smile at her ferocity... it befit her... the wife of the Marshal... and now she was coming into her own... she now would have a spot in his heart for as long as it beat...

The lady now manhandled the wounded warrior... getting him onto her horse... She spurred the fine animal into a run... right toward the men upon the hill... into the jaws of the beast, to stare death face to face... the pair rode together... Slipping one leg over the saddle, he leaned back into her, long enough to get a good look and wink at her... "Push hard..." which she did... and it appeared he jumped, but half and half, using the good leg as a push-off... as he landed on three men... knocking them to the ground, followed by a roll out, and a fast, unconscious stand upon both feet, he winced at the pain of his leg, drew the twins of death, smirked at them... No need to Pray to yer God... for yu shall see him soon enough..." then he began to swing swords, metal crashing, left, right, right, left ... soon he would send them to their Maker for Judgment and prove that he was equal to three men...

The immediate threat disposed of, he looked for Aislin... then he smiled at the sight... and intercepted two men who was coming up behind her... dead... cut down by the man in black before they could harm her... Now, any closer, the two would be back to back.

Wisps0fHeather: Brynna had found herself in the clutches of death, a place she had been many times before. The man that wielded his sword had lifted it up high ta reign id down on Brynna, which would kill her instantly. There would be no way, she would die this day. She kicked the sword from the man's hand, jumped up quickly and took the man down, dagger hangin' from the man's chest, but he still fought. Rollin' around on the ground they fought , daggers, dirks flashing here and there, then suddenly she slammed her mace she had hidden, she laid it across the man's head. As the impact hit him, his head bounced back, she heard the crack and snap as he fell to the ground dead. It had broken his neck from sheer impact. Damn there was another one, she thought. They went at it..swords flashin, clinkin against blade to blade. It would be a long night she thought.*

Aeterno Ventus: Now the war was not so out weighted. The Allies now had some help from the cavalry to turn such a once hopeless massacre into a fool's hope for victory. With spear held high, green eyes held a look of cold apathy and reflected the severity of warfare. On the field, he was still the Marshal, but first and formost, he was a soldier with a duty, and he was sure as hell going to carry it out, to the death. "DIVIDE THEM! CORMACK SWEEP UP THE ARCHERS!" He commanded as gloved fingers clenched the spear strongly. "DEATH!!" He cried out, and with a mighty heave, the long spear soared straight and true into the air, impale a soldier through the cavity of his chest and pinning the man to the blood soaked ground. May retribution come swiftly at the tip of his blade. Finbar charged by, and when rider and steed came close to the spear still portruding from the dying man, a gloved hand reached and snatched it out of earth and body. No mercy, by the order of the Lady Beathag herself. Once more the spear got its taste of flesh as the Marshal plunged the long tip into the back of another. Horsemen came behind and beside them as the battle grew fierce and bloody. A clansman with a pike rushed toward him and Finbar with hopes to dehorse the Marshal. With speed Eamonn wheeled his stallion around and shouldered the spear, cokeing it back before lauching it once more with deadly speed. THUD! The pikeman screamed. He would not be attacking he nor his horse. Green eyes glanced down to the foe running by with sword raise. Sneering, Eamonn sent a swift kick to the man's face, toppling him as the rider whipped out the bow next to help lessen the foe's force.

Beloved Souls: When Dmitrii said to push ahrder, she did and Echo went right into it as if she were born to go that fast. Dmitrii left and Aislin was left to do the same, jumping onto a male's back from the fast speeds of Echo. It hurt...more then she thought it would have. The breath moved from her lungs as her and the male went rolling on the ground. Echo turned around at full charge, running men over, causing havoc before stomping those that tried to stick her. She tried to get back to Aislin, but too many men came in her way. Aislin got to her sensed and moved fast to her feet, unshealthing both daggers from her thighs and holding them with the blades facing her forearms. She did not see Dmitrii taking out the men behind her, for her eyes were forward. A mistake..but it was corrected. The male got to his feet and pulled out his own daggers before they began the dance of death. She remembered this...from when the brothers trained her. She dodged the sword at her side, and ducked the male;'s swing, seeing a opening as her blades went out, slicing his stomach while she quickly moved around and behind him. Standing straight, she kicked him in the arse to make him fall forward and shake from the blunt blow to the soft area in between his armor before she moved toards Dmitrii and placed her back to his. "Now..we have each other's back..do nay let me get stabbed.!"

Ignia Ferroque: To the hill they ran...meeting clansmen armed with a variety of weapons... the young man held his own, as he and his Duke made a good pair as they fought like a choreographed play... fewer and fewer came to meet them as they topped a small knoll... to their left, they saw brazened riders attacked the hill... he saw Dmitrii jump, then Aislin... Looking to Adam, Mark commented… "Thay bae crazy M'Lord... Crazy...!" Adam laughed at Mark's comment... "Efficient Mark...Efficient..." then he laughed again. It was then that Mark pointed to the southeast... "M'Lord, look..." at first Adam started to sigh until he saw the black and gold standard... and those of Eamonn's cavalry..."Look at those beautiful warriors Mark... Makes a man proud just tae see 'em, it daes..." then he noticed a familiar sight...."Bess..." he muttered... "ye crazy she devil... ah luv ye..." Adam just pointed...

Labyrinthine0ne: After taking down quite a few misfortunate, or rather foolhardy, Clansmen, Ophelia was becoming bogged down in the mess of them, their greater number and stronger mass bearing down on her slight form...ah...should've kept to the trees, she thought as she glanced about hurriedly for an escape or something of any help. Fear tried to insinuate itself within her rapidly beating heart as she fought for ground, many arms holding her until a blade or weapon could found to subdue her. In a rash, hopeful move, the woman threw herself forward with all her might, breaking the holds of those behind her and sending those in front of her tumbling over their own heads. Relieving one of his long sword, Ophelia began to work her way back to the edge of the field, closer and closer to the trees to get out of the worst of the fray. As she caught her breath, she pulled her bow from her shoulder and began sending deadly missiles here and there...twang....an arrow cleaving right through a man's unprotected skull...twang twang twang...an arrow caught another man in leg, pinning him to the tree behind him. The rain of death would take down as many as there were arrows in her quiver before she would run out. "Ah well, I caught my breath.." and off she went again, plunging headfirst back into the storm of battle, deadly wounds abounding as she cut her bloody path toward the cavalry.

Odis Schleitz: There it was.. the call of charge.. sorta. In either case it was close enough. Odis had taken his time preparing on the way, instead of suiting up when they left. It cut down on fatigue. The blade was withdrawn and held in hand while the strange glove was fit over the other. The battle cries lifted left and right of him as men poured forward into the fray. What else could he do but follow? The crash of bodies and horseflesh was rather horrific while the endless work of death was being delivered by all those about. The Baliff , to be honest, was rather enjoying himself . old failing of his. The blade dipped and slashed while appendages fell to the wayside. Pikes were thrust up at both he and the ugly horse, nasty buggers those things.. as he simply dropped off the horse onto a fellow. Odis liked being on the ground level at any rate. The horse now free of its burden kicked out at those that got too close, one man had been foolish enough to get closer still to the flat yellowed teeth of the horse and found a hunk of his shoulder neatly removed. Gruelsome yes, but wars typically were. Out of old habit the man hummed to himself as he and others about him tore into the ground troops, keeping some busy allowing the head of the group to continue onward without fear of being closed in around.

Set In Her Way: " DOWN, DOWN TAE HELLS YE GO!" A cry tore out across the landscape as the pike head left one body to plummet down into another. The left hand collected the shaft, tossing it back for better grip, before launching it forward to take down a clansmen on the charge. Caldonhan reared back, his front legs sending hard kicks into footmen as the sickening crack of the sternum going in half was blighted by the ricochet twang of her first launched dagger. As precise as as an archer's bow, as deadly as a falcon's descent, it threw pandemonium in a line of archers. "Help me! Help me don't leave! God, God!" His bow fell to his feet, he to his knees as he strained his arm, trying to free his hand now pinned into the trunk of a tree. Whispering into the horse's ear the speed would increase enough to ride by to collect her pike, and send the man to meet his maker sooner than he would have anticipated. It was hard to say why they ran, for they outnumbered the forces of Turas Lan. Perhaps, perhaps..it was seeing the green eyes of the Marshall and Duchess gone mad with rage.

Vox Gladiis: Dmitrii was swinging the dual swords at anything near him... once again the throes of revenge and bloodlust took ahold of his mind... dodging, turning, stabbing, slicing... cursing at every swing. One wrong movement and a man, or woman, would be dead... this was soon reminded to Dmi when he turned to dodge a blade, but it did catch his side... "Chort,.... ye suka..." cursing in russian; as he swung hard and cut the man's arm from the shoulder with one blade, then gutted him with the other... Fewer and Fewer came to fight them... many left laying wounded and dying, limbs severed, gaping wounds bleeding profusely... still there were enough men on the hill to keep him and Aislin busy... Now he stood arms open, inviting others to play... "Divae... mosh na... igrae..." [come on, thats right, lets play]... and he threw a glance over his shoulder when Aislin bumped into him... and heard her words..."Nyet, ya lublu devischeka.... Stavii Myneya..." [No... I luv ya girl... stand with me...]

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Set In Her Way: Bess wouldn't count the amount of lives she cut down in the Battle at Struan. Too many to tell, too many to distinguish - all of the traitors ceased to be men or alive to her the moment they betrayed the land that bore them. What was loyalty if not the country one's kin was from? Blood was thicker than water as it made a crimson rain falling to congeal in puddles of false perpetrations cut down to lachrymose remains. Caldonhan came to the end of Struan Field… "Hold friend.." she told him, so they could assess the changing tide turned on their arrival. For a moment, she watched their men return to them wounded… and some returned as corpses. When it was time to go into the battle again, that would be another life she would rectify. For every life a traitor took, she'd gladly repay them with a loss.

Aeterno Ventus: The death toll was staggering, and Eamonn refused to take a tally of those men that lost their lives. His mind was already forced to be coherent on the battle at hand and while doing his best to guide his men safely, it was his duty to safeguard his sister. However, Eamonn was finding it awful hard to keep tabs upon her as she charged off. However, she was within sight, to at least his sister did not escape his visual completely. The congregation on the hill with Dmitrii was leaving, by his word, and before another word could be spoken, Eamonn urged Finbar onward. As the pair zoomed by, Eamonn struck another soldier down with a heavy blow from the sword gripped in his hand. To the death and whatever end. Finbar galloped with all haste down the field while rider slashed at ever retreating traitor. To say that Eamonn was a warmonger was an understatement. He knew the severity of war, and while they were still outnumbered, the patriots of Turas Lan were turning the tide in their favor. As the dapple grey stallion ran down the field, Eamonn caught up to a pair fighting. Help your fellow soldier. With a swift stroke, Eamonn hewed off the soldier's head, and nodded to the footman of the Griffin. Without a word, the man was off, and wheeling around, Eamonn trudged on, keeping an eye upon his sister. TWANG. THWAP. Eamonn winced as an arrow sunk into armour and flesh covering his upper arm. It could have been worse. Crimson liquid could be felt running down his arm, but right now, there was nothing he could do about it, save to break it. Sheathing his sword for a moment, Eamonn reached for the arrow and quickly snapped the end off, so he would not hit it and cause more damage in battle. Rushing by a spear, Eamonn snatched it out of the ground and with another heavy throw, impaled another to the ground.

Set In Her Way: At Inverness the Scotts fought against one enemy. At Struan, they were one another's own worst nightmare - wind gave much needed fresh air to carry on the lingering scent of death, fire, blood, and smoke away over the sea. The curtain of element was pulled back so that the Duchess could see her brother again. It was impractical to ride side-by-side the entire time, but they made due on a promise for one to be visible by staying within radius. Lines and circles had one at the beginning, one at the end. She gave a nod to a messenger lad, ten perhaps, "Tell them to make sure Sir Zurban is in one piece, n' have him report, if he is able, tae the Duke n' Dutchess' tent. Adam will want tae know his right hand is well." The Griffon Lord had managed to keep himself and several others alive in an Eastern thicket, crossing his sword with another taken from a fallen enemy to block an advance. Thrusting them back, he ran the man threw with passionate, calculated precision. From time to time they had caught eyes, a glimmer, unable to go back for the other but always praying. "Keep them from the Duchess' horse!" he commanded, sending his archer to shoot at the legs of men in pursuit before she had crossed the lines of the encampment. Now, it was time for her to return, with a fresh quiver of arrows and a bow to accompany her sword.

Aeterno Ventus: With all haste he and his sibling made it to Struan to provide a distraction for the forces within the trap to give them time to get out. With the Lord involved, it was important to intervene was quickly as possible before the enemy keyed and preyed upon Adam and Dmitrii. Green eyes saw the horse of his sister head back to camp, and for a moment he was naive enough to think that she would remain there with her husband. Wheeling around, the spear was picked up, and as a soldier rushed him and Finbar, Eamonn sneered and slammed the sole of his foot into the man's face, feeling bone break under the force and weight. "Bastard." He growled, and Finbar snorted angrily. As if to get his say, the dapple-grey stallion stepped on and stomped the screaming soldier on the ground that had intentions of the most dishonorable kind. The militia was breaking up! They were winning! "DRIVE THEM FROM THE FIELD!" He roared, raising his sword and pointing away from the encampment behind them. Galloping, muscles moved beneath the greying coat with seemingly stars upon the hairs. Long ears were folded back and head stretched out to obtain the most speed that could be coaxed from his body. With another fierce war cry, Eamonn tossed the spear, and took out the sword once more. As they had practiced upon the field, Eamonn swung off Finbar's back as the horse still galloped, and landing on his feet, he raised the steel blade to block a blow, and twisting the sword, he disarmed the man and sliced him across the side. Finbar circled around, going wide as his rider and brother of spirits fought on foot, helping what men he could. When the horse came back around for another pass, Eamonn kicked a man away from him and waited. As Finbar zoomed by, Eamonn grabbed the mane and quickly hoisted himself up, straddling the saddle and feet digging into the stirrups more.

Set In Her Way: Telling Bess to stay in the encampment was as effective as telling Eamonn to stay in bed. Neither of them listened unless they were forced by gravity pulling their bodies down in exhaustion. Given that such a time was not among them, the Duke continued to fight on with the knowledge his wife rode through his valley of cut down corpses. Holding the quiver in one hand, she leaned to the side just enough to secure a release. TWANG! Right into the brachial artery of an unguarded arm lifting to take down one of their horseman by surprise. TWANG! Another, and another, and when it came time to go to foot, Caldonhan stayed closed to his lady. Some of the men had slow, bulkier bodies and weapons for what should have been a fast, quick style of skirmishing. Putting her back to a tree, she focused her efforts on footman running from the field to fetch their master's reinforcements. When asked of her aim by his fellow, Adam would only reply that his wife's second name, less used, was Gavina… which meant hawk. If she hadn't been a hound, than perhaps a bird she would have accepted. Hand-to-hand combat came her way in the form of two men against one woman. She whistled shrill, and Caldonhan came to barrel them down under his feet. "Out n' away..." she whispered to him, sending him to ride out of the thicket in a hard semi circle to draw away pikeman's attention. He was attractive "bait" but it was only an illusion, for the pikeman looking one way brought his end coming from just below his line of sight.

Aeterno Ventus: As Bess skirmished in the thicket with Adam, Eamonn took to the field of war, where the massive onslaught was taking place. Cormack, his second in command, was effective in taking out their archers upon the hill, riding around behind them and running them down. Horses whined loudly and only added to the ambience of war. This was his element. The Marshal turned around, and up ahead spotted one of their own horsemen taking down a Griffin footman. Eamonn frowned. "HORSEMAN!" He called out, and seemingly getting his attention, the man turned to see the Marshal. Frowning, the black-haired rider charged toward him. Eamonn replied. Finbar reared, knowing the charge, and the two raced toward each other. Impact. Pulling on the reins and sending Finbar to a sharp halt and turn, the stallion slammed into the bay horse, and taken by surprise, the horse reared and fell over, rider and all. Eamonn sprang from the saddle of Finbar, and threw himself down on top of a writhing horse and surprised rider. Sword held high, Eamonn plunged the blade over and over into the rider's chest, sending him to meet his gods. The bay got to its feet, panicking, and running down field and away from the battle. Ripping the sword from the man's chest, Eamonn looked up and quickly rolled off the dead rider's body. Rising to his feet, Eamonn turned to find his steed waiting for him. However, there was a pikeman rushing toward his faithful friend. "FINBAR! RUN!" He shouted, and before the man could thrust that pike, Finbar bolted, and Eamonn deflected the sharp end with his sword.

Set In Her Way: She emerged from the thicket with hair streaming as her own banner of battle. "HA!" she cried out in mocking tones, drawing the foolish forward to die at the hands of waiting footman. "Gae, Caldonhan!" Taking the reigns, she swung her legs down from the horse as he once more released his mistress for a fight on foot. There were so many lads with them, so many young men who gave of themselves with no promise at seeing tomorrow. One was a banner man, holding to his Sir's insignia for all it was worth, using the pole as a weapon to fend of blows and steel. His eyes met with the Lady of the Isles in determination to honor her, to honor his Lord, and his knight. He was no more than thirteen, his lord, holding on to his leg as he struggled to stand. "Stay down!" she commanded, running forward and using an overhead thrust downward to run through an attacker from behind. They were now side to side, the boy said, "I will defend ye, m'lady!" She was proud of him, and honored… "Sae it will be boy! Wot is ye name?" "Pherson, mam!" She took out a dagger for her right hand, taking a chance to get a man in his hip as the sword took his head away. In the wash of blood, she nodded to young Pherson in time to see Finbar at work. "Ye will be remembered this day Pherson, n' ye remember it!" The boy still felt a surge of wonder to see the Marshall's horse kicking, biting, fighting as if he too had justice to serve. Bess helped the fallen knight to his feet, got him astride the horse, and turned to see Pherson placed in the saddle, "Ride ye back tae the camp. Well fought Pherson!"

Aeterno Ventus: The pikeman snatched his pike away, seeing the horseman protecting his steed, and silently cursed the blonde Marshal. The point was thrust toward him, but Eamonn jumped back and out of the way of the point. Grabbing it with his only free hand, Eamonn yanked it forward, and quickly stepped on the wooden shaft, snapping the end off quickly and tossing the blade aside, Eamonn swung with his sword hand at the man. But the soldier hopped back, and whipped out his own sword and dagger. So it would be that way? Fine. Eamonn sneered and reaching in his boot, Eamonn pulled out the dirk that Bess had given him. Brycean's. With sword in one hand and dirk in the other, the two fought, a parry, thrust, swing. The pikeman managed to get a hit on the horse lord, hitting him in the jaw and making the tall blonde stumble backward. That only made him madder. Growling, he swung the sword and thrust with the dagger, fighting with both until Eamonn saw an opening. As their sword clashed, both of their weapons were temporarily locked and they were pressed together in a dance of sorts. Grunting, Eamonn kneed him in the groin, and shoving him back far enough, Eamonn sliced him across the throat with the dirk. The soldier gurgled and gagged, but finally fell to the ground. Infantry were running away and back to the encampment, leaving the horsemen alone! No! No retreat! Wiping the blades on the dead man's body, he sheathed them and picked up the fallen banner of the Griffin. The banner carrier had died victoriously, and Eamonn was going to honor him. The banner had been tied and fastened onto a long spear, with a point thirsting for blood. "DON'T RETREAT! PUSH THEM FORWARD!" He called out, before holding up the banner and racing forward with it in gloved hands. The banner caught high in the breeze and waved proudly. Another sign of hope and the honor of the once assigned carrier. Eamonn stopped, and with the spear, he smacked one across the face with the butt of the weapon, before thrusting the tip forward and into the man's chest. Snatching it back out, the banner was raised again as he charged forward, and as if the men had a rekindled flame of hope, they followed. Blood upon the tip gleamed, for the Griffin had tasted its victim and served justice.

Set In Her Way: Adam lifted his sword and cried out, " Stay with your arms! Follow, Follow!" He followed his brother-in-law to the ends of this field, this battle! The world slowed one more time… one more image to remember. Pherson was so close, so close to his escape but it was thwarted by pikeman's spears. Her eyes narrowed and the cry that tore out of her body made the air around them quake. Finbar defended his rider's back… and to make sure the horse was not caught unwares, Caldonhan bucked at the archers. The quiver was empty, the bow tossed aside, and all that was left to grab now was at the weapons of the fallen all around them. Some went to Eamonn, other's stood amay, as if in one last debate… to kill their cousins, brothers, to kill their countrymen weighed heavy in their hearts. The tip of the spear. Not that sword, nor the axe, and the empty quiver stood a chance.."TAE HONOR! FOLLOW YOUR MARSHALL! YOUR DUKE! FOLLOW YE LORDS AND I WILL GAE WITH YE!" Reaching down to her feet… she pulled up the burned remains of Scotland's flag, "FOR YOUR MOTHER COUNTRY! LET NAY MAN BETRAY HER!" With sword to her back, she carried that flag forward, and only that in her hands as Pherson had been.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Adam and the young knight stood on the hill overseeing the battle below… Eamonn and Bess had arrived at the most convenient moment and Adam was truly appreciative. The Army formed under the black and gold fought with courage, will, and expertise that could equal or surpass many armies of the known world.

To his left, he saw Dmitrii and Aislin fighting back to back and standing their ground. One he knew equaled 3 or 4 men, but the Lady Aislin, who liked like a boy, made her own mark… a killing machine locked away in a beautiful form. Her practice had paid off when the time required it.

With a smile, he looked to Mark… “Dunnae tell Lord Eamonn his wife bae here…twould nae be wise Let his mind stay upon the battle, ‘nd nay her. Let’s let his wife tell ‘em…” then he winked at mark.

Suddenly Mark pointed to the far side of the hill… then the pair started to run toward Dmitrii and Aislin as nine riders rode toward them. Screaming commands to Griffin riders, he directed them to the aggressors. With the Griffin riders on an intercept course, forcing the Clansmen to turn… they headed for Adam and Mark…

The pair, seeing the situation develop, drew their swords and stood their ground… "Ready lad?" Adam spoke to the young knight... the clansmen riders were then divided in half, some defending themselves from the Griffin riders, and four was charging Adam.

The heavy broadsword arc’d over his shoulder, then a sidestep at the last minute, a shift of weight and his arm pushed into a swing that would strike the horse at the knees…

The charging steed now tumbling forward, Adam did not look at the rider, but turned to parry a sword that would have killed him. Clang, clang, clang, steel meshed upon the field as men battled to the death… a block, then a spin and a twist of his body, Adam brought the heavy sword up and across a man’s torso, the cut deep enough to end the life in a gurgle and choke as the torso fell to the ground.

Turning, he saw Mark engaged in his own battle. He had skill for such a young man… The death blow for his opponent came quickly… and as the young man, smiling, looked to Adam for approval suddenly stiffened… his eyes became large, and blood soon seeped from his mouth.

He had been shot by a crossbow by the horseman Adam felled. Adam then took the heavy broadsword, held high over his head, and sent it sailing thru the air. End over end it went to the felled rider… then with a sickened thud found its mark in the man’s chest, quickly knocking him backwards to the ground.

Adam walked to the young knight, the arrow tip sticking thru his chest… kneeling down, he sat next to the lad… “Nae… dunnae die boy… be straeng…” the lad just gurgled his apologies…

Shaking his head, tears shook formed in his eyes… The lad wiped his mouth and spoke softly… “Duunae cry M’Lord… Ah died faer Scotland and the Griffin…”

Adam had tears in his eyes… “Nae Mark… yer nae allowed tae die naew…” Taking off the breast plate, he opens his shirt displaying the evil scar on his chest… “See… ah too almost died… if’en ah can take a lance, ye kin take a small arrow… yer naet allowed tae die boy… hang on…”

Adam walked to the dead soldier and took out his broadsword… then went back to Mark… picking up the lad, he, all covered with blood of all sorts, carried the young knight out across the open field of battle towards the encampment where Eamonn’s surgeons were.

[Sir Dmitrii Zurban]

The battle for Struan Grove was small, violent, and decisive… What had been planned as an ambush to “cut the head off the snake” turned into a battle that would pave the way for a Gaelic Renaissance of the future.

The hill where Dmitrii and Aislin fought was the pinnacle of the end for the Lairds plans in the north. It was a sign to the Lairds that the Guardians of the black and gold had the “will” to fight… to go the distance to establish themselves in the proclaimed right to live in Skye.

The final and most devastating blow was the arrival of Eamonn and Bess. This demonstrated to the Lairds, that the new reign was not a ragtag bunch of loyalists but an organized, experienced, and well-armed army.

Dmitrii had fought on adrenaline alone… the blood loss would weaken him but the ferocity in which he fought was soul-sought… the hatred within his heart from losing Tory, to the fealty he swore to protect Aislin… to the thoughts of a girl back in Turas Lan who simply wished to be free and live with her Father in peace.

Leaning upon a spear for support, his body covered in blood… some his own, some of opponents… Dmitrii looked at Aislin, the glanced about the field where many clansmen had died. “Ye performed well M’Lady… and I am very proud to have fought beside ye…” the r’s rolling from his tongue in his Russian accent, as he looked down into the valley where Eamonn was clearing the field of battle.. “Now yu may have to explain yer presence here to the Lord Marshal…” a wicked smirk appeared, crinkling the beard.

The makeshift tourniquet that Byrnna had put on his did not last long, nor did the brace he made. Blood and mud had caked upon his thigh forming a crude bandage on his thigh wound.

“Come now, lets face the next battle together as well… to explain why you are here…” he told her… really wanting someone to sew him again, but in order to do one task, the other would follow. “Have yu seen Lord Adam? Let’s go check down below and see how he is doing?”

[odis]

Odis and the men that were about him fought as they wished to live through the day. The ugly percheron found him once more as he stood panting with the others. The farmer squinted his eyes and looked over the gory field. His own clothing and face painted red.. some his own.. most belonged to others. The blade in his hand felt heavy as he reached down and pulled the strip of cloth from one of the dead to wipe down his blade as he walked.

He had seen carnage like this before. It was like walking backwards through a memory. The groan caught his ears as he saw one of the guardmen he had gotten along with , struggling to get back up to his feet. The man had lost part of his arm, Odis moved towards him and tied off the stub as best as he could. " Come on.. can't leave you here with the dead. " He helped the man up, and a hand about his waist both began to move off the field. The guard looked at him a bit perplexed.

" Durin' the fightin.. I heard singing.. " The man stated a bit bewildered. Surely it had been in his head as Odis lifted a brow.
" You did? Hm.. we shall have to look into that. "

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Beathag: Bess wouldn't count the amount of lives she cut down in the Battle at Struan. Too many to tell , too many to distinguish -- all of the traitors ceased to be men or alive to her the moment they betrayed the land that bore them. What was loyalty if not the country one's kin was from? Blood was thicker than water as it made a crimson rain falling to congeal in puddles of false perpetrations cut down to lacrimose remains. Caldonhan came to the end of Struan Field.."Hold friend.." she told him, so they could acess the changing tide turned on their arrival. For a moment, she watched their men return to them wounded..and some returned as corpses. When it was time to go into the battle again, that would be another life she would rectify. For every life a traitor look, she'd gladly repay them with a loss (d)

Eamonn: The death toll was staggering, and Eamonn refused to take a tally of those men that lost their lives. His mind was already forced to be coherent on the battle at hand and while doing his best to guide his men safely, it was his duty to safeguard his sister. However, Eamonn was finding it aweful hard to keep tabs upon her as she charged off. However, she was within sight, to at least his sister did not escape his visual completely. The congrigation on the hill with Dmitrii was leaving, by his word, and before another word could be spoken, Eamonn urged Finbar onward. As the pair zoomed by, Eamonn struck another soldier down with a heavy blow from the sword gripped in his hand. To the death and whatever end. Finbar galloped with all haste down the field while rider slashed at ever retreating traitor. To say that Eamonn was a warmonger was an understatement. He knew the severity of war, and while they were still outnumbered, the patriots of Turas Lan were turning the tide in their favour. As the dapple grey stallion ran down the field, Eamonn caught up to a pair fighting. Help your fellow soldier. With a swift stroke, Eamonn hewed off the soldier's head, and nodded to the footman of the Griffin. Without a word, the man was off, and wheeling around, Eamonn trudged on, keeping an eye upon his sister. TWANG. THWAP. Eamonn winced as an arrow sunk into armour and flesh covering his upper arm. It could hae been worse. Crimson liquid could be felt running down his arm, but right now, there was nothing he could do about it, save to break it. Sheathing his sword for a moment, Eamonn reached for the arrow and quickly snapped the end off, so he would not hit it and cause more damage in battle. Rushing by a spear, Eamonn snatched it out of theground and with another heavy throw, impaled another to the ground.

Beathag: At Inverness the Scotts fought against one enemy. At Struan, they were one another's own worst nightmare -- wind gave much needed fresh air to carry on the lingering scent of death, fire, blood, and smoke away over the sea. The curtain of element was pulled back so that the Duchess could see her brother again. It was impractical to ride side by side the entire time, but they made due on a promise for one to be visible by staying within radius. Lines and circles had one at the beginning, one at the end. She gave a nod to a messenger lad, ten perhaps,"Tell them to make sure Sir Zurban is in one piece, n' have him report, if he is able, tae the Duke n' Dutchess' tent. Adam will want tae know his right hand is well." The Griffon Lord had managed to keep himself and several others alive in an Eastern thicket, crossing his sword with another taken from a fallen enemy to block an advance. Thrusting them back, he ran the man threw with passionate, calculated precision. From time to time they had caught eyes, a glimmer, unable to go back for the other but always praying. "Keep them from the Duchess' horse!" he commanded, sending his arches to shoot at the legs of men in persuit before she had crossed the lines of the encampent. Now, it was time for her to return, with a fresh quiver of arrows and a bow to accompany her sword. (d)

Eamonn: With all haste he and his sibling made it to Struan to provide a distraction for the forces within the trap to give them time to get out. With the Lord involved, it was important to intervene was quickly as possible before the enemy keyed and preyed upon Adam and Dmitrii. Green eyes saw the horse of his sister head back to camp, and for a moment he was naive enough to think that she would remain there with her husband. Wheeling around, the spear was picked up, and as a soldier rushed him and Finbar, Eamonn sneered and slammed the sole of his foot into the man's face, feeling bone break under the force and weight. "Bastard." He growled, and Finbar snorted angrily. As if to get his say,the dapple-grey stallion stepped on and stomped the screaming soldier on the ground that had intentions of the most dishonourable kind. The militia was breaking up! They were winning! "DRIVE THEM FROM THE FIELD!" He roared, raising his sword and pointing away from the encampment behind them. Galloping, muscles moved beneath the greying coat with seemingly stars upon the hairs. Long ears were folded back and head stretched out to obtain the most speed that could be coaxed from his body. With another fierce war cry, Eamonn tossed the spear, and took out the sword once more. As they had practiced upon the field, Eamonn swung off Finbar's back as the horse still galloped, and landing on his feet, he raised the steel blade to block a blow, and twisting the sword, he disarmed the man and sliced him across the side. Finbar circled around, going wide as his rider and brother of spirits fought on foot, helping what men he could. When the horse came back around for another pass, Eamonn kicked a man away from him and waited. As Finbar zoomed by, Eamonn grabbed the mane and quickly hoisted himself up, straddling the saddle and feet digging into the stirrups more.

Beathag: Telling Bess to stay in the encampment was as effective as telling Eamonn to stay in bed. Neither of them listened unless they were forced by gravity pulling their bodies down in exhaustion. Given that such a time was not among them, the Duke continued to fight on with the knowledge his wife rode through his valley of cut down corpses. Holding the quiver in one hand, she leaned to the side just enough to secure a release. TWANG! Right into the brachial artery of an unguarded arm lifting to take down one of the their horseman by surprise. TWANG! Another, and another, and when it came time to go to foot, Caldonhan stayed closed to his lady. Some of the men had slow, bulkier bodies and weapons for what should have been a fast, quick style of skirmishing.Putting her back to a tree, she focused her efforts on footman running from the field to fetch their master's reinforcements. When asked of her aim by his fellow, Adam would only reply that his wife's second name, less used, was Gavina..which meant hawk. If she hadn't been a hound, than perhaps a bird she would have accepted. Hand to hand combat came her way in the form of two men against one woman. She whistled shrill, and Caldonhan came to barrel them down under his feet. "Out n' away.." she whispered to him, sending him to ride out of the thicket in a hard semi circle to draw away pikeman's attention. She was attractive "bait" but it was only an illusion, for the pikeman looking one way brought his end coming from just below his line of sight. (d)

Eamonn: As Bess skirmished in the thicket with Adam, Eamonn took to the field of war, where the massive onslaught was taking place. Cormack, his second in command, was effective in taking out their archers upon the hill, riding around behind them and running them down. Horses whined loudly and only added to the ambience of war. This was his element. The Marshal turned around, and up ahead spotted one of their own horsemen taking down a Griffin footman. Eamonn frowned. "HORSEMAN!" He called out, and seemingly getting his attention, the man turned to see the Marshal. Frowning, the black-haired rider charged toward him. Eamonn replied. Finbar reared, knowing the charge, and the two raced toward each other. Impact. Pulling on the reins and sending Finbar to a sharp halt and turn, the stallion slammed into the bay horse, and taken by surprise, the horse reared and fell over, rider and all. Eamonn sprang from the saddle of Finbar, and threw himself down on top of a writhing horse and surprised rider. Sword held high, Eamonn plunged the blade over and over into the rider's chest, sending him to meet his gods. The bay got to its feet, panicking, and running down field and away from the battle. Ripping the sword from the man's chest, Eamonn looked up and quickly rolled off the dead rider's body. Rising to his feet, Eamonn turned to find his steed waiting for him. However, there was a pikeman rushing toward his faithful friend. "FINBAR! RUN!" He shouted, and before the man could thrust that pike, Finbar bolted, and Eamonn deflected the sharp end with his sword.

Beathag: She emerged from the thicket with hair streaming as her own banner of battle. "HA!" she cried out in mocking tones, drawing the foolish forward to die at the hands of waiting footman. "Gae, Caldonhan!" Taking the reigns, she swung her legs down from the horse as he once more released his mistress for a fight on foot. There were so many lads with them, so many young men who gave of themselves with no promise at seeing tomorrow. One was a banner man, holding to his Sir's insignia for all it was worth, using the pole as a weapon to fend of blows and steel. His eyes met with the Lady of the Isles in determination to honor her, to honor his Lord, and his knight. He was no more than thirteen, his lord, holding on to his leg as he struggled to stand. "Stay down!" she commanded, running forward and using an overhead thrust downward to run through an attacker from behind. They were now side to side, the boy said, " I will defend ye, m'lady!" She was proud of him, and honored.."Sae it will be boy! Wot is ye name?" "Pherson, mam!" She took out a dagger for her right hand, taking a chance to get a man in his hip as the sword took his head away. In the wash of blood, she nodded to young Pherson in time to see Finbar at work. " Ye will be remembered this day Pherson, n' ye remember it!" The boy still felt a surge of wonder to see the Marshall's horse kicking, biting,fighting as if he too had justice to serve. Bess helped the fallen knight to his feet, got him astride the horse, and turned to see Pherson placed in the saddle, "Ride ye back tae the camp. Well fought Pherson!" (d)

Eamonn: The pikeman snatched his pike away, seeing the horseman protecting his steed, and silently cursed the blonde Marshal. The point was thrusted toward him, but Eamonn jumped back and out of the way of the point. Grabbing it with his only free hand, Eamonn yanked it forward, and quickly stepped on the wooden shaft, snapping the end off quickly and tossing the blade aside, Eamonn swung with his sword hand at the man. But the soldier hopped back, and whipped out his own sword and dagger. So it would be that way? Fine. Eamonn sneered and reaching in his boot, Eamonn pulled out the dirk that Bess had given him. Brycean's. With sword in one hand and dirk in the other, the two fought, a parry, thrust, swing. The pikeman managed to get a hit on the horse lord, hitting him in the jaw and making the tall blonde stumble backward. That only made him madder. Growling, he swung the sword and thrusted with the dagger, fighting with both until Eamonn saw an opening. As their sword clashed, both of their weapons were temporarily locked and they were pressed together in a dance of sorts. Grunting, Eamonn kneed him in the groin, and shoving him back far enough, Eamonn sliced him across the throat with the dirk. The soldier gurgled and gagged, but finally fell to the ground. Infantry were running away and back to the encampment, leaving the horsemen alone! No! No retreat! Wiping the blades on the dead man's body, he sheathed them and picked up the fallen banner of the Griffin. The banner carrier had died victoriously, and Eamonn was going to honour him. The banner had been tied and fastened onto a long spear, with a point thirsting for blood. "DON'T RETREAT! PUSH THEM FORWARD!" He called out, before holding up the banner and racing forward with it in gloved hands. The banner caught high in the breeze and waved proudly. Another sign of hope and the honour of the once assigned carrier. Eamonn stopped, and with the spear, he smacked one across the face with the but of the weapon, before thrusting the tip forward and into the man's chest. Snatching it back out, the the banner was raised again as he charged forward, and as if the men had a rekindled flame of hope, they followed. Blood upon the tip gleamed, for the Griffin had tasted it's victim and served justice.

Beathag: Adam lifted his sword and cried out, " Stay with your arms! Follow, Follow!" He followed his brother-in-law to the ends of this field, this battle! The world slowed one more time..one more image to remember. Pherson was so close, so close to his escape but it was thrwarted by pikeman's spears. Her eyes narrowed and the cry that tore out of her body made the air around them quake. Finbar defended his rider's back..and to make sure the horse was not caught unwares, Caldonhan bucked at the archers. The quiver was empty, the bow tossed aside, and all that was left to grabe now was at the weapons of the fallen all around them. Some went to Eamonn, other's stood amay, as if in one last debate..to kill their cousins, brothers, to kill their countrymen weighed heavy in their hearts. The tip of the spear. Not that sword, nor the axe, and the empty quiver stood a chance.." TAE HONOR! FOLLOW YOUR MARSHALL! YOUR DUKE! FOLLOW YE LORDS AND I WILL GAE WITH YE!" Reaching down to her feet..she pulled up the burned remains of Scotland's flag, " FOR YOUR MOTHER COUNTRY! LET NAY MAN BETRAY HER!" With sword to her back, she carried that flag forward, and only that in her hands as Pherson had been. (d

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The Robertson's Join With the Griffin

Caden Comes to His Own

Beathag: "Where is Caden," the Duchess said to one healer, two
already could give no answer. A third would be unexceptable by any standard. "Come now! Where beh Caden Robertson?" She played with the edges of a tentflap, idily letting the wind whipped canvas slip over calluses. A familiar, stiffface expression drew up the worry lines. Dirt was in the crevices, driedblood in the cracks of her fingernails, but she cared little for the aesthetics of her appearence.Death had come to collect many young men from the field, some as young as twelve. (d)

Caden: The healer bowed her head. "This way M'Lady" She lead Lady Bess down to a further tent a little off by itself. She pulled back the entrance flap to allow Bess to enter then turned to leave once her Ladyship was inside. The tent was dimly lit with candles and young Caden lay on a cot. A white bandagearound his temple, a graze from an arrow, and hisarm was bandaged tightly His shirt lay across a nearby chair the left armcut and bloodied other stains as well dotted the linen shirt. The covers were drawn to his waist covering him from the waist down but from the waist up hewas bare. Several smaller nicks and bruises could be seen but nothing life threatening. As he heard footsteps he turned his head towards the entrance and offered Bess a smile. " Good morn M'Lady." His voice was lightly cracked
from lack of drink and laced with a little pain as well as he tried to sit up.(d)

Beathag: Beathag gave a curt nod of her head. She didn't thank the healer for what should have been done already, instead, she thanked the Gods above them that Caden was kept in the annuals of good grace that he might be spared. Religion was finicky, taken up by some in half assed stints when it suited. The Gods of ancestors sung in the symphony of warrior's bloocoursing in the veins. Remembering the men speak of an all father, women
who gave homage to the Goddess' name, a mixture of the two was invoked in the candle light to guard the young man within. Issuing out a sigh, she returned his words with her own, "Good mornin' Caden, how dae ye feel." Her hands came to his chest to stop the forced motion, helping him to lay his back against propped pillows instead. (d)

Caden: The hand on his chest had him resting back while blue eyes flickered upwards to meet her gaze. " I feel like I was trampled under the hooves of m'horse." He said with a half grin. " I blacked out, how did th' rest of the fighting go? How many were lost?" He frowned a little concerned. His eyes unfocused for a moment remembering the first rush into
battle, The thunder of hooves the clang of metal upon metal. The sight of familliar faces, faces he had seen before as a boy as he entered the villiages surrounding Struan. Faces that did not belong to the Robertsons much to his relief as his sword moved in automatic parry as one bore down upon him. A man double his size and height. Even his horse was bigger then the half
arabian half friesian the boy rode. He shook his head ridding him of the memory for the moment his eyes refocusing on Bess. " And you M'Lady, you are not injured?"(d)

Beathag: "Tis not wot I be nay used tae, Caden," she gave him the truth with nonchalant air, "Wot more can m'own countrymen give meh wot I haven't worn already these many years?" The fields and groves of Struan had been pregnant with disdain. Men seemed to come out of the shadows comprised of the darker elements, fall from behind the starshade of the evening sky.
Blood tainted the opening of new, virgin blossoms as rivers formed the earth refused to suck in, leaving puddles as the bodies collected under the torn ramparts of either side of this cause. Beathag had looked for Caden but seenonly a glimmer of him in the melee. Before that? He had ridden near her and
was silent, she inquiring if he could do such a duty on the land of his home. He didn't shirk. None of them did. She saw boys become men and men become less than human. "Ye made it through right well for ye first battle.They say ye'll heal alright." (d)


Caden: He smiled warmly. " Aye bu' then I had much tae fight for." He nodded firmly. " I did not get hurt that badly... just the strike of the arrow against my head, mingled with the pain in m'arm rendered me out of it after a while.." He pauses and looked up at her. " M'Horse? Did he make it ou' of the fray?" He had fallen from the beast and then seen someone else leap onto the gelding's back. Who it was Caden did not know.The colors of the rider had been too blurred to see for sure. (d)

Beathag: "He is well. Saw ye horse afore I saw ye, disturbed meh ye were nay with the creature. Calm.." Beathag instructed him to be at ease so he wouldn't make simple wounds worse. Reaching to the nearby table, she dipped a ladle into bucket of cool water for him to sip."Ye've fought well, twill be ye first o' many battles. After a taste o' this, will ye continue down this path?" If he didn't, she would understand. It was to make sure this was what he truly wanted. "I be nay a man o' the military, but I know once ye lift sword tis blessin n' bane all in the same turn, and ye must take it with equal measure." (d)

Caden: "Taking a life while saving a life, that is wha' war is. I
do not relish what I did yesterday, three men tha' I know of went down against m'blade. But when you weigh the odds M'Lady. I would rather loosemy life tae protect yours and the freedom you and Lord Adam offer." He spoke with pride as he answered her question. Nodding in the knowlege that his
horse was fine. He would have to see about purchasing the animal from the stable master when they got back home. (d)

Beathag: " Ye've weighed the pros n' cons. Ye are takin in this more than any trainin' with dummy can e'er be given tae ye." Freedom had cost.Blood purchased what they held dear, an unescapable fact. Putting the ladleto his lips, she waited for him to indulge in the cool, clear refreshment the round portion held for his parched throat. "We will be gaein' South next,Caden," said the Duchess to a warrior, " Tae Sleat. Tae face the MacDonald's
o' the South and their allied MacKinnons." (d)

Caden: He sipped greatfully from the ladel taking what he needed. Then nodded in agreement. " Aye then I will ride with you." His blue eyes met hers silently begging her not to make him stay behind. Before anymore words could be spoken though the called warning of riders apporaching wearing clan colors shifted through the camp. Caden frowned and looked to
Bess. Already he had begun to move pulling the blanket back to reveal his leather clad legs as he reached for his shirt. (d)

Beathag: "Aye then." He wouldn't be left behind to mull in dispair
while others sought the glory he'd rightly earned. Green eyes made him a silent promise before they cut away to the flap of the tent. The soldiers were becoming active, healers were coming around flaps to see what news might be brought. She put a hand to him, firmly, so he would stay where he was. "They
be' ridin' close tae see wot words can be reached, iffn any. Dun undo the healer's work yet. Stay there, lemme gae and see." (d)

Caden: He frowned but considered it an order and though unhappy about complying he did he lay back but blue eyes went to the flap. A buzzwent up as one rider dismounted and approached the camp demanding to see theLord and or Lady knowing full well that one or both were present. (d)

Beathag: "Ye tell him he may demand nothin' from us, take him tae one o' the vacant tents, Ah shall be along." Adam wasn't going to be ordered around by anyone coming into his camp. No one!.. "Wot is gaein on?" "They want tae talk tae us, Bessie Eve. Nay doubt they have demands..." Her head moved from side to side as eyes turned slow, cautious, to follow the steps of the tartan covered men to the place of meeting. "Ah shall be with ye, Adam, ye know tha'." A wife reached out to touch her husband's shoulder, but a Duchess would lower bow to her Duke as formality would require. Adam gave his wife a half smile, all that time permitted, before her turned on his heel to leave. (d)

Jonas Robertson: The tall knight sporting the Robertson colors of blue, green, and red followed the lad that would lead him to an empty tent. There he paced, his dark head down his grizzled face worried while he waited. He dare not speak freely to any but the Lord and Lady as was his father's demand while he found out what the status of young Caden was. (d)

Adam:The Griffin Lord pushed aside the tent flap to look at who
had "Demanded" anything of him. He pushed his hand back into his hair though it did little good. Curls were heavy with oil and sweat, falling wherever they would with the element's weight. " What dae ye want?"

Beathag: "Caden, Ah'll beh back n' we will talk more about Sleat then. Rest. M'station calls tae meh." One of the men came to escort her, andsoon she came upon the meeting already thick with anxiety. (d)

Caden: Caden nodded in agreement to her his head resting back on the pillow afterwards.

Jonas Robertson: Inside the tent the tall knight stopped as the Duke entered. He bowed respectfully. " Goo' Morn M'Lord. I appologize for being sae insistant, tis worry tha' roils in m'belly and sometimes causes rashactions. " He rose from his bow and offered his hand. " I be Jonas Robertson, one of Laird Alexander's son's and young Caden's Uncle. I heard tha' he took a fall, is he alright?" That voice was low and gravely as he spoke asif too many whiskey's had been poured down an unprepared throat.(d)

Beathag: Beathag saw Adam's hands. Clenching, opening, clenching. The action was repeated over and over again. " Ye come seekin' knowledge o' young Caden, good Jonas?" Brogue made an unusual bit of sweetness to soften the ire in the moment. Adam smiled at his wife thankfully as she went to
pour both men an ale from the pitcher on the table. "He beh restin' iffn ye wish tae see him, nothin' is life threatenin' and he shall make a full recovery.."(d)

Jonas Robertson: Jonas smiled at Bess dipping his head in respect to her. Then nodded. "Aye I came tae see M'Nephew and alsae tae offer m'alliance and services. M'Father has sent along a good fourty of our men and clansmen tae give aide." He accepted the ale greatfully as he glanced from one ruler to
the other. (d)

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Beathag: "We thank ye, though ye know ye be sendin' yah men intae a slaughter? The bastards are desperate. Butcherin' the young boys along with the men.." Mark, the young knight, lay on the brink of the unknown in a tent with the surgeons while Bess had told him of the brave banner carrier named Pherson who died defending his Lord. (d)

Jonas Robertson: " Aye m'Lord, we know. We know wha' ye stand for, and tha' and young Caden are why we are here. " (d)

Adam: "What do ye think, wife?"

Beathag: "Caden understands the path he beh on n' wot he ensures fer others, and how he does it. Tae have forty extra men with such an understandin n' their offerin shall beh fine by me, husband."

Adam: "There'll be nay official papers drawn up until our return tae Turas Lan, n' m'hope is ye all live long enough tae celebrate with us." The place he was in was dark with precious little light. He drank deep of the ale, before offering the man his hand to shake.

Beathag: "Thank ye." (d)

Jonas Robertson: Jonas reached out and shook his hand firmly. " We need nae paper tae bind our loyalties tae ye a handshake will dae and when it all is at an end we will all celebrate taegether." Jonas offered a warm smile thenturned to Bess. "would ye mind m'lady leading me tae m'nephew?" (d)

Beathag: "Nay, follow me," the handshake was what her eyes took in, noting that each man did not relinquish their hold right off, " Tis nay a problem at all. He will be glad tae see ye, nay doubt." A wife would lean to her husband, whispering words of love so that in the midst of turmoil his mind could find some peace. Winding a way through the camp, they soon came to the tent where Caden rested. (d)

Caden: Caden had been resting quietly but not asleep. He smiled when Bess reentered the tent, but his face lit up when he spotted his uncle. " Uncle Jonas!!!" The boy started to leap from the bed but when he sat up too fast he got dizzy and had to grip the edge of the cot to keep from falling over. The tall Robertson moved towards his Nephew and put hishand on his shoulder. " Ye hold it righ' there now boy, dun move till they
say ye can. " His voice was gruff but there was obviously deep affection there.(d)

Beathag: "Shall I be leavin' ye men be?" Her arms crossed underneath her bosom as she rested against the sturdy pole at the front of the entrance.He was so young, sheltered perhaps. She could still hear the boyish trill on his tongue at seeing this relation of his. (d)

Caden: A relation he had no clue was truely a relation. Caden
had started calling Jonas his Uncle from a very young age and Jonas never corrected him. Caden grinned at his Uncle then to Bess. " Nay m'Lady you can stay." The grin was boyish and showed the dimples in his cheeks and made him look even more a boy then the young man he was growing into. Jonas
looked at him and shook his head. " An' jus' how did ye ge' tha' bump on yer head hmm? lookin' the wrong way?" The tone in his Uncle's voice made it obvious he was teasing the lad but the boy blushed any way. " Nay Uncle, at least to no fault of m'own. I was fightin one man while another took aim from th' trees." (d)

Beathag: She did not want to intrude on their union, but knowing of Caden's complicated lineage, she was happy to observe he would derive some joy from what would one day be trouble. Were the Robertsons of Struan still struggling among themselves over if the current chieftain or one of his bastard boys would have power, or did they lay it to rest to look at the killing fields on their doorsteps? She nodded,"Aye." On a stool in the
corner she took a seat so as not disturb their talk (d)

Jonas Robertson: Jonas frowned. " Tis a coward tha' would take aim at another from hiding." He glanced around. " They turned tail and ran aye? When they saw they would loose?" This questin directed at Bess. Caden leaned back onto his bed once more guided by a firm hand, and told to rest. Andwhere was Anna during all this. Trapped in Caden's room with poor Ruben
looking after her. Caden wondered about her briefly wondered if she was being nice to Ruben or if she had him once more climbering atop the Armoire in his room to get away from her playful antics. (d)

Beathag: "They gave quite a struggle afore they decided tae turn
tale, Jonas," the mutter was decisively low, a mind caught in the temptation of recalling too much. "M'husband is right, they are gaein tae do wot e'er they can tae gain an upper hand.(d)

Jonas Robertson:"M'Father is openinly showing where his alliance lies. He is nae a paltry laird tae mess with. Some migh' decide tha' if the Robertson's have joined with the Dutchy then mayhap their fight nae be worth it and switch sides." Jonas' voice was low and soothing meant to draw her mindfrom those memories and give her something else to focus on. (d)

Set In Her Way: " Tha' be if they haven't choosen sides already. We've several alliances: MacRae, MacGregor, MacLeod. Support o' those on the Isle n' on the mainland..the bloodshed will draw the definin' lines, better than mapsmen ink." She pulled from the pool of images at his voice, still watching as the image of her brother running with the banner on his spear into the forward
lines wavered into the present time. "Iffn they change sides it may be tae late. M'Lord will take on the family members tha' ne'er showed disloyalty n' will resituate the clans powers tha' be. Tis a time unlike any other, fast be realizin.." (d)

Jonas Robertson: Jonas nodded in agreement. " Aye, and now ye have one more strong clan behind ye tae add tae yer cause." He said with a bit of a smile. He glanced to Caden and noted the Lad had fallen asleep. He pulled the blankets up to keep him warm in a tender gesture. "Of all m'nieces and nephews
he be m'favorite. I would lay my life on th' line for this young lad." He said almost absently as if he were half speaking to himself. (d)

Beathag: "He became a man on the field," Beathag nodded over to the sleeping Caden, "N' he became so willingly. He will make a good knight, but more important he beh a good person." In and out. Breath steadily made a rhythm as calm took fold of the tent. (d)

Jonas: Jonas smiled. " Aye. I could nae be more proud of him,
nore love him more if he were m' own son." He glanced from the sleeping Caden to Bess. " I trained him m'self, on how tae wield a sword, how tae dae battle. Practicing does nae prepare ye for it though. The smells the fear,the anger and rage, the desperation, the drive tae survive. Tha' issomething ye have tae learn from experience, bu' I prepared him as best I could, knowing one day he migh' have tae figh' his own battles. Tis glad I am tha'he chose tae figh' for ye. " He spoke this all quietly so as not to disturb Caden." (D)

Beathag: " He did sae o' his own accord. Wot is odd o' children is
nay matter wot we teach them or know they can dae tae see it come intae bein' in their own acts..tis somethin incredible." She watched Caden with the eyes of a woman who lacked the sight of her own children. Giving a smile, she wondered what Aodhan would be like at Caden's age, a great many years fromthe five he had lived so far. (d)

Jonas Robertson: He smiled a little and nodded. " Aye. He be a fine young man." he looked up from Caden once more and whispered even softer. " His Da would be proud of him." He stood then and moved about the room straightening things a little. A nervous habit it seemed like. As if something suddenly
bothered him. (d)

Beathag: "He is a fine son fer any man's lineage, n' his spirit nay
doubt is proud o' him in places beyond.." Nothing was dirty in Caden's tent. The Healers in Turas Lan were a particular, finicky breed who were cleaner than most healers inthe Celtic nations. Smell of soaps, rosemary cleansing incense, and fresh water permeated the air. (d)

Jonas Robertson: "Sae ye know?" He asked quietly. He was fairly certain his father had explained some of the boy's lineage to the Duke and Dutchess. But he could not be certain without actually reading the missive. He glanced to Caden to make sure he still slept, and while the boy bore a frown on his brow it was obvious he slept. (d)

Beathag: "Ah do." She gave a nod of head, whispering low enough for her brogue to slip just barely into his ear, and only his ear. A healer came in to check on the patient, taking his pulse before giving a nod to those gathered inside. After slipping out, she adjusted the flap on the tent so it
blocked hte outside world. (d)

Aman-un-Din: The sound of hooves could be heard outside the encampment, followed by the loud whinning of a horse. Black. The Arabian stallion snorted and and reared his proud head high as the reins were tugged to a sharp halt. The tall rider waswas garbed in black robes not of these lands, a turban sat upon his head, though dark waves of ebony came down to shoulders freely. The dark cloth covered the lower portion of his features, and for the time, hiding the symbols on his cheek bones. With the stallion halted, he swung from the back of the horse and landed gracefully upon the ground. "Assalaam. Peace, friend. I come to see audience with the Lady Beathag." Announced the
lofty Arab, brown eyesglancing this way and that with a hand placed casually upon the hilt of the Persian scimitar. Aman-ud-Din knew that the lady could not stay away from the fight, and while the children were safe in Turas Lan, he came here in matters that concerned the Lord and Lady.

Jonas: Jonas paused in his steps. " I will le' him sleep for now. gae and get m'men settled if ye dae nae mind M'Lady."(d)

Beathag: "I dun mind at all..he will nay be wakin up anytime soon.." She stood up from her chair as the quiet was broken by the approach of another horse. What else could disturb them? Tensing, she would relax when she heard the guard speaking to her advisor. It was an unexpected, but welcomesuprise! So many things were happening..would happen, that would make the Highlander crave word from his strong, still mind. "Iffn ye will execuse me...m'advisor has come tae the encampment, Jonas." She would give a bow to the man of Clan Robertson, before leaving him in his nephews tent to see the Arab that awaited her outside (d)

Aman-un-Din: War had gripped the lands, and it sickened Aman-ud-Din to know the number of lives lost in the skirmishes that had taken place. However, he was glad to know that at least the more monumental figures were still alive and well. That was good news among the bad. Salah al Din snorted and flattened his ears to any that got too close. Fiery horse, he was, as it was a common trait of the Arabian stallions. But they had a strength to them despite their shortness compare to the other light horses of Europe. Aman-ud-Din waited silently for the Lady to finish her meeting with another, and when hedid see her, he bowed at the waist respectfully. "Masah al khair, Lady Beathag. I have come to record the happenings of the war...as well as the number of casualties. Though, if you are in need of another sword, mine has not completely gone out of service." He stated, accent think in the different language of these people called Scots. The turban and cloth were not removed from his head, for he had not the time for such a petty thing, there moreimportant matters, and he cared not for who's eyes lingered and looked upon his...unique attire.

Jonas Robertson: Jonas nodded to the lady bowing as she left. He spared one last glance to his sleeping nephew then slipped out as well. He gave a brief nod to Aman his grey eyes curious but naught was asked nore did hisgaze rudely linger hesimply pressed on towards his men, 40 in all gathered stillsitting on their restive horses to hear of their next orders. He told them to dismount and make camp for the night. (d)

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Why Do We Go to War?

Aislin: Steps took her around the campire areas slowly, that hat was pulled down lower and her hair was made sure to be tucked in even more so then it had been, not wanting one strand of chestnut and onyx blend to give her away to anyone. Dmitirii lay asleep within the tent that was used for the healers. He would make it, she had made sure of it with her own two hands. The blood had long since dried on her body and clothing, making that iron smell hard to get use to and the feeling of it on her skin was even worse. It was different when she was trying to save someone's life, but taking it away, well..the blood simply felt heavier on her. The only thing going through her mind was that she had to avoid another chance run in with Eamonn for lady luck had been on her side when he called her a boy. Everything weighed her down. The daggers at her hips were heavy, the sword on her side swung and smacked her leg over and over again, the bow's string felt like it was cutting into her shoulder as she held it and moved past fires were men talked of nearly loosing their lives this day, of home or the food they were forced to eat. She kept moving, avoding everyone as she moved past tents..not sure where she was going to sleep tonight. It was the farthest thing from her mind by now though..even as her body cried out for it. So this..was what it was like to be her husband..and she had only seen a day.

Beathag: "Ye recordin' and ye sword shall both come intae use, m'friend. See tae it the Advisor be givin' place tae dae his duties n' peace at once!" She turned over her shoulder to give the order to the nearest guard. A piece of leather thong waved on the back of sun baked shoulders. Freckles spayed out across the reddening, puckering flesh as scar tissue was stretched to the limits with the strenous movement. This was war, the reality of what it was to burden oneself with armor, weapons, and an ideal to fight for. Boys were dying around them. twelve, fourteen, fifteen..younger yet as pages were moving to the frontlines. Children hardly four years older than her own son. Would he be able to bear the weight of his dream? "There be much fer ye tae record. The Robertsons 'ave given us forty men n' an alliance on behalf o' the fact young master Caden has come tae fight." She pushed hair out of her eyes as she smiled to the Advisor, "Come, let us get ye settled, I'm certain Adam will want tae see ye." (d)

Aman-un-Din: Another nod was given to the man Jonas as he left counsel with the lady, before brown eyes turned back to the blonde woman before him. There had been much talk of the war in the city, how many had fallen, who had fallen, and what would become of the people of Skye. Would they fall into the hands of gluttonous clansmen? Aman-ud-Din could only hope the answer to these would be little and ensure peace. He sought answers, and more importantly to lend a sword and skill to the cause instead of a boy no older than Tahirah. "So it seems that Skye is not alone in this matter. That is good news, indeed." Keen eyes looked over the blonde warrior woman, and he sighed softly to himself. Women were not meant to be on the front lines, but this was not his lands of birth, where the roles were different. So, his comment had little value here. "Perhaps the lady should take this time to rest. I am sure another guard can take me to Lord Adam's tent."

Beathag: Questions, questions. People had a right to know what was truth and false of what they coversated in. Her ears burned at night, often wondering if those left behind sat around tables with their suppers, or the lists of names. Who could see the dead over the miles between Turas Lan and Struan? If rivers ran red than the blood of Struan would define every line on the map between here and the continent of Europe. Beathag shook her head with a wayward grin,"Nay, come. I've rested already yestereve enough..lemme show ye tae Adam." (d)

Aman-un-Din: Trust Bess to be stubborn like her brother. With a light sigh, he smirked faintly, though it could not been seen behind the cloth that covered his lower facial features. Bess was going to wear herself out again, though she would notknow it. Sometimes, the lady did more than she need to do, but would she listen or do anything otherwise? Not likely. Such was the Bess he had come to know personally over the course of more than half a year. But he was here for a purpose, and he would see it done. If rivers did run red, the whole world would be flooded crimsons. Thanks to God, the waters washed away the pain that had been spilt over centuries of warfare and bloodshed. Nodding lightly, he agreed. "It seems there is no swaying your mind, Lady Beathag." He wanted to chuckle, but seeing his friends so beaten and worn by war nipped at his heart. However, he masked it well and followed Bess to the tent of her husband.

Beathag: "M'mind can nay be swayed fer iffn it could there would be nay firmness n' m'rule," Her stride was long, taking her easily from one end of the encampment to the other. Tips of bandages at the wrist were show, revealed fully as she unabashedly cuffed up her sleeves. What would it have been, to know her five, ten, nearly twenty years ago? Did she bleed then, too? "He beh right o'er yon" Hand pulled back the flap to reveal where Adam sat with a long overdue meal. He rose at the presence of his wife, and she would cant her head to him. How long had it been since she was able to be only his wife, and not the harbringer of steel? (d)

Aman-un-Din: And there lay some truth to her words. If her mind could be swayed or bought, then there would be no firmness in her ruling. However, she needed to be in one place to rule at a time, Turas Lan needed her, but how could Aman-ud-Din convince her of a different deed? Bess was a fighter, she loved to be within the fray to settle it herself. The lofty Arab followed behind her like a looming shadow. When they came upon the tent of Adam, he thanked Bess again, and stepped within. A respectful bow was given to the man, for he was Lord still, and even friends showed respect properly. "Evening, Adam." He greeted.

Aislin: A laugh was missed, a snort taken for granted and a word of advice thrown away. Aislin did not pine over tbe small things, but she missed her daughter and had now wished she would have tried to talk to her husband. Time and the threat of death were wonderous things. The prospectives changed and things grew more serious. Eamonn. Shaking her head, that straw hat moved left to right as she shifted and moved her weak and shaking hand to the handle of her sword to stop it from rubbing and pressing into her leg as she walked on. She paused for but a moment to warm her hands by a open flame that only two others shared before moving on, not wanting anyone to notice her woman features. Passing by the tent to her right, she paused right before the slits that opened it when she heard familiar voices. Bess, Adam and Aman-ud-Din, but no Eamonn. Still she was not going to venture in.

Beathag: "It's good ye've come, Aman-un-Din! Tha' is a good sight ye, twill keep m'lady wife n' myself from goin tae mad. Wot say ye, Bessie Eve, shall we keep him close?" Adam stood upright to greet the Advisor, offering a hand out for his warrior wife to take. "I married a damn Valkeryie." He sighed, kissing her brow and saying, "Still, I do nay want her goin' South, but there are appointments there wot need be kept. I will have her closely watched. Woman, ye need to learn to stay home. Damn our titles, ye have no hearth to stir." "Och, if only twere sae simple. Ah did try now," A joke? Humor, no matter how black the source was cleaved to. "Ye went n' got yeself intae some trouble, all wot happened tae me is someone mistook meh for a pin cushion..wot else beh new?" A pin cushion, with daggers as the needles? Why not. Awry, unorthodox. (d)

Aman-un-Din: To Adam he smirked a bit beyond the cloth covering his lower face. Bess did belong at home to help the people there, but there was nothing that could be done right now about it. "It is good to see you well, Adam." Came the Arab's reply. Valkeryie? Was that of Norse mythology? Oh well, he would inquire as to the origins of that later. A pin cushion? Oh dear. Aman-ud-Din shook his head. Both of these people here were crazy. Meanwhile, Salah al Din stood outside the tent and waited for his rider. As the black Arabian stood there, another came close, and from the smell of it, there was a familiarity. The stallion snorted and stepped closer, nudging Aislin with his muzzle. What was she doing here? Whining again, the Arabian stomped his foot and pushed her again, making a scene. Hearing his steed fussing outside, he turned, and moved to the flap. Pushing it open, a thick brow arched. Aislin? Eyes narrowed as he looked a bit closer. "...Have you had enough of your understanding?" He whispered to her, before glancing to Beathag and Adam over his shoulder. If she did not want to be seen, she should not have stopped at this tent. Silently, he wondered if she ran into her husband yet.

Aislin: Aislin had been trying to aviod the humans, knowing if anyone she knew spotted her, they would take her to her husband or sister in law and things would get bad then. To her surprise, the person that busted her was no person at all.Salah al Din knew Aislin very well from the time spent with her and Echo while Aman-ud-Din took brief escort position with her. In the dark, she had not know it was him, or perhaps she was not looking hard enough. That was when the nudge came and Aislin sighed before pushing the horses large head from her path so she could keep moving. She did not want to linger. "Ack...hush ye beast..ye be getting us both- " just then the flap came open and Aman-ud-Din's face came into view, pausing Aislin as Salah al Din began to nibble on her shoulder, letting lips pull back and try to cup the material of the tunic. " Nay a time to be joking with me Aman-ud-Din. ye are going to draw attention to me as ye horse just did. We shall speak later..meet me by the healers tent. Off with ye now.." she whispered, gritting her teeth before she started to head away.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Beathag: Stolen affections, stolen time. For him to merely kiss her was a blessing in the war ravaged world that supported their idealism. She paid a cost for accepting gold on her head and did it gladly, but it was no easier to know they had taken so little time together since their wedding night. What would tear her eyes from his? Adam would tap her arm to try and detract her..half giggling, half worried at what the advisor was gawking at. Given she was a tall woman it wasn't hard to see around Aman-un-Din..what.. what? "Aman-un-Din..who be ye talkin' tae?" A silly, rhetorical question! She quick stepped over the furs lining the floor. From the darkened fold shone two green eyes catching the oceanic gaze. "Ye can nay tell me ye be tha' brazen n' tha' foolish..Gods...wot the...both o' ye get the 'ell in here and dun tell me nay, either.." (d)

Aman-un-Din: But the prideful stallion would not be silenced. He knew this woman, so why was she lingering outside? It made him frown and the stubborn horse snorted. She tried to keep moving, but why? The horse did not understand. However, Aman-ud-Din knew well enough. Aislin should not be here, but she wanted to make an experiment to better understand her husband. Lips pressed together as he gazed down at her. The lofty Arab was not joking, for there was great gravity in his words to her, though no expression could be seen through the cloth over his lower face. Busted. Of with him? Aman-ud-Din blinked. Shaking his head, he turned, only to see Bess coming this way. Aislin better walk faster! Too late. Sighing, he held the tent flap open for Aislin to enter.

Aislin: Why was it that horses always seemed to put the light on Aislin! they never had been attracted to her before and now, Finbar could spot her in a crowd, Echo would charge over people to get to her and Salah al Din was helping her to get into trouble. Aman-ud-Din just sealed their fates! Her flat expressioned face turned to see Bess' move from between the flaps and look to her. The shock, was one she expected, same with the words. Eamonn was not in the tent, and Aislin would have took off running had she not thought Bess would tell. It would be better to go inside and see if she could convince her not to tell instead of running. That serious and calm look was held to her face as she moved right up to Aman-ud-Din and looked to his darker eyes with that cloth around them to hide his face. Finally, her eyes left his and she moved forward and into the tent. Adam did not seem surprised. Her stance became that of a man as her legs parted slightly and arms crossed over her bound chest as she waited. "Ah have nay come in here for a lecture, but if ye wish for a explination..ye shall have it." it was not said in a smug manner, simply in truth.

Beathag: Her foot began to tap out a rhythm of impatience. What tale would make this come in the light?: When Adam only sighed and turned his face, scratching his head, he knew his wife would have a few choice words for him later! "Aislin, first thing ye need tae know, iffn ye are gaein tae stay," she puncuated the last,"now's not the time tae turn intae a pain in the ass." Hands propped to her hips, letting unbound bosms remain plain. The furrow was freckled and heartily sunburned. Giving a sigh, she shut her eyes and muttered, "Why did ye nay say anythin tae meh, either o' ye? Dae ye realize the posistion ye've straddled Adam and Aman in? Let us nay e'en mention m'self but tha' is beside the point now. Ye know I sae ye husband's face gae pale as a ghost when they said they could nay find ye, and ye be here? " They were all very good questions, and Bess didn't plan on telling her why she shouldn't be. It was Aislin's right to come if she chose. Her posistion as a healer let alone a woman of arms entitled her to that. But this was not the way to go about it. Eamonn needed to learn to accept fact even if he'd never tolerate it, and the man had gone through enough of late. (d)

Ophelia: Having seen to her own wounds, for the most part, Ophelia now rested nearby, sitting quietly on a saddle blanket enjoying the warmth of a cheery fire. Her fair countenance was contemplative, her long, slight legs drawn up to her chest, slender arms hugged them as her chin rested on her knees. Those vibrant eyes were consumed in watching the fire's dance as whatever thoughts possessed her mind took their course. -d-

Aislin: Aislin held no expression to Bess' first words, or any after that. Her face was held perfectly calm, seeing and feeling no outward emotions like Bess was, so there was none left to display. Did she know her husband went pale when they could not find her? Of course not. She was not there to see it. Did she realize the postion she had put others in? Yes. " Ah nay need ye to be telling me such. Ah nay be a young woman as some of the others ah saw running about'ere. No one needs to be in any trouble save me, for IF Eamonn finds out..ah shall be the one to suffer his rath. Of that ah have made sure. He can nay pin this on anyone but me. All ye need to do is pretend ye never saw me. It be that simple. Adam was never my guardian and he did not know until now ah be sure. Aman-ud-Din gave up such duties some time ago. Ah have nay left without thought behind this Bess. Ah been plotting this for some time now. Weeks. "

Beathag: "Tis nay tha' simple Aislin, and best ye realize tha' iffn ye will be in war nothin' is e'er as black and white. Things may happen n' truth is everythin'. He may have been ye husband long afore he was m'brother but he is m'brother and ye? Ye are mah sister. " She would sit down in a chair, a rare luxury as she pondered this situation in her mind. " Fer daein this, I be proud o' ye. Let me say tha' now, as foolish n' stupid..yes, stupid, as it be, I be proud o' ye fer survivin' this far. Now ye live through the campaign south, n' ye keep tha' farce n' I've nay tae time be frettin up the Marshall when he'll be needin' his focus. Mah stern suggestion for ye is tha' ye take this in completley, n' nay with just ye mind. But with this." Her hand came to her chest, " A warrior is nay just aim, n' precision, a warrior is this. Feel why ye are here, let it bleed intae ye n' use tha' as the fuel wot makes ye gae on." "Mmm..women. They catch me in odd places.." "Perhaps sae, but twill be a new time now. A mother will 'ave tae deal with her daughters as well as her son gaein' off tae war. Ah be honored tae fight beside m'sister, though ye needs be sure ye keep in one piece. Who else knows about this, tha' is imperative. Ye will be by them continously, they will be the only one tae keep ye secret iffn ye are wounded severely." (d)


Ophelia: A shiver ran down Ophelia's back as she glanced up at the moon, the celestial guardian high above that left them all awash in a resplendent silver glow. As she took note of it, she felt a certain degree of relief and her spirit lifted a bit. She'd always thought the moon held healing powers of some kind, but never before now had she really needed the added strength and fortitude. A weary smile lifted the corners of her cherry-hued lips as she sighed a little, still somewhat in awe of battle and war.-d-

Aman-un-Din: There was no hiding it now, it seemed, for now Bess knew, and Adam did as well. The only person, now, who did not know she was present was the worried Marshal. Aislin had no idea how fearful he was for her sake, yet she was here in secrecy. Aman-ud-Din did not approve of it from the beginning, but could he stop her? No. There was nothing that he could do, save pray for her safe return. But did she truly understand the predicament she put those around her in? Aislin had an idea, but the Arab feared she had not the slighest comprehension to the extent. For the moment, he was silent, his hands placed behind his back as he stood still as stone. In his humble opinion, this was a foolish way to understand someone, but Aislin knew his disposition as it were, and he need not speak it again. Hands released themselves, and he folded them over his chest, glacing between the two.

Aislin: Bess' words were not ignored, for Aislin was looking right to her even if she did not respond by face or any outwards expression of emotion. Once, her ocean gaze shifted to Aman-ud-Din and then went to Adam. Is that how they felt? They worried that her actions would look badly on them or cause them grief and the wrath of her husband? Had she the right emotions..she was sure she would have been angered by that. She was not dead, nor was she seriously hurt she seriously hurt save for feeling sick. "Thank ye for saying ye be proud of me, but the act I did was one that others will look down on. I know and am willing to take such things due to this, however, is everyone truly so worried about my husband's wrath that they would think and feel such? No one will suffer it for my actions, for if I need to let my husband physically touch me in a unloving manner again ah shall. Ah came for my own reasons and found new ones along the way.
Ye words will nay fall on deaf ears Bess. My husband believes ah be home with our daughter on my tit...he will continue to believe such so he can do what he came here to do. Ah will do what ah did and if ah can help it..our paths will nay cross. Do nay worry...ah shall protect ye all from his wrath. Ah must go check on another and Echo to make sure she be out of sight. " she gave a curt nod of her chin towards Bess, Adam and then Aman-ud-Din before she turned to head towards the exit of the tent.

Beathag: "Stop" she said plain, indicative of the action the word implied to be heeded." While worried o' ye husband, lass, ye miss a vera important point. N' ye need tae hear it and fathom it afore ye gae. Wot e'er it is m'brother has done" She knew, the tone implied that much. It held no approval, but she could not offer remedy for that, "It has no brain' here. Wot e'er ye reasons fer bein' here pale vera little now. Our only reason for bein here now is tae stop them from takin' wot we all have fought for. I will look on ye for the merit o' ye actions as a warrior, nay as a woman nor a wife. But I be sayin I need tae know who else knows ye be here. Ye can nay stop rogue arrows Aislin, or swords, or horses, or all matter o' things. IF ye are hurt. IF? Ye need tae be cared for by someone who will nay betray your secret. Tha' secret, if unvieled can be a heavy price tae pay for YE..n' nay just with Eamonn. they will exploit that, if they know. Sae. I will nay be tellin m'brother, nor will anyone else, fer tha' matter. If anyone else knows, I be needin' a name, sae I can tell them tae continue tae have ye back at all costs. Lest ye get hurt n' they have tae unbind ye breasts. We will be gaein South next, ye will need keep this....up..fer a week more, mayhaps two." It seemed while calmly said, Aislin had a percpetion not wholly accurate to what was thought. She had a basic understanding, but didn't let it deepen. Had considered angles, but not as many more as she might have to make this idea as fleshed as possible. She leaned back into her chair, hiking up her sleeves to rewrap the scratches on her arms as she awaited an answer of some sort. Yes, in war, Aislin had to answer to other people, continually, and her way wasn't the only one (d)

Aman-un-Din: It was not the wrath of Eamonn that Aman-ud-Din feared. No, there was no fear from the Lord Marshal in his eyes or heart, but rather, there was fear for the safety of her and what would become of her husband and child if she should fall. Eamonn would never forgive himself if such happened, and that would haunt him for the rest of his days, however long they might be. It was unfair to Eamonn, but Aman-ud-Din promised Aislin he would not breath a word of it. "Aislin, I fear not the wrath of your husband, but the bane that shall befall him and your daughter should you perish. I thought no favour of this plan from its birth, but it is not my place to make to do anything. You know at least a part of the consequences, and that is better than blindly fighting or exploring something you know little about. Keep it in mind. We care about you and Eamonn both, dearly Aislin..as does he. Such was in his voice when he went looking for you before he left. I knew not at the time what was going on until a maid told me he nearly had a fit at your absence." The Arab bowed to them both, and before Bess gave her little speech to Aislin, he excused himself. He had much to do, and for how long he did not know.


Eamonn:So he left the tent and left the three to speak...Finbar trotted down the hill with Eamonn upon his back, the tall Marshall holding the reins with one hand. Behind him two riders caught up. His helm had been left in the tent while he and the horsemen went to scout the perimeters of the encampment. There was activity brewing, there was no doubt about that, but the location and to what extent remained a mystery. Reinging in his steed to a halt, Eamonn dismounted. "Where is the Lady Beathag and Adam? I have news to report." He said stiffly...

Aman-un-Din:Chocolate hued orbs blinked. Was that...? Eamonn. And he was heading toward the tent! Not good. Sighing softly, he turned and jogged back to the tent as fast as he could, rushing inside and closing the flaps behind him. "If you wish to keep it secret, I suggest you conceal yourself, Aislin...he is heading this way now."

[pattie]

DEATH OF THE DRAGON KNIGHT - LRD.MACGREGOR
[/b]


It had been many days since Duncan had seen his old friend -Andrew. Where in blazes was tha' man? He well knew he was fightin' side by side wit' Duke&Duchess. Brynna was nearly beside herself wit' worry. Moira tried ta comfort tha' poor lass, but nae a thin' helped her. [/b]


=- Tha' messenger stood at the doorway wit a missive for the Earl. Takin' tha' paper, he gave tha' boy 3 gold for his trouble. He grimaced, Andrew was dead. He gave tha' missive tae Brynna an' she wept, she had loved him as if he was her brother, but it went deep'r than tha'. Moira and himself knew this fer a fact.
The death 'o' tha' dragon knight would forever haunt Brynna. She had looked fer him fer days.
She had loved Andrew wit' a passion nae many felt or understood. He would be buried at Meggernie Castle in Argyll.
Brynna knew in her heart who killed him, it was nae done by a sword or hand.
Himself was shaken by his death, Moira stood wit' her husband, givin' support tha' way she always had seem tae do. Who would Brynna let in tae share her grief? Probably no one. Trust was an issue wit' her tha' went back many a year.
Moira would make sure his body was taken back to Argyll as she would accompany Brynna there. He would gone for some six weeks due to Clan business.
Rest in Peace Andrew. Ye will be sorely missed.=-

[Sir Dmitrii Zurban]

Dmitrii lay on the cot in the makeshift hospital. Sitting up with a groan, his side ached from the glancing blow of a broadsword; his thigh hurt from the reopened wound from the arrow; looking about the room of dying members of the Gryphon Army. The last thing he remembered was finding Adam and as he set about to report, everything after was a blank.

As he looked about him, he saw men with stumps for arms and legs… head wounds, and ailments not readily observed. “The price one pays for pursuing any profession, or calling, is an intimate knowledge of its ugly side.” A quote often heard from his mentor of his earlier years.

Moving his leg from the cot, he gritted his teeth and stood on the splinted leg. His twin swords lay under the cot, he picks them up and slings the harness upon his shoulder. Hobbling thru the makeshift hospital, he is attacked by a healer’s urging him back to bed… “Be gone woman, My Lord requires me…” said in a harsh voice, as the woman mumbled about warriors. Moments later, other knights and soldiers were following Dmitrii out of the hospital.

The Griffin Lord’s tent was a hive of activity when a man wearing two ornate twin swords entered. His limp and stained clothes a sure sign of the times. “M’Lord… I humbly request to be assigned to Vanguard…”

“Permission denied…” the man continued to look at the map without even looking up. Glancing only to the commanders at his side.

“M’Lord…I implore yu to reconsider…Tis the Vanguard I so desire assignment…” the Russian accent played heavily, the r’s rolling from his tongue.

“M’Lord Zurban… return tae yer command… tis the reserve faer yae… at least til yaer wounds a healed…” the once boyish face now bearded spoke his word to the Kievan Warrior.

“Nyet, M’Lord… tis yu need me in the Vanguard… I will report there…” the Kievan became frustrated…

“Dammit Dmitrii… Ah sait yae would be in reserve… why cannae ye just follow orders…” the Griffin Lord retorted, a bit frustrated himself.

Several curse words uttered in Russian as to the situation… “Pedzdyetz M’Lord……” as he was cut off by an angered Commander of Troops.

“Ye hard headed Rus… why cannae ye just follow orders… Damn Dmitrii… dae as yer told…” now it was his turn to be cut off by crossed arms of the Kievan… “OUT!! Everyone out Ah say…” a wave of his hand orders all from the tent… then he points to Dmitrii… ”Come here ye Kievan imbecile…”

“Adam… I beg ye M’Lord… assign me to the Vanguard where I belong… I have always been in the Vanguard, tis where I earn my keep.” The Rus warrior pleading his case.

“Dmitrii, ah need tae save ye for the final battle… if’en ah lose ye now… ah would lose a good warrior and a true friend… yer wounded, and even ye did well upon this field of battle, I need yu still… besides yu have shown me yer worth many times over...” Adam stroked his curly beard.

“Adam my brother in arms and best friend… I know where yu need me… I have demonstrated my worth… do me this favor… and I shall ever be indebted… I must be on the Vanguard… tis where I belong…” the Rus accent once again thick.

For over a half-hour, the two hard-headed friends argued the advantages and disadvantages of Dmitrii in reserve… both had raised voices as only friends could...not commander to subordinate, but friend to friend... “Damn yae Dmitrii Zurban… dunnae git yerself kilt… ah could nev’r forgive maeself… nor yae… Now git outta mae sight afore ah forget who ye are…”

Dmitrii smiled, receiving the assignment he had desired. He had not intended to upset Adam, but Adam was reserved to keep Dmitrii in the rear. But that would be like keeping himself, Eamonn or Bess in the rear… hence his allowance on terms.

Having reported to the Griffin Lord, receiving his orders, he sought out the commander of the Vanguard Battle, the premier division of the army that led into the battle. In the issuance of the orders, Dmitrii flatly refused to be assigned to the reserve… and argued his case, and with reluctance Adam allowed him to the Vanguard. With a satisfied growl, Dmitrii hobbled from Adam’s command tent.

Days before the journey to Sleat, Dmitrii had time to think, which with him was not all too often, pleasant. Sitting down by a tree, he stretched out the wounded leg and cursed. His thoughts soon began to rummage thru his mind. He had yet seen Kaelyn, and something inside him ached… he knew she was hurt… not dead, but injured… he could feel it. Then his thoughts wavered to the men who rode with him initially… they were dead… all six… then to Aislin… How was she? Had Lord Eamonn found out her secret yet? Would he blame Dmitrii? With a shrug, he didn’t really care… Aislin had fought extremely well… a sheer surprise… “Lord Eamonn should be proud,” he muttered in Russian.

Then all of a sudden, for no reason at all, his mind diverted itself to happier times, something that had not happened in a long time. First he thought of Queen Serena, the beautiful girl princess, who had grown into a beautiful queen, and her bairns three… then he thought of Kaelyn… and her impending marriage to Raven… for this he would be joyous whether he showed it or not… and then to a small girl upon the wall. Her speech was not of the nobles, yet she showed the strength of a warrior, for her own Father was on the battlefield as well… she had fought off attackers, and lived to tell the tale. Stroking the beard, that now had grown out a bit, upon his chin, he smiled… unsure what attracted him to her… A messenger’s arrival broke his train of thought… it was time for him to survey the Vanguard with the commander.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Adam stood over the table, looking at the large hand-drawn map. Riders would arrive and depart all day and night with news of movements, fortifications, and armament of Clansmen. He would smile at the thought that the clansmen were able to gather enough people to build an army… people so blinded that they could be so moved by false hopes, rumors, and lies. By providing Lord Marshall the information he had, he allowed Eamonn to control the Army as the high knight deemed necessary.

He and Bess were finally together, so to speak, but each had duties to perform… their evenings constantly interrupted by word of clansmen on the move. It appeared that the north was fully under Griffin control but the south continued to be a problem.

Cities and towns were sending out pleas for the Griffin Lord to come and free them of the clan tyranny… the largest request was from the Lord at Troddenish… it seemed that the clansmen had put martial law into effect and disbanded the rights of the people, forgoing the ruling government. But Sleat stood in its way… Sleat had the largest concentration of forces against the Griffin Lord, having lost Portree and Struan, it now pulled back their forces to Sleat in order to hold onto its grip upon the land.

In the evenings when the two lovers were alone, they would discuss and plan what they would do should they win, and also, in turn what would happen should they lose. Also, they would console each other regarding losses and laugh and tease at happenings that brought smiles to their faces.

Adam pointed to the map then moved small knights on horseback to Sleat and Troddenish… “There...” pointing to the later… “They will make their stand should we be successful at Sleat…” His eyes were red from getting little or no sleep… Bess was not in much better shape. If it were up to him, he would trade his position now for the rest of his life with lil Aodhan, Edme, and Bess… but he knew that if that were possible, he would not be where he is right now…

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The encampment was quiet, or as close to quiet as could be allowable in a war place. Around tiny fires men had gone to talking about what they left behind or hoped to obtain. Stopping on the borders of a conversation, the Duchess listened to a man who'd promised his sweetheart that with his earnings from the battle they could get married and erect a home in the middle of spring. The older men smoked pipes stuffed with mixed weed to take the blight out of their bruises, listening to the enamoured man of twenty go on about how he would have a table with bacon, mutton, and chicken that would feed all of them sooner than they thought. "Send me an invitation, boy! I'll bring some bread tae fill ye larder! No whores along the way though hmm?" Turning away, they talked about erect, stiff things in the pants to test that he had enough to give his wife before his wedding night. It wasn't the stuff of polite conversation, but it made them smile. Beathag would deprive no man of that.

After the crack of a loud tone came the wing beats of birds flying out of the grove. A deer, scared away by the skirmish, had returned to see what became of his home. By now the bodies were tarp covered and in the shade by the river, in the hopes the chill would keep them intact to be returned to families waiting. They were only twenty miles away from Turas Lan, if even that, but it seemed many more. Waving grass caught the eye, tinted with blood. Smoke columns carried sizzling fat with thick blubber. Enemy bodies were burned, a head or three returned to treacherous snakes to do with what they would.

"Sir MacGregor, Sir MacGregor has been found dead!" Suddenly, the break of the mutterings became a din of noise too loud to pick through. The calls of spring birds became lost in one cry of the blackbirds flying down to the edges of feet. MacGregor colors were on the outskirts of the camp, a wagon coming. Lifted body of the Dragon Knight standing out amid the dull grays, clinking chainmail, and the blood soaked, dirty black uniforms. Brynna's red hair made her heart sink. Flailing, whipping out infront of hollow eyes. "Gae, tell Brynna I give her leave tae mourn n' bury the dead. Lady MacRae is tae have charge o'er her tae make sure she remains healthy n' well. Agrieved hearts alone gae tae fast tae join those that leave the world."

When the Morrigu came to give her favor to a side, she came to collect favorites to serve her in the unseen. Was MacGregor the blood price? What of the others? He had a name that was no more important than any other name on the list of the dead, but the MacGregors had given of themselves in the name of the Griffin.

He was not the first, nor would he unfortunatly be the last.

[lizzie]

Her cheeks were dry now. Nae more cryin' tis a sign of weakness, her Da use tae say. If people thought she was distant 'afore, they had nae seen anythin' yet. She had decided tae nae attend Andrew's burial [/b]


* She would nae leave in tha' middle of a war! Andrew knew this tae be true. She had nae ever done tha' 'afore an' she would nae start now. It was her duty tae Adam & Bess. She had sworn her fealty tae them, besides, she was nae givin' up tha' chance tae kill a MacKinnon or a MacDonald. KILL! KILL! KILL! It was in her blood. An' she would nae rest until they all were dead and rottin' in a river somewhere. She was far more a killer than Zurban could thin' of bein'.
She had never trusted a soul until Andrew came along. He'd been a life long friend of Duncan's.
She would sae miss him.
She had made her decision long ago..she had sacrificed love and children fer tha' life of a warrior. She dinnae regret it one bit. Or did she? Who really knew wha' went through Brynna's mind?
Who even cared? Nae tae many, she chuckled tae herself.
Out of her pocket, she pulled a blue velvet box...inside was a diamond ring. She would give it tae Lady Moira tae put in Andrew's casket, fer she could nae do it. She had other gifts he had given her, this particular one was a MacGregor heirloom. It should go wit' him. *

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Brynna MacLeod was a stubborn woman, but at this point, what woman wasn't? When the cart holding MacGregor's body was stalled because a warrior did not want to leave battle, she would pull her aside to speak to her as a woman.

"Dun stay behind, Brynna. Ye will 'ave only once chance tae bury him n' one chance tae give him your heart tae take tae the places unseen. As a warrior ye commend ye fellow warrior 'pon his sacrifice. But as a woman, ye dae wot nay e'en a man can dae. This is tae open our hearts. It will ne'er be easy, Gods n' how I wish I could make it sae But nay e'en the laws m'husband makes will make it any easier tae bare witness tae women bleedin' pon the battlefield. But we can nay forget where we began. Gae, mourn him, bury him, say ye farewells. Twill be time yet tae come tae Sleat. Time yet tae stick ye blade in bodies."

"Just do nay let this time make ye forget how precious love is. When ye return, let him be your banner."

Silently, she began to thank the Gods that Eamonn took the banner in the grove and the desperate men had hope again or Adam could have well been laying in MacGregor's place.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Beathag: Aspiration came with one hell of a set of consequences, didn't it? It came in to shred whatever bit of happiness the soliders had put to themselves only to have it torn away by the revealing of a death. It wasn't that it was unknown for a man to die in war, but it was who the man was that cast such an ill-brewding cloud of the encampment. Andrew MacGregor was a well liked man. He was straight forward in his convinctions, firm in his stance, and true to his word. Around the fires tonight there would be talk of who knew him or the things he might have said. Dame Brynna had been more than his charge; a mournful cry revealed that much as she'd watched the body being put into the wagon to be driven away. "He be dead, his father be dead. Send word taenight tha' we needs reach at once their chosen tanist." Had they chosen one? Just when she felt like they had an upper hand Fate smacked it down. Only she could see the bruise, flexing the digits out before closing them around a mug of root-laced ale. Maybe the front was no place for a woman. Maybe a little ignorance would have done her mind good, but there was no turning back now. (d

Adam: The beard had grown to cover his face as it had long ago before coming to Scotland; curly and dark, his sea-green eyes peering between deepened sockets, the whites of his eyes streaked with red. Bent over the table, peering at the map; with each messenger, he moved a mounted knight upon the map. With each messenger, he would return words of safety, word of threat, and tell the carrier to be careful, reveal nothing.No written scrolls, no missives...by word of mouth would hecommit his commands. Standing only to stretch until another rider arrived. Tomas brought an ale to the Griffin Lord, still had blackbread left from earlier... a small break, he walked outside to breathe in fresh air...::::

Beathag: Fresh to a point -- the smell of burning fat had ended some hours before, leaving the fading remnant of smoke to mingle with the fresh water river, the grass, and the promise of rain. Could anything wash Struan clean? Skye? Question after question turned a dance in Beathag's mind until her eyes crossed with being mind-dizzy. The greens were closed against the images of the smith's anvil taking the dents out of armor, hands linking chainmail, and the look of a man who'd lost his arm. Her brow was clenched down for the muscles to apply pressure to the center of the brow where the tip of her finger rubbed until the tension subsided. Her headaches, ailments, and the litany of what was wrong was not as bad as it had been in Turas Lan. Why? Hell if she knew. "Got tired o' lookin at the lines, eh?" Never would she be too far gone or too much of anything to distinguish when her husband was approaching her (d)

Adam: What could one expect of the scene of a small but significant battle... one that turned clover fields to stained dirt... but nature had a way of overcoming anything man-made or man-destroyed... compared to the staleness of a tent, the air outside was refreshing... Breathing in the scent of campfires, the staleness of blood, the lingering odor of death... He was a battle-hardened knight... one that for many years fought the English alone... now he fights a different kind of war for different reasons... still he does like the clash of steel... the adrenaline rush of a good fight... his sea-green eyes look upon the encampment... he was proud of those that fought... regardless of the outcome... he would appreciate all they had done::::

Beathag: Eamonn said she wasn't a warrior. No, she had never conscripted to join the ranks of any man's army, nor was she given armor to wear when she was a girl. Her sex decreed that she might never been seen for what the title embued. The motives of a woman at war would always be second guessed. But she had seen women come to Struan, and seek no more or less than what the men were given. What a place, what a time, to be privy when women sought to defend their hearth in the open domain of men. She would never be a warrior in the sense of her brother, no. But she had bled for Scotland for years. She gave it her raped innocence, her tears, sweat, and often the sanctity of her body pillaged by war and strain on the spirit's behalf. Without saying another word, she let her body lean against his, daring to claim a moment. Her head resting to his shoulder. (d)

Adam: For the past few days they had been together... only interrupted by information of the clans... even what should have private time was shared. His promises of life together seemed far distant, only his smile was offered even in the busiest of times. They never spoke of his misjudgement of his early return to Turas Lan to see his ailing wife... nor did he discuss how she was wounded. Was there any reason? Nay, not now...maybe later int he years of old age during peactime...but nay now. All he did was enjoy the time each could spare... to breath her scent, even if it was tainted by others blood; he could tell the difference. A simple whisper and a hug... "Ah luv ye Bessie Eve... an' ah apologize..." ::::

Beathag: "Ye are the good in meh, Adam. Ah'm sorra tae." If they talked of nothing how could they apologize to one another? Adam didn't need to hear her say that she was sorry she got so mixed in with the lot of things, nor did he have to say he brought this on them with a mis-step. If he could have only seen how incensed, how determined she'd become at the mere mention of a trap closing on him..their bond was special. Married for far longer than the cathedral had recognized, they lingered in the gust of an evening breeze together. "Ah've missed the sound o' ye heart beat.." (d)

Adam: Kissing the top of her head, the full grown beard mixing dark brown with golden fleece, he mutters... "An' ah 'ave missed yae sae much... yae are mae strength..." a squeeze... "Faer a moment, in the grove, ah fought hard thinkin' ah would never se yae agin... then ah saw Dmitrii... that brazen maniac... then ah thouight maybe the gods, or whateentity controls us...would give mae a chance... then ah saw that glorious banner... an ah knew yae was nae far from it... ah just knew it:::

Beathag: "Nothin' can keep meh from ye nor m'kin. There is somethin' tae be said fer the times ye learn wot is most precious n' are reminded ne'er tae take it for granted. When Pherson fell...Eamonn took up his banner n' rallied those who thought it was the end. In tha' moment I knew. I knew we'd have one another again. Twas certain in the midst o' fightin, when nothin ought be. " Scratchy, thick curls pressed into her scalp but it felt like silk to her. His muttered, tired voice was like music. (d)

Adam: "When we get back...nae if...when... we need to plan a huge celebration... to commemorate the birth of a new Skye... to send out ships tae all parts o'the world for trade... and offereings of peace..." he hugged her tightly as if she would slip away should he loosen... "Ah think yu and I can start a merchant business liek we planned... but first I must finish the laws ah started..." ::::

Beathag: "Aye. Many, many good times wot tae make up fer all the bad o' now, sae the people may finally feel a sense o' happiness n' live in this world they've fought fer. Mm, we'll worry o'er the business later, Adam..e'en the laws we'll write tagether. Ye've a bad habit o' fallen asleep by the lantern n' the servants nearly have tae move the tallow candles tae keep 'em from drippin' on ye..but tha' is a bad habit we both 'ave," Her gruff, dried throat made the sound of a laugh, a hearty little chuckle as she tilted her lips up and kissed his cheek. " N' when we get back, Ah just first want tae hug m'children, n' kiss 'em, n' make ready tae markin' the fact our boy beh five years old. Tae old iffn ye ask meh," After what they had born witness to here, Aodhan would be given every tool necessary to see himself established in such a way that his dream would not pay forfeit before it even bore any fruit. (d)

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Adam: "Aye...that's right... and someone else is another year young tae..." Snuggling his beard to her face... kissing her cheek and whispering... "There is one candle ah'd like tae burn..." then he growls and pulls her in close...::::

Beathag: "Och, dun be tellin' me. Ah know she's nearin' a year, walkin', some part o' meh still sees tha' wee little thing wot was only a few months old." In the midst of Struan Grove, she gave a feminine sigh of a mother's heart. Ah, to see them grow so fast! Her mind was on childhood when his mind went to other matters! "Adam, ye wish tae burn tha' wick at both ends I be sure! Terrible.." (d)

Adam: He laughed for the first time since the war started... "Aye, ah be wwantin tae... and Nae Edme, mae luv...yae... dun ye say yer day is in Beltane? mabbe ye trying tae catch up tae me in years..." those tired seagreen eyes gave her a cheerful wink::::

Beathag: "Aye. Aodhan n' Ah be sharin' tha' day. Beltane. He was born 'pon the Beltane's eve, I came 'pon the day. Iffn this is wot 35 beh like, tis nay sae bad off. Catch up..Adam ye beh nay much older than mahself." She smiled wide for the first time since he had left for Struan, showing straight white teeth as lips parted away. It pulled at the laugh lines, so prominent now. (d)

Adam: A kiss... a kiss nae forgotten, but yearned more than before... that is how he kissed her... the shaven baby face of a younger man now traded places with the warhorse look of yesteryear... still the kiss between them was as virgin as the day of the first.:::

Beathag: Haggard, tired, dirty and aged woman was in place of the Lady Merchant he had come to court . Mud and blood caked under the nails that went through his thick curls in need of cutting, but to her they were as handsome as he man who had arrayed himself in his finest to seek out her hand from the King himself. (d)

Adam: In the meantime, men and horse had passed by... the pair stood outside the command tent...salutes offered their Lord and wife... not the commanders upon a field of battle, but one of respect..Next a messenger arrived, skidding the small horse to a halt.. then jumping off excited....:::

Beathag: It was a little hard to break her attention, given this was the first kiss, a sweet kiss, they had shared in almost in a fortnight. If any tried to gather their attention to the messenger, attempts would be laughed at by passing men. " Adam, Gods, Ah've missed ye kisses tae. Marriage n' agin' make ye all sweet in the thoughts.." (d)

Adam: Adam looked at Bess with a smile... "Aye luv...", then at the messenger... "Inside..." then reluctantly, they entered the tent... squires giving the rider drink... followed by a deep breath. "Slowly son, collect yaerself... then proceed..."

Beathag: "Aye.." Just like that, the world returned to the banal, vacant truth different than the tenderness they lavished on each other. Time wanted to be given back to other things, so with a sigh, Beathag pulled from her husband but only enough to still have his hand in hers. By now, it was common knowledge they took audiences together with unorthodox manner...

Messanger: "M'Lord... Sleat is divided... martial law has been instituted... and the local lord disposed... there are aggressive resistance to the clans, but the Lairds are merciless...the people are scared..." the messenger calls Adam's attention to the map.

Beathag: enough to still have his hand in hers. By now, it was common knowledge they took audiences together with unorthodox manner. Then talk of Sleat? Her face came turned to stone and she leaned forward to listen closely. That was where she was headed before Struan. Had her time North been for naught? (d)

Messanger: The messenger points to Trotternish... then to Sleat... "M'Lord...most of the clans have pulled back to Sleat...to thwarp any effort there...but they too are divided... they did not expect to lose so much in Portree and Struan... now they speak of Sleat... but my sources say that Trotternish is the fall back... if Sleat is taken... their forces will be cut by no less than half...::::

Beathag: "The MacDonald's of Sleat are the source o' the rebellion then, a great majority o' it. Tha' was their tartan out there agin us, n' MacKinnon tae. Sae tha' is the way o' it then..the deposed Lord is tha' boy Tial's uncle. Wot a fool I be! Shyte!" The map's lines were indicative of little more than motive. Battle was redrawing every single one. " Should 'ave had them all arrested sooner. Wot number are there forces, have ye tha' knowledge?" One almost hoped for a rhetorical answer to that. She crossed one leg's foot to rest on the opposite thigh, remembering word for word the audience she had with that man on the Laird of Sleat's behalf. (d)

Messanger: "M'Lord, I feel that if they lose Sleat...Trotternish is their last hope... but if they make ship... they would come back to haunt us..." The rider looked to the Lady... "I fear more 'en 400 hundred warrior... mostly foot... and more than 650 in Trotternish... no cavalry... more archers than Sleat... "Now I also know that Sleat has about 150 men in resistance there against the Laird... and 50 or so in Trotternish..." ::::

Beathag: "By the Crone..when did they 'ave time tae emass such a resistance?" The Duchess was taken aback by the staggering difference in the numbers of how many were for them, and how many ultimately against. Taking her ale, she drank deeper of the laced beverage to ensure her calm didn't break, or was that her resolve? What he was saying in certain terms was that if Struan was a trap, than Sleat was a pit they were all sliding down the hillside in to (d)

Messanger: Rider looks down... "My apologies M'Lady... but theEnglish are backing them... my sources say they promised the English a portion of the south and isles of Raasay..."::::

Beathag: The English? Down the hillside they went with the English holding the pikes at their backs! "Does it ne'er cease.." (d)

Adam: Adam snaps a look at them... "We shall cut this off first... I know those English... they fought against us before... they are more renegades than Kings men...Michael... ride back... tell yer sources that the English have no authority...that they are only mercenaries... then ride hard to Turas Lan... have Amand u din send word to the English King... that mercenaries have entered Skye under: English authority... if we can get word back from the Kinf if we can get word back from the King soon enough, maybe the English will leave... knowing they cannot get Scot lands..." :::

[lizzie]

She stood there listenin' tae Bess, tears streamin' down her cheeks. Freckles placed everywhere upon her tear stained face. She knew Bess was right. How could she not? [/b]


* She would go wit' Lady Moira, Lady Arian and Jemima. How could she say 'goodbye' tae a man she had known for years? A man she loved . How could she stand before tha' casket that held him stilled forevermore? She would take council from Lady Moira, but she would forever be haunted by his death.
Nae, save fer Bess, understood her the way he did. She had been his squire, much more than tha', she had been the love of his life.
An' wha' did she do? Tossed it away like it was paper. She hoped someday she could forgive herself fer bein' sae stupid and foolish.
When she returned from Argyll an' after tha' war had been settled
she would take some time off, return tae a private place tae mourn and grieve for Andrew.
She would return tae Oban, take refuge in The Monk's Abby. Learn tae fergive herself. Sir Mark was there now. A Templar Knight he was, but now a monk. He was an old friend of Andrew's an' Duncan's. It was tha' onla thin' left fer her tae do. *

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

There was never a way to really say goodbye. Never a proper manner, only ceremony that was writ out long before they set foot on the earth. He would always be with her. Beathag simply didn't want it to be as the ghost haunting her footsteps.

She had lived that way for thirteen years of her life, and it was not until the birth of Aodhan that the name Caibre MacMoriach was put to proper rest.

"Take him intae ye company, would ye, Caibre," she whispered when no one watched, "Ye were always sayin' the MacGregors were a fine set. Always sayin' it."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Once there was a woman from Aberdeenshire that became the wife of a Chieftain's son.

Late Summer, 1313

The English could make hide nor hair of the Gaelic spoken between the prisoners. All that mattered was the whet stone with the sound of the sharpened blade, and who's head was going underneath it next. Caibre MacMoriach, his tanist, and his uncle were in line to be executed in the name of the king.

"Do nay move Beathag! Do nay move..let 'em take meh. M'time is done. At least it was spent with ye. Tis nay a bad way tae gae," He struggled against the ropes, she against the men that had forced her to her knees. Caibre didn't want the fight to leave her, not now. She would need it. He couldn't stop them from taking her, but he could stop them from killing her now. "Nay price is tae much Beathag. Nay for ye. Nay for ye. Gae on now! Live, live damn it and dun let 'em take ye down. Yer the best part o' m'name!"

Holding the Lady MacMoriach was akin to holding a rabid, crazed hound. She snapped her teeth, hair seemed to cut skin as it spoked outward, and the muscles under her skin seemed to grow in each passing minute. By the time they had pulled her away, the sword was in the air. Husband and wife locked eyes..for the last time..and a cry tore out of her that no one that day would forget.

Ancient anguish. Almost prehistoric, as if she cried for the loss of every Celt before and aft of that moment.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

The next morning Adam is found by the squires and servants sitting at the makeshift table in the command tent. He has scribed a missive from the Lord of the Isles to the Marshal of The Scot Lowlands…

M’Lord Marshal,
I have been informed of a certain circumstance that I consider a grave concern. That is to find English troops supporting a Scot civil war ON Scot soil. Skye does not lay claim to England, nor England lay claim to Skye. Tis not England’s concern of internal strife. If England wishes to be involved, then our efforts to secure a peace is hereby negated. But should the English King wish peace at his back door, then he should remove the troops at once.

I am sending this letter to you as Marshal of the Scot Lowland and one copy to the English King. The civil war in Skye is our own concern and IF, should I find English soldiers, in any fashion, other than advisors, then they shall be treated as traitors as will others.

Consider this a promise, my word of honor, not a threat, that if English are involved, either by supplying arms or soldiers, or by making promises they cannot keep, I, Lord of the Isles, shall bring the war to the English and to England. To accomplish, I shall invoke the Auld Alliance against England. I feel that it is necessary to invoke all England’s influence to rid Skye of English forces, or mercenaries.

Adam Aberdeen
Lord Griffin of Scotland
Lord of the Isles

His seal of a gryphon pressed into the red wax... he handed it to the men. The riders, in receipt of the missives and two horses each, rode toward their destination. Adam stood outside the tent, his baritone voice soft… “Ride hard, deliver the missives of peace in time… and may it be fruitful.”