The Journey Forward - Rebellion *closed*

[Sir Kendrew Campbell]

Grace: Stepping from below deck Grace looked around for Ealora, the two of them had decieded that they would head back to shore to see where everyone was. The idea of returning to town made Grace's stomache flip flop but she only tightened her corset and headed off. Dressed in a white lacey blouse hanging off her shoulders and clinging to her pert chest, a burgundy waist cincher that accentuated her tiny waist and a black cotton skirt with layers of lace below that covered the two dirks that were tucked in each boot and the small sgina against her right thigh. Walking along the deck as she pulled her hair up and pinned it with a ebony hair comb she moved to where Ealora was standing and smiled a bit nervously. " So we are really going to walk into the jail to find this Kendrew fellow huh?" (d)

Ealora: It wasn't that trouble went looking for her, it just always seemed to find her. Especially when one looked for it. There was no way Ealora was leaving Shaden and the rest behind. Shaden was her best friend, the sister of her heart, Kendrew was her friend as well. The first to see past the rough exterior of a pirate and Maahes? Well who was she kidding. The love she beared for that man was written all over her face and even went as far as to affect her mood. So she would be damned to leave them behind. She wore pretty much the same outfit she had worn when in a dark mood. Slick black leggings that hugged tightly to slender thighs and shapely legs, the red embroidered cream shirt had been tucked into pants and the outter corset pulled on. She was bucking the last buckle when Grace appeared"Yes we are. Any luck and I'll get to have some fun"As honeyed voice flowed, she strapped on the a low hanging belt which when properly adjusted, hid two small daggers at her back. Hidden as she pulled the black Captains coat on etched with blood red markings. The final touch, she pulled back her hair and pinned it with a long hat pin needle looking thing. Another weapon, should she need it. Celadon eyes swept the girls attire. Hmm, well at least she might be able to distract the guards, with this in mind, she wouldn't argue."Lets go" Reaching out, she took hold of Grace's arm and lead her off the ship.*

Kendrew: Strip 'em, have the priest confess 'em and let's be done with the lot for the evenin' lads. He flinched; the cat-o-nine-tail kiss was being laced across the back of a poor man in the yards below. Flesh was being pulled from both muscle and bone. Against the wall he dug his nails in the dank moss on the wall as for every drop of his perspiration there would be a drop of blood to hit the stones outside. For his every flinch, there would be miserable yowls of pain. Put tha' ones hands on the pikes up above there, so they can be seen from the hill here! That'll show them what we do to the likes of traitors. Where's your precious Griffin now, eh?" To the whipped man they showed the severed hands of his comerade before throwing the whip across him again. Again! The corpse of the handless man came after his apendages to be quartered and taken across the country. The scapula in the back pulled in toward the spine as his muscle flexed on naked torso, for his shirt had been pulled away. It was full of perspiration, soaked with water. His hair still dripped from the latest show of Windmill Castle's hospitality, making the congealedclot above his eye run thin rivelets of red. "Twenty-Nine. Hey! Twenty-Nine Calls," This is what they called the man who was being charged with the deaths of Twenty-Nine souls he tried to save,"There's goin' to be one more tonight for the torchure, another for the death! A blinding, and a hanging! Red letter day for the Bruce wouldn't ye say?" He did not look to the guard as he kicked in a crust of bread or stale beer. He picked up the cup, tthrowing it agains tthe wall. His men were being torchured and killed...and he could do nothing for them (D)

Shaden: Shaden had followed the gaurds that had taken Kendrew to Windmill Hill.. a fort no less.. she had watched from the shadows some of the beatings the man had taken, ever blow making her cringe and .. sealing the decisison to let him not remain there one moment longer than she could help.. with that in mind she had turned from the fort.. and went.. shopping.. Shopping you think.. perhaps and odd thing to do.. but.. no to much if you had a plan.. and it wasn't like she was buying lace and garters.. no.. she was buying pastries.. filled with creme.. tucked inside a basket.. along with a few things from the apothcary shop.. a rented horse, saddles bags filled with extra clothes.. and she was ready to put forth her plan.. it had taken almost 3 hours to gather the things together and make it back to Windmill hill.. upon the back of the rented horse.. plain drab unoticable horse.. unlike the cloaked woman who rode him. Winding through the city streets and alleyways she was surprised to spot the sight of the Pirate Queen and her protegee heading toward the prison..her eyes narrowed as her tounge clicked the horse into action toward the pair coming up behind them, her voice low and not at all.. pleased " Grace I thought I told you to stay on the ship with Kate ?" yet the minute she saw both of the the wheels in her head was turning.. they could both be a great help.. to gain the freedom of Kendrew.. and his men. Holding up her hand befor Grace could even offer an excuse.. she looked at them both " Want to have a bit of fun tonight.. and rescue Kendrew and his men?" canty to think she could.. probably.. would they pull it off.. not likey.. but you coudlnt' say they wouln't try their dammedest!(d)

Grace: As Ealora's hand wrapped around her own Grace stumbled a bit but followed behind her quickly into the town. She didn't say anything as they walked just looked around watching everyone as they passed. The streets were quiet today and the people looked almost greyer then they had the night before. Her hand wrapped inside of Ealora's as they walked she heard the hooves of the horse falling and her attention moved to the cloaked woman who approached Ealora could feel Grace's hand tighten for a moment before Shaden spoke and it made her relax. She was about to tell her about Ealora's plan and such but was cut off and so simply stepped back a bit letting the two women speak. She only smiled lightly at her tutors plan and spoke softly. " .. Of course Miss Aramoire" (d)

Ealora: She squeezed Grace's hand in her own. It was probably a bad idea to bring the girl, but she had been admant in coming. Shaden was going to kill her. The hooves were heard and her hand strayed to her boot and the sai head sticking out there. She turned and then the voice spoke. Ah, Shaden was not pleased. Well then that was strike one. She could spank Ealora later. A wicked grin spread across her lips as honeyed voice flowed"Ah well you know me Shaden my dear, can't let you have all the fun. Besides, if I can't get my frustrations out with a beast and a bed, might as well do it this way." A slender shoulder rose and fell before celadon eyes flowed across the scene behind Shaden. The look was plan on her face, where was Maahes? Yet the words that came from her lips didn't speak of the look on her face"I wasn't about to let Kendrew and his men rot or die for the justice they were fighting for. Seems like you have a plan though and you know how much I adore our little acting games. Care to share?"*

Kendrew: From where the women stood, they could see each of the three hills around Aberdeen. On each one was a reason why the shire flag had three castle-like structures. One for Aberdeen Castle, One for St Katherine's Cathedral, and Windmill Fort-at-Castle. The shadow of which now loomed larger to dwarf the moon; gloom rolled in along with the mists from the North Sea. Was it that, or the natural chill, that hurried so many inside behind the supposed safety of shuttered windows? Locked doors could only muffle the sounds the party heard clearly. The screams of men, the laughter of their captors in thinking they did God's will by folllowing their King. The people of Scotland had a right to their government, but was this truly what they chose? On the square some yards ahead of them, a cart ambled in on creaking wheels filled with timbers, hay, and kindling. No one need speak to know what was being constructed: A gallows, and a pile of f*gots not far away. The gallows was not for one man, but could accommodate at least five...while the f*gots were piled for only a pair. The workmen said among themselves, "Short time now it'll be lads. Bruce' be payin' us well he will. Hangin' the Lord o' the Isles and his men folk. He intends to burn tha' black heir and the Lady on the pire there.." (d)

Shaden: She nodded.. reaching into her cloak, her intent selfish as it was .. to begin with was to go only for Kendrew.. his men collateral damage.. but now that Ealora and Grace had showed up.. her plan changed. it might be possible to save the rest as well.. from within her cloak was pulled a small money bag that was tossed to Ealora.." a wagon with strong horses.. filled with hay.. " she winked " the men have been tortured and I dont' know what shape they are in.. " her eyes looked at Grace and what she was wearing.. a certain light seeming to flash in her eyes.. as she dismounted.. moving toward grace.. she reached up and unpinned the girls hair, tousled it roughy messing it up.. then let her hands slip to the girls chemise ripping it open.. so even more flesh was bared.. the skirt was given much the same attention so that a flash of knee and thigh could been seen when she walked.. then.. her hands moved to the girls breast.. pushing them up and almost out of the top of the outfit.. " there.. that should work to distract the gaurds " she motioned to the Horse.. " up you go" she turned to Ealora then with a wink.." buy em if you can.. steal em if you can't.. but be outside the Windmill Fort within the half hour.. You'll hear when to come knocking " her eyes glittered dangeroulsy.. it was a whole new side of SHaden that was being seen.. well not completely new to Ealora.. Onto the Horse before Grace she climbed.. " Whores for the Condemmed.. courtsey of the Bruce " she winked back at Grace.. and then kicked the gelding into a canter toward the windmill fort (d)

Grace: Listening to the two of them talk her mind couldn't help but be distracted by the sounds from inside the walls. The screams of pain and the torturous laughter of the abusers. She didn't notice Shaden walking forward until the woman had unpinned her hair and sent her curls tumbling down around her neck and shoulders. As her dress was torn apart those young pert breasts came into view and when she pressed them together Grace couldn't help but to laugh a bit. Reaching down she slide her blade from inside her thigh and tossed it, in its sheath of course, to Ealora before she climbed onto her horse behind Shaden and wrapped her arms around her friends waist. Looking over to Ealora she smiled to her for good luck and turned back to Shaden as they road towards the fort. " What is the plan Miss Aramoire?" Shaden had never told her what to call her so she simply continued to call her by Miss Aramoire. (d)

Ealora: "You yell if you get bombarded inside...and Sha, play nice"She retorted as she caught the bag of coins and took a step back. Waiting while Grace got onto the horse and then the sheathed dagger was caught in her other hand. She moved to stuff the shealth into her belt before tugging the coat back into place as she winked at Grace. She was good at what she did. No need to deny it. Waiting still as the girls galloped towards the fort before the former pirate queen disappeared to do her job. She'd be damned to miss the time Shaden said to be back.*

Kendrew: "Have ye no heart!" He yelled out, clashing against the bars only to be pushed from them again. His men were being disassembled, slit, and murdered. His men were not being paid over as they were touted and the priest did not have but a chance to do the cross above them before another one was killed. Quaking body heaved over in to the refuse pot as hand again drew the remnants from his lips away. The dank was causing him to grow ill, to which the guard taunted, "Sickin' before your hanging won't be fun lad. How will ye enjoy those last requests?" (d)

Shaden: The Basket of Pastry was settled into Graces keeping " Don't eat them.. they are poisioned.. they are for the gaurds.. " two rings flashed on her hands as she guided the gelding up to the gates.. of the Fort.. a guard stepping forth to block their way " What busines you have here ?" his voice was gutteral and grimy as his lance shifted to bar the way " Follow my lead" she whispered to Grace before turning a smile to the Guard " hores sent fa tha Last request o the prisoner.. by tha Bruce " where on earth had that accent come from.. it was not the usual refined italian/french cultured soft spoken voice of the Courtesan.. but and Aberdeenian brouge... the skirt of her gown was lifted to flash him a bit of thigh, as her hand reached back caressing Graces hip softy " Seems he bae a randy beast in naed of two cunnies befor he swings the gallo" the Guard chuckled and reached up.. running his hand along her thigh.. beneath her dress for a feel.. these court whores were soft and fine.. nothing like he'd ever touched before.... and she allowed it.. even wiggled a bit before giving him a smile " ochhh now.. when I be done perhaps you need a little cunnie too.. " she winked and licked her lips.. almost crowing inside as he stepped back.. " OPen the gates.. Whore's for the Prisoner " as he watched them go inside he smirked and called " Don't ya be forgetting me now "(d)

Grace Looking down at the basket Grace gave Shaden a confussed look a moment, as if she were going to eat at a moment like this. None the less she wrapped her arm around Shaden's waist as they approached she watched as she spoke with the guard. The thin black skirt blowing in the wind a bit to lift and tease across Grace milken white flesh. As Shaden's hand slide onto her hip Grace's own fingers spread across her stomache and slide across the taunt waist as she smiled down at the guards. She had no such ability to hide her accent and so chose not to speak and simply sat behind the other girl with her chest bouncing gently as they rode inside. (d)

Kendrew: "Whores from the Bruce, eh? King did say men can have thems the last requests.. Mm..pretty sort o' whore that come to Windmill Castle.." The guard reached up to the wagon, touched the exposed leg of Shaden, only to reach over and tickle Grace's hip. "Unlike thems prisoners, Ah've the chinks tae be payin' ye." He smiled only slightly crooked teeth as he gave the motion of his hand for them to be led forward. Funny place, to discuss bed matters in the : middle of a killing yard. One the other of Aberdeen's two hills of the three, the bells of the Cathedral told the hour, while Aberdeen Castle held those who waited to know what their fate would be and how long the King would suffer their presence. If the women chanced to look up, a window with bars held tense, thick hands. Eyes peered over, and while he did not see them...Shaden would not mistake that Kendrew's cell must be in one of the upper rooms. On purpose, no less, to watch as his men were being torn from life and limb. The men on the square were nearly done constructing the pile of f*g**ts and sticks, for the gallows would take much longer. Quiet street had few to share the talk, though by now it was common place: The Duke, the Duchess, their highest constituates were deemed as traitors to the crown. All of his wrongs the King had placed on their heads, and sough to make examples of them all by making a public execution. Some were told to flee, while others remained. (d)

Shaden: "I've already been paid to service the prisoner.." she tilted her head coyishly.. " but afterward.. you coins will be welcomed.." she let his hand wander a bit.. even pressing close to him,her scent alluring.. almost potent with promise of pleasure.. " The quicker I get to the Prisoner.. Kendrew of Dumfreishire " she reached into the basket and withdrew a drug laced pasty pressing her finger into it's depths pulling out a bit of cream on her forefinger and painting it on his lips " The quicker I come... back to you " the finger delved into his lips as the pastry was pressed into his hand.. her other hand motioning Grace to follow the other guard into the Prison and up the staircase where Kendrew was held.. " I shan't be long " she whispered to the smiling guard. almost feeling pity for him.. soon he would die with her sweet mercy still staining his lips.. a swish of skirts and she followed Grace up.. basket in hand ( d)

Grace: When the guard moved his hand onto her shapely hip Grace laughed softly and smiled a teasing smile in his direction. No words need be spoken as those deep blue eyes met his own and she smiled down towards him. As the moved past she turned her head looking back towards the guard once with a wink of her long lashes before the bells of the hour caused her to look up. Seeing those thick dark hands against the bars she felt her heart ache for the misery of these men. Slipping her from around Shaden's waist waited for the horse to come to a halt and she hoped off with her long legs exposed for a brief moment as she did. Nodding her head towards Shaden she turned and moved towards the other guard. His eyes traveling along the subtle curves of the young maiden as she smiled to him. Speaking in soft whispers of intimate lovers she ran a tender finger along his jawline as they walked into the prison. ::Before stepping inside Grace's hand wrapped around the handle of the basket as she smiled sweetly to Shaden and then turned. Once inside the men standing guard noticed almost right away the different scent of a woman in their midst. As she made her way over to the lot of them she pulled back the napkin over top the tasty deadly treats and lifted one out she brought it to the lips of the man closest to her as she fed him with a playful laugh and then handed the rest of them each one in turn.:

Ealora: She took her time guiding the two horsed wagon up the road to the fort and only pulling them to a stop before the gate. The guard looked rather surprised at the Egyptian beauty sitting upon the seat"Whot another whore for the prisoners?" Ealora plastered a sweet smile on her face as she leaned back on the cart, rolling her hios"Oh no, see thems my girls in there. I'm sure them boys be givin them quite a ride, so I'm here ta pick them up. Suspect your guards be geetin quite a show themselves. Won't be able to walk for weeks." The guard let out a rumbling laugh"but hey dun forget about me my beauty, that copper haired one of yours, she dun promised me."Ealora let out a saltry laugh as she climbed down from the cart and strolled to the guard"Oh but my dear, I'll take care of you when we come back out." One slender finger circled the front of his chest. "Open the gate" The man cried out with some horseness. Ealora grin only deepened as her hand slid to his mouth and clasped tightly over it as with a quick jerk, the pin was out of her hair and thrust into his throat. She blew him a kiss as she let his body slid to the ground before using the toe of her boot to move him out of sight and crawl back onto the cart. Her head turned back to look at Aislin and Aman hidden within the straw"all most there". With a jerk of her wrists, the reins cracked and the horses trodded forward into the fort.*

Kendrew: "Twenty-Nine, eh', Twenty-Nine! Gots these whores here for you from the King. Kept his promise he did unlike you with yours...fine way to go. Dun wear out the lasses, I want mah turn, especially with this philly 'ere. Need a real stallion she will when she's done with a half-wit like ye." As he went for his keys, he wasted no time grabbing at Grace's taunt backside. He watched her breasts lewedly, then traveled his eyes to Shaden's main of copper curled glory, and wondered if her charms below were colored in flames. "Send them away," the Scott belowed, unknowing these 'whores' were angels in disguise. "Take 'em!" The condemned man turned around, and would you imagine his inner surprise to see what 'whores' the King had given him? He made no show of anything but some renewed sense of appreciation on his face..issuing that the wood door with steel grate bars be shut in his wake. "I'd watch but there's other work tae be done aye." He waited for the sound of the armor to be down the hall, the footfalls to lessen before he furrowed his brow. "You should be on the boats....ye should be gone. Both of you...Why!" He hissed moving over to Shaden and shaking her shoulders, yet wasting no time in embracing her. (d)

Aislin: Aislin had no troubles blending in and while the other women were putting on their womanly charm, Aislin was dressed in male's breeches and vest, with a large hat to hide her chestnut colored hair underneath. Her own look was much like a stable or cabin boy, though that meant very little at the moment. The smell of hay, made her close her eyes and relax within the prickly confineds of the hiding area. Straw poked through the material of her tunic and breeches but that was not such a thing to tolerate. For this, she would sit on pins if she had to. The best thing about hiding in straw, was that the wicker of it allowed you to breath without a problem, though moving even a inch, would send a lump in the whole pile. Somewhere in here, others waited, only able to listen to the on goings and hoping that no one decided to stick the hay with a sword. Inhaling softly, she could hear Ealora as she spoke to a male and then quietly speak to them. The daggers were in their shealth at Aislin's outer thighs, ready for anything, or so she hoped. Calm, with no emotion, she sat with others and waited hoping this plan worked. Making Eamonn a widow, was not the best option.

Shaden: As Grace passed out the pastries laced with poision.. there would be a 15 minute lapse between life and death.. those minutes would be filled by Grace.. distracting the Gaurds hopefully.. As the Guard annouce " Whore's for the prisoner " Shaden Shoved Grace roughtly " I get First shot at him.. you wait with the gaurds,, then I can be makin more change while you finish up " the accent was still deep.. as she turned to see Kendrew.. his face in anguish at what was happening in the yard below.. her eyes met him and in silent entrety begged him not to give her away... Her ass was slapped by the guard harshly.. even thru the fabic of her dress as the iron bars opened.. she turned giving the Guard a coy smile.. " Be waiting your turn... " she slipped inside to face Kendrew.. the guard strolling away... making crude statements.. " Couldn't leave for home without you " she smiled..soflty her hands reaching up to caresse his cheek.. " what have they done to you... ?" tears shone in her eyes a moment.. before she looked back over her shoulder.. and made a loud moan as if she was making love.. " Grunt every now and again .." she moved him against the wall where they were out of sight of any gaurds passing.. whispering soflty " about 10 minutes and all the guards in the tower will be dead.. poision.. then we will get you out.. Grace will fetch the key " from then on.. Poor Kendrew would be subject to a symphony of purely carnal sounds.. issued from the plum colored lips of the courtesan.. once even when a Guard Drifted Close.. Shaden would hike her skirts , wrapping one leg about his waist and kissing him passionalty.. Liliana forgive her (d)

Grace: Following the guard up the the cell she smiled and toyed with him. Slipping her hand against his belly and letting her fingers glide across as she walked inside and his hand clamped down against her backside. With a laugh escaping her pretty little mouth she turned her eyes towards him. " Dun worry luv I'm sure he can be satisfied with one.. besides the King gave orders that all the men here should be rewarded for such.." Curling her body against his own those sweet curls of the virgin courtesan pressing into his dirt covered shirt as her lips moved up and whispered against his ear gently "heroic feats". Slipping her fingers down the front of his shirt she smiled as the Guard wrapped her up inside his embrace and moved her against the nearest wall. Tho just as he was undoing his breeches she felt him go limp and the groan she gave out was from his heavy body laying on her and not any pleasure. Pushing his back quickly she ran down the hall and saw the bodies of the others laying on the cold stone. Rushing back to her intial prey she dropped onto her knees and search his body till she found the key. As she made it to the cell she was quickly met face to face with a guard .. who it seemed didn't have a sweet tooth after all " He'.. you .. whatcha be doin there?" Turning towards him she slide the key up the back of her corset. " Jus' checkin on me..oh fiddle sticks I dropped me hair pin.." Stooping down as if to find it she pulled the small dirk from inside her boot and came up. She had intended to stab the man in the stomache but underestimated his closeness and ended up inside hitting him right in the groin dropping him like a sac of potatoes and making Grace gasp. Turning around once more to the door she unlocked it and quicky motioned the other two out " Hurry they're all dead .. " (d)

Aman-un-Din: Once more the lofty Arabian had found himself aboard another ship, only this time there was no worry as to the well being of a former ward in Skye. This time, his purpose and mission was to save the illustrious Duke and Duchess from a swift drop and a sudden stop...or worse. Accompanying the Lady Aislin--knowing her husband was tryly having a fit at the absence of his wife in a most dnagerous circumstance--it was his duty to do his best to save those who had done such for him. But to be stuffed in the back of a wagon under straw..a most precarious and unusual place to find yourself. His legs and body contorting in an awkward fashion were already growing stiff. The Duchess and Duke had better reward him a nice hot bath with herbs and spices to cater to a stiff neck and joints sure to come of this. Under the straw, Aman-ud-Din had little room to move anyway, so the straw was not constantly jabbing his side or or rear even. The turban kept the straw from weaving into his hair, and the dark cloth pulled over his lower portion of the face--hiding the markings of ink upon the flesh of cheek and forehead--kept the straw from biting into his face. Dark eyes of a brown hue lifted up in the general direction of Ealora, and once the cart began to move again, he inwardly sighed. An advisor..crammed into the back of a wagon under layers of straw...what a tale to tell Bess if she lived to see another light of day. A large hand had been placed upon the hilt of the Persian scimitar, a trusted favoured sword of the Arab as it hung at his side and over the layers of linen and cotton robes. Yes, the ride in the back of the cart needed to end abrupt fast, or else he would be of little use with locking joints

Ealora Thank whatever Gods existed that she met up with not only Aislin ans Aman when she stole the horses but Danae and her men as well. All hidden within the straw, she could only pray that they did not indeed poke the straw with swords. She had to keep them distracted. Till the others could spring from their hiding place. "Oy! Who'er you?" A guard called as she pulled the cart to a stop in the courtyard. Once again hips rolled as she glided from the seat of the wagon"My girls be in there. What goes on here?"a bounce and a turn as she moved to see the gallows and pire being constructed. "Oh, thems are for those no dead and that pire there for the duchess and tha black heir" The guard moved in behind her, sniffing at her hair, pushing up against her"and over there, we be torturin the traitors"It wasn't only the guard pressing himself lewdly against her, it was the sight before her. Body parts, Kendrew men dismembered. Another was being blinded and another being tortured, right there in the court yard. The growl in her throat was animalistic"There's going to be a bloodbath.."She hissed like the panther she was. "Wha? There all ready...AHHH"Her hand moved quickly, the dagger thrust straight into his manhood. She stayed that way for a moment, enjoying the torturous sound coming from his lips before she jerked back, sliding the dagger across his neck, cutting the skin open even as the blood sprayed across her face. "Now! Leave none alive"she yelled to the straw covered figures as she turned and ran for the guard blinding one of Kendrew men"Hey!"The guard jerked, surprised and looked up at her in time to get a dagger within the eye"Was it good for you too?" Hissed as she jerked the dagger out and grabbed hold of his face only to thrust the dagger into his other eye and then drag the dagger across his throat. *

Kendrew: Grace came to deliver sweet sustinance and a promise of embrace that would be fufilled by a poisoned underdark. Oh, Death could be its own sweetness! They gave it to the undeserving so it fit that a sweet face would be the deviant trap to be fallen in to. "Ye shouldn't have...tis too dangerous!" He hissed, only to find his balance lost. Cold stone was to the back of him while to the front of him was someone far more pliable, warm. Naked flesh was caught in stumbling hand as he blinked thrice. "Ah'm..nay worse for wear.." This wasn't true, as his bare torso was a litany of bruises sung at a torchure ridden mass. Blood dried on the ends of his hair, and his flesh was ridden with a fever long before she stoked it hotter with her fire. Before he could say another word her mouth devoured his! He caught himself on a ledge, holding them both erect as adrenaline coaxed at the frayed edges of some latent urge. God: had a very ironic sense of humor! The fairer sex was his salvation toying with temptation. By the time of Grace's return, he was righting himself enough to stand on two feet solitary. Still, it meant releasing Shaden's leg from his waist and disengaging the nearness. "There's a weapons room at the end o' the row," he said on thick tongue and dried throat, though of being parched for water or being over watered with the nearness of the spoils one couldn't tell. Bloody, bruised, and beaten..he still had fight in him yet (d)

Aislin: The sounds of men crying out in pain and begging for mercy could be heard, no more muffled by the straw then the voice of Ealora had been. Patiently, Aislin kept her eyes closed and was successful in turning off the emotions that would cause her heart to ache for men that, while she did not know well, she knew who they were loyal too and that made all the difference in the world. No one should have to suffer for their loyalty to others that are rightous or on a good path. Oceanic eyes shot open when she heard Ealora call out, making her hands press upwards on the straw, sending the mild weight from her body. It pricked her palms, but there was no stopping now. The element of surprise would only last so long. Standing quickly, her tall form jumped from the wagon so that when boots hit the ground, she went running. One hand spared a moment to press down her hat as she headed straight for the guards she saw that had yet to catch on. Both hands reached for her daggers and pulled them out before charging one and slamming her slender frame into him at full speed, pressing the daggers deep within his back so both went to the ground where Aislin bounced and rolled off quickly to stand once more before others could come. Hands reached down for her daggers before a foot pressed onto the male's back and she yanked them from his body sending blood over her lower breeches. No emotion showed on her face. This was no time for it.

Danae: Where others came for duty and obligation, Danae and her men came for the sake of that as well as friends. Granted that she was now working along with quite a few she only knew of and not truly know. However, with that put aside, one thing was certain, they were all here for a common reason; Justice. To set free a man for standing up in believing what he deemed was right and Danae was not one to let such a man die for it simply because others disagreed with him. Nor would she let Kendrew be used as an example of it to others. The Greek Commander was dressed to kill to say the least. She had her usual, the bow and arrows, her scimatar, her daggers, and her katar that was always strapped to that left thigh. Now however she was back to wearing the dark green cloak as the weather was seemingly growing colder in all places she traveled frequently. Danae wanted badly to chuckle, she found herself piled in this wagon of hay along with others like Aislin, Aman-ud-Din, Merick, Balian, and another female she had yet to meet. Silent she would remain though, that was until she heard the go from Elora herself. She sprang up from the hay, quick to grab for her bow and an arrow, notching it and sending that arrow flying into a guard that was headed their way. Another arrow was quickly grabbed, notched and took out a second man that was torturing one Kendrew's men in the distance. Danae's men, Merick and Balian jumped free from the wagon, taking on a couple guards as well as she jumped down off the wagon with a wicked smile and began to have herself some fun at the expense of a few men. -d-

Shaden Aramoire: Realease she looked at him.. " I guess you can walk.. you have three stiff legs " she winked as Grace turned the key delivering them from the cell.. she seemed to turn all business and cold once again " They are all dead? " speaking to grace before, she moved to the window looking down into the yard where Ealora.. and.. a smile came over her face.. reinforcement were in the process of removing the blight of the Bruces's gaurds from the face of the earth.. " Come.. we must hurry.." she turned and moved to the Guard that Grace had knifed in the groin.. taking his own dagger from his waist she slit his throat.. mercy.. perhaps.. or making sure there was no witnesses.. most likey.. Grace.. Go with Kendrew I'll release the others.. " She moved from cell to cell then key in hand releaseing every prisonor in the towers.. " Let it be known that Skye's hand delivered you from death... " she spoke to each as she released them.. " join us.. for your freedom " she was rallying the very scouge of the Bruce, his own people against him. Realease she looked at him.. " I guess you can walk.. you have three stiff legs " she winked as Grace turned the key delivering them from the cell.. she seemed to turn all business and cold once again " They are all dead? " speaking to grace before, she moved to the window looking down into the yard where Ealora.. and.. a smile came over her face.. reinforcement were in the process of removing the blight of the Bruces's gaurds from the face of the earth.. " Come.. we must hurry.." she turned and moved to the Guard that Grace had knifed in the groin.. taking his own dagger from his waist she slit his throat.. mercy.. perhaps.. or making sure there was no witnesses.. most likey.. Grace.. Go with Kendrew I'll release the others.. " She moved from cell to cell then key in hand releaseing every prisonor in the towers.. " Let it be known that Skye's hand delivered you from death... " she spoke to each as she released them.. " join us.. for your freedom " she was rallying the very scouge of the Bruce, his own people against him.

Grace: As soon as the two of them acknowledged her presence she tossed one of the keys to Shaden and grabbed another from the guard whom she had castrated. Moving quickly from cell to cell she freed the men who were left inside telling them to move quickly to the cart outside. Soon tho there were more guards approaching and she reached into the belt of one of the slain and pulled out a sword. Grace had never weilded anything more dangerous then a bottle of whiskey as of two days ago but suddenly found herself very happy that her brother always wanted to play duals with wooden swords. Pulling out her blade she weilded it in a most ungraceful fashion, both hands wrapped around the handle she was simply trying to block the swings of the man in front of her. Walking backwards she soon felt the ground change below her feet and she was in the open where she could hear Ealora and many others behind her. Finally it seemed that the man had bested her and his blade crashed down against her milken flesh marking her right arm with a deep slice making red blood run free. Collasping to the ground on her backside she quickly slide her blade up peircing the his barrel chest between his 3rd and 4th rib. Watching him fall to the ground Grace pushed herself up with her free hand and grabbed onto her wound once she was standing. Tho far from a mortal wound it was deep and the crimson was soon leaking out between her fingers as she ran towards the cart. For Grace .. was a lover and not a fighter. (d)

Aman-un-Din: For once in his life, after stepping off the ship that born him to Skye, Aman-ud-Din was more than ready to run a sword through someone if it meant moving from this cursed wagon and this position from who knew how long. Patience paired with temperance begot by age and trials of life, he waited until the signal was given by Ealora, and out sprang the 'Greeks' from their Trojan Horse...which was a cart and bail of straw. It was not great surprise that Danae: was present, for the ardent feminine fighter always had a habit for being in the right place at the right time it seemed. From the back of the wagon he sprang--rather quickly for a man climbing in years--and the straw tumbled from his tall form, revealing the strange garb of his people. The light cape of black textile swirled about his feet after a flutter on the wind with swift movements. From the sheath the long scimitar was pulled free, the blade glittering in the caught light and shone with brilliance of maintanence. Twirling the blade within his hand, the Arab--who had been iconically known for his placid composure, would here prove the deadly skill he still practiced, and living proof as to the reason the Sultan of Pern had entrusted to him his precious children and lives of his family. With a fluid wipe across the abdomen, the guard doubled over in pain as knees buckled. Dressed in ebony shades, the tried with death, thinking it some sport. May God guide his hand true and lend to him swiftness of the saints, for while dark eyes made certain to keep close watch upon Aislin, a friend that he would never see hard. With one hand gripping the side of the cape, the Arab lifted the fabric, providing a temperary blind for the guard rushing him with a pike in hands. Aman-ud-Din turned on swift grey boot heels, and as the man charged by, missing him complete, the thick, pointed tip of the sword was brought down, cleaving the spine in twain.

Ealora: Letting the guard fall to the ground, she moved to the injured man who flinched at her touch, blood pouring from where his eyes had been."It's ok, we're from skye"She worked to wrap a piece of cloth around his head, over his eyes and helped lift him up"We have to hurry, come on" Grunting with the effort to carry the man to the cart and deposit him there before she turned to join the heat of the battle. Sais pulled from their resting place at her thighs and blocked the assault of a sword. Thrusting upward, she twisted the blade away from her before landing a kick to the mans throat and sending him to the ground, gasping for air that would not come. A cry came and her head lifted to see another running in her direction. A dagger was quickly pulled from its sheath at her back and thrown at the man catching him in the head, impaling him nearly to the hilt and sending him flying back with the force. She would of liked to watch the back of the others but there was no time. She wanted to save as many of Kendrew men as she could. The body parts, an arm here, a finger, even a booted leg missing its owner littered the ground, staining the soil a crimson color. Lord knew how long it would take before the ground would ever till again. In her opinion, there was to much blood. The former pirate queens heart lerched. Where there any other survivors out here. A pair of arms grabbed her from behind. With a grunt, she sent her elbow into the mans stomach who had grabbed her. Celadon eyes lit with a flame that would not receed. To much blood, to much pain and the panther had been released from its cage.*

Aegraine: Excess baggage. Aegraine had hand on a hay fork, buried in all the fresh straw ; the sounds were familiar and the sights accompanying from back in Ulster. How it had been that time, when the castle was taken; months. She followed the others, off the hay wagaon, straw strealing from her , in her wake and a hay fork held i both hands, to charge forward and that person who attempted to grab reins and harm the horse got his; four sharp metal stab wounds from arms strengthened in day to day struggles in Ulster. The veneer peeled back; she was not the lady she tried to become.(d)

[Sir Kendrew Campbell]

Ailsin: Aislin was not so stupid as to move far away from the others. No, there was need to have her back watched in case more came and she wanted to be within running distance to get closer to others. As she moved to the next male, blood dripped from the ends of her blades as she moved closer, leaving a trail of rouge droplets in their wake. With her heart pounding a deep beat out in her small chest, she moved clsoe enough that when a blade was thrusted out towards she could rise both her blades, making them into a X shape to stop the blade from finishing it's powerful slice. Arms fell downwards slightly, as booted feet dug into the ground and she gritted her teeth before thrusting all her upper body weight into moving that X upwards then leaned back to send a swift kick into the gut of the guard making him bend over where her leg switched to send a knee into his face, making him stumble back to the ground. No mercy..as was never shown. Stabbing her blades into the ground, she reached for him, slender fingers gripped his chin and head, twisting it as the sound of his neck cracking could be heard softly through the sound of other blades clashing. His body fell to the ground, lifeless as his eyes before she reached for her daggers and moved towards Aman-ud-Din once more. Best to stay closer. Eyes moved to see a woman injured and heading towards her. She had seen her upon the ship...shifting her steps, she moved towards her, placing both blades back into the shealth before grabbing her good arm. ``Come with me. `` She had to get in a place where there was no men charging so she could wrap

Danae Aislin had her daggers, Aman-ud-Din his Persian Scimatar and Danae her Ottoman Scimatar and katar. That alone was quite a force to deal with if you were one of the many guards now going to attack. But the fact that there were still others such as Elora, and those within the walls now with Kendrew, these people of mixed nations from Skye, Avaria, and Ulster were a force to be reckoned with. When you messed with one, you got the whole lot of them and Gods be with those that stired them. Danae would strap the bow back across her form, leaving a few arrows for later use, knowing they would be needed. Hands then moved topull free that Ottoman scimitar and her katar while another either brave or stupid soul tempted his fate with the Greek warrior. As he heaved his sword up to bring it down, it was met with her own while the katar was thrusted forward and into the guards under arm, sending the mans eyes wide before seem to freese. She then thrusted that scimatar blade into his chest, just to make sure before jerking them both free and left his body to fall where it may. Steps were made to move closer to the other tortured men of Kendrew's regiment. Those with ropes bounding their hands and feet were freed with the Greek Commanders blades while others pleaded for their turn. Merick and Balian would stay close to both Danae and Aislin, knowing that guards like to go after what they thought were weaker links, women. Other men under Danae's command now came running in through the gates to help assist and protect that small force that was unleashing their wrath upon the King's men. -d-

Shaden: Down the stairs she clattered after Kendrew Grace and the released men, on her way lifting a few daggers from the dead gaurds.. stopping every now and again to make sure none survived to tell.. the tale.. Once in the courtyard her eyes serched for the Familiar forms of Ealora, Grace Kendrew.. seeing Ealora safe and on a rampage only gained a smile from her lips.. as Kendrew joined in the Fray.. she coudlnt' find Grace.. then spotted her running toward the cart.. good she was safe.. she would have never forgivin herself if something had happened to the girl.. though one had to wonder of the mental import this night would have on Grace.. it's wasn't every day you became a mass murdered.. by Pastry no less.. as these thoughts resounded in her copper curled head.. arms grabbed her from behind " Devils Whore !" the words were grunted from the profusly sweating man.. already the toxin from the pastry had invaded his system.. steadily shutting down his organs.. but he was stout.. and thick and resisted.. the power of the poision.. slamming her agsint the wall.. he held her by the throat.. watching as her face reddened then purpled, feet kicking agsint the wall in struggle.. her whole body fighting for precious breath.. in the next moment it was his face that would redden.. as he felt the thin metal of a dagger.. rip thru his flesh.. finding a home within his slowly dieing heart.. his eyes met hers for a moment blood burbleing up over his fleshy lips.. then falling onto her cheek and neck as he pitched forward.. ripping the skirt from her gown.. on his way down.. effectively stripping her to her bodice, corset, garters, drawers, and hose..! Pushing his body off her.. with a thud she kicked him away.. " Do you know how much I paid for this.. it was.. Russian Velvet !' stooping she slit his throat.. " Damm you to hell" and into the fray she went.. all knickers and lace!(d)

Grace: Quickly moving with the other woman she nodded her head to her, once behind the line of defense Grace stooped down and tore a strip of cloth from her skirt handing it to the woman to bandage her arm. . Once she had it knotted securely Grace's face looked at her " Thank you .. but there are more wounded men that need help" and she ran off moving over to where some of the soliders were. Helping them stand and one by one moving them to the cart so they could be taken to the ships. One of the men had lost his hand and was bleeding profusely, once she got him aboard she climbed up beside him, tearing another piece of cloth from the skirt she tied it against his wrist. Looking down at his face , twisted with pain she ran her hand across his forehead and whispered. " You'll be home soon..we're going to take you all to the ships and you'll be home soon." Running her fingers (d against his hair to comfort him he slide his head against her lap and let his eyes close. Grace looked up from where she was in the cart and watched the melee going on, her arm ached with pain and the world was Softly amn her voice sang " I wish I was on yonder hill .." (d)

Aman-un-Din: With a hard jerk, the blade released its second victim of the day, leaving the man with life draining preciously from his wound, the crimson liquid began to coat the hard steel, but such could not be tended to now. Dark eyes shifted With a hard jerk, the blade released its second victim of the day, leaving the man with life draining preciously from his wound, the crimson liquid began to coat the hard steel, but such could not be tended to now. Dark eyes shifted to Aislin's form, thankfully she had not gotten too far away from him, for in the fray of battle, it was very easy to become separated. Danae was close as well, thankfully, which was added protection for the healer was he caught a glimpse of her retreating from the onslaught to tend to a wounded comrade. It seemed they would all need a little healing after this one. The cape flutttered in the breeze of movement as he released it from his hand, letting it fall: to ripple about his long legs. One guard, sword raised, was charing for Aislin and Danae, but his destination would be altered by the lofty Arab as Aman-ud-Din seized a fistful of the man's collar, snatching him backward and away from the women, buying Aislin time to banadged the other quickly. The edge of the sword was brought down, and with a swift swipe, the man's throat had been severed and now blood waterfalled from the open wound. Without a care, the Arab dropped him, letting the man gurgle and gag for air his lungs would never receive again. Expression was hidden as was the face behind the cloth and wrapped turban upon his head. To the natives of Scotland, Aman-ud-Din was surely a dark terror unlike any that had stepped upon the shores. Stepping over the man's body, the sword was raised to parry a blow from another swordman, and for balance, Aman-ud-Din lifted his other arm to guard his face as he blocked a second attempted blow. Fingers belonging to said arm curled into a tight first, and with swords presently twined together with a clang, Aman-ud-Din punched the guard in the face, feeling bone and cartilage break under the force. Blood soon gushed from the wounded nose, and pulling his sword free, a quick slash behind the knees sent the man in the air, feet flying up as he landed with a hard SMACK on the stone ground


Ealora: The swish of her coat in the wind as she turned sending a knee into the mans groin before bashing her head against his and the man fell to the ground. Lifting a boot, she thrust it downward into the mans throat. The msucle crunched, blood splurting from the mans mouth as his eyes widdened. His hands reached for her boot, struggled just as he struggled for breath and then went limb. The rapier on her hip was pulled from its sheath and tossed to a nickers and gardered wearing Shaden as she passed"Catch!"She called"Nice nickers"and she winked before turning towards the cart. Ealora ran as fast as her feet would carry her, helping to push and hoist the wounded men onto the cart before she reached for the front. "Witch! Heathen!"The words hissed up at her. Her fingers lost their grip and she slammed into the seat before being drug to the ground and thrown onto her back. As the man beared down over her, her thighs would thrust in the air, capturing his head between slender legs. He struggled and finally fell pulling her upward from laying on the ground till she straddled his head, her knees against the soil. The both of them shocked before Ealora fall back, rest her butt against a chest as she started to send her fists into the mans face. The first, crunch, broke his nose spraying blood onto black leggings as well as the skin of his face. Her fist raised and slammed again, into his mouth. The cry went out from the man till he struggled, flipping the woman onto her backside. Ealora let out a gasp as the wind was knocked from her lungs, her arms pinned above her head"Get off me!"She managed to gasp out as she struggled beneath the form ontop of her. She controled to struggle, finally dislodging a arm from his grasp and send it smacking into his broken nose which sent the man backward howling in pain. Struggling to her knees, a sai was grasped and sent straight into the mans chest, down down down to the two prongs which also peirced the chest. Heaving, she gave a look down to her shirt and hissed"Damn it, this was my favorite shirt!" With a heavy breath, she pulled the sai free and pushed the body aside before climbing into the cart again.*

Kendrew: A solider fought in adversity. They did not ask how ,when, or when the end was near. With a single minded focus he made himself strong against the ailments his body screamed in protest of; the fever became the heat of quick breath making his abdomen tighten. The blood on his hands became the stain to remember his fellow fallen. Hour upon hour he had listened to them cry out to God. Hour by hour he heard them renounce faith, lose it, and mewl for it like children after the sacred chatecism before the end. Hands reached out from cells Free us! Free us! cried the men of Skye being goaded by the courtesan to become free-men of that fair Isle, if the Bruce they still hoped to serve. The King had not shown a bias in those imprisoned on Windmill Hill. Insignia, service, fealty was reduced to pissing in corners and the stinking shyte in chamber pots. Grace released as many men as her small, sweet hands could muster while he looked to those that would flee for the doors. "The Weapons are at the end of this hall! How will ye leave Windmill? Lower than the stink of your own bowels or as freemen, beyond the need for the acceptance of ANY King! What say you, join us, those of the Bruce, and become legends in a green country. Show Robert the Black-Heart that your blood is as red as his own, but it will be the true enemie's blood you will shed! TO ARMS!" He heard the sounds of the foundation rattling..of the men who had bad risen from the depths of the castle to join the fight in the courtyards, and saw in the narrow window what seemed a small contingent of the night watch coming through the streets. "HA!" He moved down the hall to break open the door of the weapon's room. Of all the things that lay there, of all that he could take he sought for himself only one item of personal merit: His shield. For his weapon? A broadsword of standard issue, while others took for the morning-stars, javelin like spears. Some found arrows and bows to be their tools of glory. "LET NO MAN RISING FROM THE DEPTHS GO TO THE YARDS! Damnation to the KING and ANY THAT SERVE HIM!" Those outside would hear an unpresidented sound: The interior erupt to life, as the remaining reservists paved their way out. He crushed a face beneath his foot, slammed his shield across the chest of another (d)

Aegraine: Six silver sharp table knives, directly from the Aberdeen Castle banquet, souvineers of a lovely time., Aegraine had in her waistband and sleeve wristlets, as she stood guard of the cart and horse. Aegraine knew the limitations of abilities. With the hay fork braced against further moves to take the horse, she drew one of those silver knives and threw it , side arm to stop one of the opponents dead in his tracks. ' A lady did that?' said the look on his surprised face gave as the man tested the thing stuck in his sword arm; gave open eye incredulous to the fine dinner knife stuck solid in him; crumpled , dropped the sword and there he kept at rest. Ulster taught her not to look back upon a task as done; just keep a look out for the wounded coming to board this cart. Both hands to the hay fork, once more. Spear and pike; a hay fork was such a useful thing, to be sure. (d)

Captain of the Guard: News spread of the attack a lot faster then one would think, men raced to their arms with lightning speed. "Get the other!" The captain of the guard cried out to the another as he swept the hall. He could hear the commotion from below, heard it like thunder rising from hell. This was what Skye was about, why they were so feared. The captain thought to himself, a silent fear he did not want to say openly. "Bunch of she-cats! Devils!" He shivered as he armed. They would have to come up wouldn't they? "Stand at the doors men!" A formation of troops met at the halls Kendrew and his clan would have to pass. With thud on the floor before him, they dropped the General's body, bloody and broken. "They'll put everyone of those prisoners back, if they want to keep him alive." The tip of the blade at Maahes's neck, and they stood ready and waiting. (d

Aislin: It was time to put away the blades and do what Aislin knew better then she did to breath. Grace was the first she saw, but she knew others would need her soon. Aislin had seen war full out and had wandered the fields to tend to wounded while not even a few feet away, men still killed each other. This carnage was not as the last war she had been in, yet it was a point of change. Leaning over the wagon's side, she pressed her hand into the hay after tending Grace and sending her on her way. Aislin was quick to jump up into the hay and pull the sac over her shoulder before leaning over to help load the men onto the back of the wagon. Now and then, she glanced over to see the others, keeping tabs on where they were in case they needed help. Aislin's fight was now changed to saving lives in a heart beat. The most severe, were giving her attention first, shredding shirts and anything else she could to use as make shift wrappings. Some wounds would have to be sown, but she could not do that now..``Shyt`` She mumbled under her breath and ignored Grace as she sang to the men. Let comfort come from another, Aislin's touch, would make many cry out as she palced pressure on wounds that poured blood from them. ``EALORA....GET US OUTTA' ERE FAST`` She would cry out when the men were loaded. Aislin needed solid ground and fire...she could not get that here. A good bit of these men might not make it.

Danae: As Danae freed several of Kendrews men, she yelled and directed them to the cart that awaited them all with a pointing of her sword and a glance. She would safe guard their backs as they ran along with Merick and Balian. Making sure that all able bodies were clear of present danager. Balian would spot a man that needed help, he moved to assist the man and got him to the cart. Merick stayed by his Commanders side. The two continued to fend off guards that rounded corners and pathways who dared to take the lives of those they fought along side with or came to rescue. Danae had no idea her own life was threatened until icy blue hues would spot Aman-ud-Din taking down the very man that had wanted to do so. The Greek Commander would give a simple nod and a faint smile as her way of saying thank you before eyes went wide as she saw a man attack him. Katar was sheathed, dagger snatched and thrown at the man attacking Aman-ud-Din. It would impale itself in the mans back as Aman-ud-Din managed to cut the man down to size. He fell on his back of all places, but, at least it would ensure his death right? Once she knew the threat was down for good, she moved over to Aman-ud-Din and his fallen opponent, bent down, rolled the man over and retrived her dagger before standing tall once more. She smirked at Aman-ud-Din and then moved off to continue battling a new swarm of never ending guards while Merick began to help other comrades to the cart. Danae would yell moments later, "INSIDE! TO THE PRISON!" Those under the Greek warriors commander began to advance and make their way to that very place, the copper skinned woman in with them. -d-

Shaden: Enough to shock the few remaining gaurds into.. stunned gasp.. as she moved, half clothed.. her undergarmets in tatters.. blood covering the left side of her face, and onto her chest.. like a scarlett flag.. crimson hair now in disarry, she was like some hellish nightmare.. a vision of passionate death come to claim their souls.. The Rapier caught with a rougish smile to Ealora. "Thanks.. I'll buy you some to match!" a wink then she begin cutting the path of destruction.. few knew of her fenceing skills save Maahes, Trades, and Ealora.. but the truth was.. a very dear patron had delighted in nude fencing before.. their more carnal exercise.. leaving Shaden with a more than apt knowledge of the art of fencing.. to say she was deadly at it.. was.. almost a misnomer.. quick, fierce stikes that were merciless.. the added boon of her attire making distraction a willing ally was all the more to the detriment of those who chose to stand in her path. That Path Lay back into the tower.. Kendrew had never come out of... Damm that man how slow could he be? " Ealora... " she waved the pirate her way " Kendrew never came out !" Up the stairs she went slippered heels clicking aginst ancient limestone.. No one knew the General was being held at the very top.. leave it to him.. to throw a monkey wrench into everything! (d)

Philippe: Be seen and not heard. Only attack if provoke. The Templar Knights need to rid themselves of their war monger reputation. All of those words those little jewels of wisdom from Philippe's grandmaster had went in one ear and out the other. fate has sent Philippe and his loyal band of knights only seven strong sat at the bottom of the hill just to the south of the prison. Just as Philippe thought a group of guardsmen looking to flank the brave warriors of Skye was quickly chargeing down the hill. Philippe took a moment to lead his men in a small prayer before ballowing out in his heavly French accent " God Wills it !" Pointing his swords towards the approaching guards Their steeds dug hard into the ground climbing the hill with ease and when the two groups met it was light gas and fire. His started to swing his sword left then right cutting into each man's flesh like a knife hitting hot Their steeds dug hard into the ground climbing the hill with ease and when the two groups met it was light gas and fire. His started to swing his sword left then right cutting into each man's flesh like a knife hitting hot butter

Grace The blood lose that Grace was suffering caused her eyes to roll back inside her head and her body slide down limp beside the one handed man. As Aislinn moved along helping the other soliders Grace's eyelids fluttered a few times before she woke up once more and pushed up to sitting. Looking over to see the fight continuing she looked over to Aislinn for a moment and moved to a man who had a deep gash across his chest. Pulling off yet another bit of her skirt she pressed down against his wound and looked over to the healer. She wanted to tell her they should go but she knew the woman knew that already and so simply turned her face back to the wounded
SweetGraceLynch: solider once more. Grace's cheeks looked almost ashen white and her hands were shaking as she held the cloth as tightly as she could against the man. (d)

Aman-un-Din: While the Arab was apparently no true blood from the lands of Skye or Scotland descent, that did not make him any lessof a patriot for freedom of oppression and just rights. But more importantly, his beloved friend, The Duchess, was a captive to these people, the first person among those of Scotland that showed the Arab kindness and did not stereotype by appearance. The dagger had gone into the back of the man he had been sparring, and his eyes quickly followedthe path that the dagger had taken, only to find it's wielder none other than Danae. A small smirk twitched the corner of his mouth upward, though it could not be seen through the cloth that covered the lower half of his face. A nod was given in thanks to the woman, for had his attacker grown too bold, that dagger would have surely dispatched him and rendered the man helpless. Falling upon the dagger only hastened his death, and to which Aman-ud-Din silently thanked God for a short endured agony. Dark eyes followed the woman as she approached the dead body which he had stepped over, only to collect her weapon. Had he time to speak, he would have offered his thanks. However, such would be more fitting after the raid upon the prison fort. Eyes turned to Aislin, seeing her upon the cart with already a band of wounded. Aman-ud-Din took but a step to follow, only to be cut off by two guardsmen. Parry. Parry. Cold steel rang as Aman-ud-Din met their attacks with an equal energy in counter, keeping his long scimitar steady to deflect blows. As one guard thrust his sword, the other took a swipe for the Arab's legs. Jumping backward, Aman-ud-Din dodged the intended attacks, but the guards only followed. Once more the guard thrust his sword forward, but this time Aman-ud-Din was ready. Leaning to the side to miss the thrusting blade, his free hand seized the man's extended arm, and with a twist, he slung the man to the side, dislocating that sword arm, and still holding him, the other guard's attack was blocked before a large boot to the stomach was sending the guard backward. Back to the guard who's arm he still held captive.

Ealora: Turning her head at her name. She nodded in Shaden direction. Grabbing the nearest skye member, she hoisted him onto the seat."You get them to the docks..don't stop for everything or anyone or there will be hell to pay."Jumping downfrom the cart, her head swung left and then right, catching sight of Aman and Danae"Aman! Danae, hurry, the cart is leaving!"She didn't want the cart to leave without them but she knew aislin needed them back to the ship if they were to save the men they were even still rescueing. Grabbing her Sais from the seat of the cart, she disappeared into the building, taking two steps at a time, puffing out breaths which ached in lungs long devoid of a good breath until she met up with the courtesan hurrying along her way to rescue the knight and his men who hadn't come out yet. Somewhere in her gut there was a pain, something was wrong but she brushed it off. Keep going, keep going!*

Aegraine: Aegraine held fast to the cart horse's mane, in desperate hope to keep it from bolting; the commotion of this battle made the horse paw at the ground and jerk his head, as if to be away. "It cannot be much longer."" one hand she patted the now skittish animal, and told herself the same. (d)

Kendrew: The shield was like a thick, round edged mallet of wood mixed steel that gave as many blows as it deflected in the tight quarters of the passage. The fresh air of the doors and windows became blocked. Urine, blood, and musk were enough to make even the strongest warrior want to cripple under the thick cloud. Pungent aroma was tangible enough to invoke tears from the eyes that sung something bitter! The broadsword's flat end collided on an upward blow to a man's chin, before the sharp was brought down over his head. Looking up from his kill, he saw the dark bohemoth brought down to his knees. He was no fool - they were the way out - blocking it was evident weakness. "HOLD" He cried out, every man coming from the wake of his most recent kill to stand frozen. Little did they know that just as weapons were about to be surrendered the battle would close in on these halls. "Let the Lad go, Captain. You're quarrel's with the one ye call Twenty-Nine Calls, is it nay? Tha' is me. Did enough orders today. Come taste the steel n' flesh of what you really want." (d)

Captain of the Guard "An even trade?" The blade was pressed tighter to the neck of the General, blood pooling over the top. "I will trade you, and the woman he came looking for." Eyes of black circled the room searching for the redheaded vixen he had seen once before. "Where is the woman, whose name is Shaden? She slipped out to find you did she not?" Maahes's mouth was busted, eyes blackened and clothes in tatters. He was out cold, but a low moan of a last defiance left his lips. Don't do it, Kendrew. I've survived worse. "Lay down your weapons, and I promise you the rest of you can leave..we just want you." Was that a vendetta? Somebody sure did get scratched the wrong way by Twenty-Nine Calls (d)

Aislin: Aislin waited for Ealora, hoping they would make it in time to save at least a few. Bloodied hands reached out to grab the sides of the wagon as it jerked forward, or backwards in her case. Men groaned and held onto their hurt limbs as Aislin's eyes went to Aman-ud-Din. `` AMAN..COME WITH ME! `` She did not want him behind and she would need his help. Finding balance, she reached into her sac and began pulling out small viles of witch hazel along with other ointments before handing one to Aman and Grace. `` Apply those to the smaller wounds, carefully. So nay use yer bare fingers. Let us try nay to give infection.`

Captain Jack Flynn: Although they began as pinpricks of light amidst the darkness, a dozen points of light moved through the darkened streets of Aberdeen. If one were to see the torch-bearers pass by, what would be made of them? Twelve men, rogues and renegades all, were briskly heading up the hill toward the prison's gates. The flickering and sputtering torches made each face that carried them harsher, darker and crueler than the light of day could've revealed. There was little doubt that these men had a mind to go a-brawling, each was armed with a cutlass or sword, one or two carried a claymore or bastard sword, but the rest? The rest carried belaying pins, cargo hooks, and marlin pikes. Of the rogues, one of the prates, wore a lumpy satchel over his shoulder, but what was within? Well, t'would be a secret for now. As they moved up, their leader took a slow match from the brim of his tricorn, touching it to the He turned to his crew, "Double time, ye lot! Er there's tha devil ta pay!" (d)

Danae: Danae quickly made her way though a few gaurds and up stairs. Somewhere in all this chaos, she heard her name being yelled and reminded of the cart. She called back to Elora with her reply. "GO! Go without me!" Danae had no idea what awaited for her, the men under her command and those that fought along side with them, but Danae didn't care. She was here to see things done the right way... her way and that a friend was rescued at all cost, even if it meant her life. Little did she or the others know that there was more in store for them than they bargined for. With her ottoman scimatar in one hand and her katar in the other, Danae would advance easily. Cloak, bow, and quiver of arrows was of no hinderance to this one. All were like limbs to her very body. Long dark strands of hair swayed and shifted with each move, step or strike made. The copper skin of her face gleamed with moisture under light from torches, candles and moon. Her eyes were always icy blue, but always in the heat of battle they were cold and harsh to those that stood in her way. Soon, with Danae leading the way, she and her men along with others were coming up behind the Captain of the guard as well as his own men. The Greek warrior came to a dead hault when the scene became clear before her. She was grinning however until she spoke. "I see you all have started the party without us... what a shame. Here I thought I would at least get one dance in." The Commander said in a sarcastic tone to those that held Kendrew and his men at bay. However, eyes shifted, brows arched and she then saw Maahes. Nostrils flared and a look on her face shifted from a calm,cool, collective stare to one of fire and fury. Not another word was said as she simply stared down the Captain, glancing to Kendrew and waiting for just the right moment to act. Fingers would tighten around the the hilt of her scimatar and the handle of her katar as feet were well placed while shoulders squared up -d-

Shaden: Shaden stopped as Ealora passed her.. a clatter behind her and she cursed.. loossing her shoe.. it tumbled down the stairs.. " Go I'm right behind you" she spoke to Ealora as she turned.. never in a million years thinking that.. Maahes was at the top of those stairs, a blade to his throat.. if she would have known that.. she would have left the shoe.. but damm it was new.. and it was french.. come onnnnnnn ! it had dropped down the seemingly endless well to the bottom of the stairs, running down in a flurry of lace and garters.. past the floor where most of the others would be entering following Aman Din into the prison... she followed the heeled slipper.. cursing all the way.. " Dammit.. to hell" Darkness sheltered the shoe as she looked for it at the base of the stairs.. falling to her knees to search.. hands shuffeling about.. Then.. she was retched from the ground.. by her hair, the pain almost making her black out...some of the copper curls falling to the floor " Hello.. girly.." swung about and pinned to the wall " You didn't forget me did you ?" his fist connected with her jaw...blackness...(d)

Grace: As the cart pulled off towards the boats Grace held tightly to the side so she would fall off while her other hand held to the man in front of her. Once she heard the healer yell out her head turned and she noticed the man that Aislinn was speaking and held her hand out to help him on board the moving cart. Once they were all there she toook the bottle in hand and a piece of her dress and begin to tend to the wounds. As she felt exhusted the days of not being able to asleep were catching up to her. Sitting there she shut her eyes for a moment before opening them and tending to another solider as they bumped along. (d)

Aman-un-Din: The guard screamed and arched his back, his dislocated arm a true pain as the Arab seemed to never release it. He dare not tug, for that would only further the damage..it was crippling. Aman-ud-Din turned back to his captive, and releasing his arm, Aman-ud-Din sent a swift kick to the back of the knee, bringing the guard to his knees while his dislocated hand dropped the sword. Kicking it away, Aman-ud-Din twirled the sword in his hand, and with an uppercut, the sword split flesh and bone from navel to chin. Now, that left the other guard he had kicked aside. As the man charged him again, the sound of Aislin's voice could be heard. He was a little BUSY at the moment, and had been trying to make his way toward the cart had the two guards--now one--had not intervened. Blocking the blow toward the side, the lofty Arab pushed the man's sword away with his own, and the force from it making the guard stumble back. Dark eyes were locked upon the Scotsman guard as he lost his footing, stumbling away from the Arab. Twirling that blade again, the red-stained blade flashing in the caught light, his other forearm went up to protect his face, but also to be ready for use. The guard's eyes widened at the long sword with a fatter end at the tip moved with such fluidity and grace that it was mesmerizing..haunting--the doom of his fate placed upon the tip of his sword. Aman-ud-Din abruptly ceased to swin the sword between fingers and flexing wrist, only to bring it upward in a diagonal sweeping motion to cut across his chest, then across to slice the guard across the throat, finishing the job. Aman-ud-Din sighed, before eyes snapped back toward the moving cart. Dear God...he though to himself as long legs were set into motion and the ends of robes and cape were whipping about him as he moved. Finally catching the cart, his free hand clutched the wooden side, before he carefully swung up into the cart, wiping the blade of his sword clean with the ends of his cape, sheathing the scimitar and silencing it...for now. Eyes glanced between Grace and Aislin, before the Arab took the ointment presented and began the task of doing what he could to help the wounded, though he was not so nearly as skilled as Aislin, nor would he ever. For now, he was her assistant, nothing more.

EAlora: Heaving each breath out was painful. Pulling each one in was as well painful and soon Danae was even passing her. Damn it all to hell. Shaden stopped and Ealora did to until the woman said go. Even ealora hesitated before she flew up the rest of the stairs stopping within inches of hitting Danae. Her eyes swung over the womans shoulder to Kendrew and his men and then over to the Captain who had a sword pointed at a neck.."Maahes!"she breathed out in a whisper as her heart lurched and pushed her forward until a pair of arms gripped her and yanked her back. She didn't know who it was that stopped her but fire lit within celadon eyes and the panther within her growled out a curse at the Captain holding him."Let...him...go"As she positioned the Sais within her hands, she was only going to be stopped from breaking the man she loved free once.*

Kendrew: "Ealora..do nay move." He glared at her with eyes that bid no room for disagreement, putting out a hand to her, he closed the fingers of all but the index and central, pointing them to her to have forebarrance. Her snarl. Any man with ears could hear it the same as the sea raged through hollow caverns on the coast. She was the siren come to call on the rock the sailors refused to be lured to. He took a step forward to observe the Captain's face as light bent. Shadows invaded pock mark craters, filled the hollow voids in his eyes. As he knelt down near to placing his sword upon the limestone he considered who his enemy was. Familiarity was not at the forefront of his mind, for he had no ememies unless they were those of his sovereigns. Time gave him commerades "Anthony...Anthony ni'Culluch....." He recited the words as a schoolboy recites his lines to commit verse to memory. (d)

Aegraine: The cart pulled away, to the boats and left Aegraine behind, for wounded came before all else. "Now what? " There was nothing to do but run after them, but she hesitated; "What if I am left here?" The cart rocked and bounced as it headed hell bent to the ships, laden with rescued men and those who worked to save their lives. A faster runner caught up and boarded the cart, but Aegraine was not that speedy, although she could run a day long, she was not as fast as the cart "I got left behind when they overtook the castle, in Ulster; it can happen." She faced the truth, armed with six Aberdeen shield pattern knives and a sad old hay fork, standing there in all this.(d)

Maahes: Eyes parted only for a moment, hearing Ealora's words and Amber orbs found hers and one eye then closed in a wink. See, he really wasn't down. Not yet at least. "Yeah, grew up huh? I used to be your favorite! Is this one now?"

Captain of the Guard: Anthony seethed. "You said I would amount to great things, but look at me!" Yeah he crazy. "Not so strong now!" Kendrew put his blade down across the stone floor and this would have been where he would have let Maahes go right? The sword tip lifted from the neck of the Beast, but see this was always Anthony's mistake. Never noticing that the handle was pointed outward. Kendrew displayed honor right? It was what true knights did offer swords handle out
Wrong, a true knight in surrender would offer it with both hands, but knights of Skye didn't surrender--not without a fight.

Maahes"B*tch please." As so perfectly spoken once before, Maahes's kneeling body moved forward for the handle of blade and with a roll a slash caught across the man's face as he came up. Yeah so what if the world was spinning, he was up and ready. Guards were surprised, and flinched when the sword was tossed back in Kendrew's way. "You know I've still got 7 up on you from the last battle." Spoken to Kendrew as the guards started to move forward and his hands went to work..snapping necks. (d

DestinyOfValor: Danae simply kept her stance, for she knew any more advancement could man the end for Maahes. Whomever was responsible for holding back Elora, she was greatful, it could have proven fatal for all and sent this already eventful night into pure chaos. Danae didn't even so much as flinch or glance to Elora, her eyes were set on that Captain. The stare became a glare and if looks could kill, the man would not be six feet under but twelve! Who the hell did this man think he was holding her friends Kendrew and Maahes like this? No matter, he was as good as dead anyways, Danae would make sure of it. Eyes shifted just once as one of the Captain's men eyed the Greek warrior. Those icy blue hues narrowed and she puckered her lips in a kissy face to him. Was she daring him? Hell yeah she was and she prayed to the Gods he'd take the bait. Those eyes then shifted again, catching Maahes' wink to the woman at her side. Where she normally would have smirked, Danae refrained, knowing that something as simple as that could give things away. Instead, cold icy eyes moved back to Kendrew, the Captain and the man that continued to eye her. Oh how she wanted to blurt out 'Let's dance... you and I.' but the Commander knew better, she simply waited. All the while growing tired of all this talk and was damn ready to kick some ass. It seemed Mr Opportunity would finally knock and Danae would gladly answer. She shoved forward and went for the man that had been eyeing her. She left the Captain for Kendrew and or Maahes. The man went for Danae and they seem to meet each other simultaneously. Blade clashed against blade and all the while Danae grinning like the greedy bytch she was when it came to blood shed. Scimitar and katar worked together as blow after blow was made and taken. One lucky move had Danae's arm gashed open, only adding fuel to an already burning furnous of fire. Danae was quick and when he raised those arms to bring down his sword, her own met his, katar thrusted forward in his chest, trigger pulled, blades sprung and split the mans chest open. She smiled at the man as his body went limp and fell. -d-

Shaden: Every Fort had secrets and the Windmill was no exception.. a trap door leading from the bottom most floor and into a tunnel that ran the length of the courtyard and beyond.. coming out at a small divit on the hillside.. The Figure now cloaked in darkness.. looked toward the Castle.. where he would carry his charge.. dawn's fingers spread across a new morn.. that would find the carnage the witch in his arms had begun.. Quickly he moved.. to the Castle his offering to the Bruce still in the arms of blessed darkness. After much bickering he was brought before the Bruce, who had not slept the night.. obviously the state of things in his Household had not allowed him that Luxery..Angry tired and besieged by uncertainty the King paced in the great room of the castle.. Where Sean Flannery Droped the now Roused and struggling wildcat that had fought him tooth and nail since she had revived. Dropped before the King she lashed out at the man who held her cursing and spitting like a wild thing, as she hit the marbled floor before Robert. Eyes of glaicial green widened.. beneath the half mask of dried blood and dirt, a new dark bruise spreading across her jaw, mane of copper curls spilled aobut her like fire, ending at her waist.. the bodice of her dressed ripped and bloodied with the Bruce's own mens blood... nary a hint : of skirt on her... just frayed lace..flesh , soiled stockings.. and one shoe.. the other left behind at the base of the stairs... with a long copper lock.. the only hint of what had come of her . "She started the riot at the Windmill.. her and a bunch of Witches.. they have powers Mi Lord.. terrible powers.. and dark demons that have killed them all " faced with the terrible task of giving Robert the news of the Massacre.. what else was their to do.. but hinge his failure upon the supernatural ideas of witches and Demons.. certainly no mortal could have been expected to fight such legions of the Devil.. (d)

Ealora: Oh Fraggle Rock, no he didn't! Jaw clenched as she lowered her Sai laden hands to her sides. She would recede at Kendrew words, but for how long? Celadon eyes slide in time to catch Maahes amber eyes in the wink. Herlips twitched, all most smiling but it looked more like a snarl to anyone else looking at her. As her eyes rose again, Kendrew was laying down his sword. What the...oh fraggle rock! Trust him, trust him. She kept telling herself but her blood was boiling. Forbearance? Ha! Her body seemed to slink backward but really she was preparing and the moment came with the rising of the beast on the floor. Lord all mighty she was going to either kick the chyt out of that man or kiss him to death...later. The moment was open and she sprang forward leaving the Captain open for the knight or the beast as she went for one of the Captains men creating an X with the Sais as she blocked the incoming sword. Hands beared downward with the weight the man placed upon the blade. Her body seemed to sink, the tip of the sword nearly pressed to her forehead before she threw him off sending sword and Sai's flying and sent a kick right into his groin. That's right ladies, use the movement that would take a man down. The guard fell to his knees, singing suprano. The jungle cat in her pounced on the man in his weakened state, hissing and snapping at him like the panther she was, the hellcat as someone had called her.*

Robert Bruce: The Bruce hadn't seen his bed in the days after the display on the platform in the town square. He watched the time crawl by with the slow passage of either a flame orb or cold circle moon on the clouds. He hadn't changed for sleep but retained a vestment for the presentation of state affairs held beyond the hour of midnight rational. One might say he expected the passages of Aberden Castle in the deploy of men to catch a thief, though the goods stolen did not equate to the true responsible party. His gaze was cut from onyx, inspired by blue-black misery. Did his solider shake as the King descended one step, two, to walk to him as he gave him a story of witches, spells, and how they must possesed of powers to insight a rebellion. From his windows that is what he'd seen; Panes of misted glass pulled apart at the joinings showed him a clear encasement of the world on his city's hill. "She looks human tae me," he said in droll sort of amusement half laced with cyniscm dripping out, "Plithy way tae say the best men Scotland were bested by mad girl-thingys. Get out of m'sight boy. If you expect a reward for bringing me a red-headed she-devil ye'll be lucky to escape with the bullocks you have. Be GONE" Shaden was thrust down on her knee. Guards at the wall were pulled back in a show of obvious suggestion; He needed no guard against her, nor would there be any to still his hand. Benevolence showed not, nor sign of the man who had fought with William Wallace or generations of the Plantagnet line of England. A tender seeming hand combed fingers through her copper glory before pulling back her head in a hard jerk, forcing her neck on a painful angle. "Listen to me....whore." He whispered the word close enough for her to smell the sweet herbs chewed as he breathed medicinal breath, "I know. I know e'ery little game you play. I know how many beds you warmed, and I am goin' to finish..." He cupped her cheeks with his other hand, and jerked her upward. " What was started. Will you give the King his night? I'll play ye in a few more hours spared M'Lady Wench. Give ye to tha' DUKE you all so favor..and you tell him this when you see him: When I get his wife, and that black excuse for a boy..they are going to be burned at the stake. I had hoped the f*g**ts in the square would roast them. But, Ye n' any women of the island caught in this rebellion will have to do first. What do you think, eh....fire licking at that porcelin flesh and making kindling of that hair?" He pulled back his hand, and curled it in to a first, punching her in her stomach. As she doubled over, he pulled on her hair towards the darkest of corners for what he intended to do to her, with her. "Tell Longshanks I will see him 'pon the morning." The King of England was already there (d)

Aegraine: Aegraine felt invisable here, as back home. She counted on that quality here, as well. Slowly, she walked to the wounded man with the Aberdeen pattern knife in his arm and put out her hand and pulled out the knife and staunched the blood flow with his own scarf. "Be still; you will live; just wait until the medics come by. And.." She whispered to the wounded one. " I will have to take the sword, away for a distance, yes? With that she moved the sword abandoned to a safe distance. Well, Aegraine reasoned, it does not help her case, in the long run. But it might not hurt. Then she began to walk away, cautiously.(d)

Danae: To each their own right? Danae had hers, Elora hers and others would soon follow suit. After Danae took down her first man, she forced herself closer to Kendrew, smirking as she moved so her back was now pressed to his. She called to him over her shoulder. "It's good to see you're still with us old man..." She teased as she continued to block strikes, make some of her own and smiled the entire time. Was she crazy? Maybe...but this was just what Danae needed. A good long hard battle to take her mind off certain people and past events. In battle, she was focused, no time to think but only react. No room for error, only success. This is where Danae felt like her real self, in the heat of battle. It was when she was fighting she felt nothing...it was a wonderful thing to become numb. Lives had been saved, others taken and yet there was still so much more to do on both accounts. Danae would of course be there to the end. As the fighting continued, the gash in her arm became much more notable. Each movement made with it sent painful and stinging sensations to course through her frame. She gritted her teeth and pushed on. -d-

Shaden: Pain was immesrable as she was lifted by her hair, to bear against his body.. his strenght was lengendary... and not mispoken.. as he laid out his conditions for the leinancy of a few more hours of her life.. she began to feel deep abiding fear.. not only for her.. but for Bess Adam and their son.. His words were like ice.. spoken with a flippancy only the truly evil could use when speaking of roasting one alive.. her head shook numbly with submission as he asked for his Night... did she expect mercy from the hand that cradled her face.. mercy of a King.. this she would not find as the oppsite hand crashed into her stomach.. releaving her of any illusions.. hauled into the Shadows .. she grasp upon the name of LongShanks... hear.. allready.. anything to keep her foucus.. The Duke.. he had told her to tell.. Adam.. she captured the words.. like a mantra.. something had to be done.. she would not see that Child.. that Innocent child on a pyre...(d)

Ealora: Ealora was rolled to her back, hands gripping at her throat. The world was going black, the air supressed from all ready stining lungs as she blindly reached for anything near her. The guard choking her leaned in whispering heated words into her ear"hell comes swiftly heathen. You wounded me huh heathen, but it is not a mortal wound." Her mouth opened, gasping for the air that would not come. Her hand closed over the hilt of the sword and with the last breath in her lungs burning the oxiygen out, she thrust the sword upward into the chest. Instantly the hands loosened and she gasped in as much air as possible"Yeah..but that was."Muttered in a hoarse whisper as she rolled the sword impaled body away from her. Celadon eyes scanned the room, looking for one person and panic welled up inside her"Where's Shaden? Where is my sister?" The panther leapt to her feet then pushing Kendrew men out of the way, searching the dark corners for her best friend only to find the shadows of the corner, hollow of any presence.*

Kendrew: "No one will deprive me of my life, Danae." He quipped with a curt nod of his head. The last of the battle was drawing to its close as they fought out, felt the cool night air on their faces. The fallen, the run through joined the trampled as the sound of men cracking underfoot became merely a night lullaby. Up the hill, the guard reserves were crushed by Phillipe, Jack, and the men that came with them. This was not merely a release from the prisonhouse of Windmill Hill. This was rebellion. "I want to know where tha' injured have gone, and afford them protection at once. Raid those stables! Take e'ery available horse and hitch up other wagons, whatever supplies you find. Armor, weapons, food, clothes." He tossed the sword out to a man at his far left, bidding him go. "What do you mean where is Shaden.." he turned his head to Ealora as she desperatly searched....crestfallen the expression on his face as one of the reasons for his freedom had vanished. "No.." He snarled in time for the advancing men of the sea met with the seven of the Templar. Torches flickered back and forth. "What do we do, Twenty-Nine?" The men assumed that he was so for they hadn't heard of the one known as Kendrew, so those of Aberdeen called him Twenty-Nine, and so it seemed to fit. "Gather as many able bodied men as ye can. Surely there are some you know among the guard! We split into groups! Some of us shall to the castle go..finding a way in that matches not what we have done here.. There is too much at stake and we do not have the resources... yet." He looked to Danae, the determination in Ealora only to see a lone girl standing in the yard with cutlery surrendered for a sword on behalf of her skill. "You there, lass. Come Did you come 'ere tonight? You belong with us.. nay there alone." This he said to Aegraine. The fever burned high in him, but the perspiration was licked cool by the night air. "Where are all tha' came with you! Find them, and gather. Make ready for a combin' o' Aberdeen castle. The rest...you move to the roads..with me." (d)


Aegraine: Like a puzzled ghost, she stands looking into blank air, as flashbacks from those last days, when she was running with archers, her own bow and arrows; one of Robb's troop. "Time to awake from daydreams of the past ." "Yes. I amAegraine, come from Skye. I got left back when the cart went. How might I help?(d)


Kendrew: "By bein' sharp and stayin' alive my good girl. Have you any news to tell that might help us now?" (d)

Ealora: Her Rapeir was picked up along with Shaden shoe before she met the others. Hands clutched at the shoe as if Shaden would appear at any moment to collect it. Her knuckles whitened against the shoe. If she was harmed in any way, one Her Rapeir was picked up along with Shaden shoe before she met the others. Hands clutched at the shoe as if Shaden would appear at any moment to collect it. Her knuckles whitened against the shoe. If she was harmed in any way, one hair out of place. The person responsible would pay. Guilt spread through her like a hot knife through butter. She shouldn't of left her alone on the stairs. She shouldn't of left her alone. A russet head dipped to look at the shoe then up to Kendrew as he planned the rescue of Shaden. She would be amongst them and god help the man or woman that hurt her sister. For she would show no mercy.*

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Robert the Bruce sat upon a gilded throne… now threatened by his most stalwart ally… the Lord of the Isles. It was Duke Adam Aberdeen that told the Bruce that he would protect his borders of Skye, regardless of those in Scotland… but in reality, Robert knew that Adam would rule all of Scotland against the English. The loss of a throne, the loss of a Country… not to England, but to his own countrymen… this would not do… Robert had the Aberdeens arrested for treason… their men in chains, and one by one punished in manners better known as English than Scottish…

Adam plopped into the chair as he read the note… “Adam m'boy...Wot ‘ave Ah dun…?” he questioned himself… His friends and comrades, men who served him loyally… ones ne’r asking questions, but simply obeyed him and the Duchess… He knew Bess was doing the right thing… but now… he was alone… at the mercey of the King…

Hours later, as he sat pondering what to do next, guards would visit him to see to goad him… things such as… His wife had escaped… this Robert would make him pay… now the guards were too busy to visit and goad… for he heard cries of revolt… Death to Traitors, was the call… Adam paced the room, guards set at his door… Was Robert crazy? Why had brothers born of Bannockburn now killed one another… was it at the behest of the English? As rumblings in the courtyard, and the calls for death increased, He would not realize the rescue attempt of Kendrew and the others…

Had Bess, Aodhan, and others made it to safety? What would he do now? He had to notify the Captain of the Belladona…

As it were Adam was a strategist… With undue secrecy, not even to his own beloved wife… Despite the growing weather hazard, he had ordered some of the Gryphon fleet to maneuvers in the North Sea… not far from the Port of Aberdeen…. Ten ships, to include the Belladona, the Gondeson, the Gaelic Dream, and the Excelsior sailed west toward Peterhead… mere hours from Aberdeenshire itself…

It was this now that Adam needed to contact the Captain… The bile burned in Adam’s stomach as he saw the colored flags of the garrison Windmill Castle signalling an attack was in progress… What was happening there? Robert the Bruce, the current King of Scotland had ordered extra guards placed with the Duke, especially after finding the escape of the Harper and her son… Adam’s proof of treason by the Bruce had been confiscated… would he destroy it…? certain…! Robert even had the Brooch confiscated… Adam thought he would use the Brooch as a bargaining tool to gain back the lands of southern Scotland… Adam gritted his teeth as he wondered if there was anyone who could provide proof of the treason…

Pacing the room, he saw a pin for the hair… then he noticed a smirk upon his face in the mirror, where Bess once sat… As he turned to look at the guard at the door, he picked up the hairpin and slipped it in his sleeve of the white ruffled shirt…

Moments later, he struck up a conversation with the guard involving loyalty and faith… as th two men bickered and argued freedom, Adam turned his back to the guard as if to walk away, then with speed of warrior, Adam spun , his aim true… the pin shoved into the eye of the guard’s open-faced helmet… and a knee to the groin… The guard bounced back against the wall then fell to the floor… Adam then took the man’s spear and waited behind the door… then the guard in the hall unlocked the door, and opened it… as he stepped in cautiously, Adam thrust hard, driving the spear deep into the man’s torso… as he fell yet another entered, a sword drawn… As the guard swung at Adam, he jumped back… then as the guard stepped over the dead one, Adam dropped and rolled, kicking at the guard and dropping him to the floor… Pouncing upon the downed guard… Adam, sat upon the man’s chest and with powerful hands… grasped the cartiledge of his throat and choked the man… his life slowly coming to an end with each passing second… Adam watched the man go limp… then he ripped the cartiledge from its foundation…

Picking up the sword, he stuck it in his belt… Then one foot upon the other man’s stomach, Adam pulled the spear free with a sudden powerful yank… Out the door the Lord of the Isles… he was DEADSET to find the proof he needed… and to notify the Fleet… If he did, there was hope for Skye... if he didn’t, both Skye… and Scotland would fall to the English… The King of Scotland had betrayed William Wallace years ago… and after all they had accomplished at Bannockburn and Stirling… he had played straight into Maubrey’s hands…. And His Father was now in HIS city… this could not be… Adam would rather be dead!!!!!!!

[gracelynch]

It was mid afternoon of the next day as she lay there , her mind was full of thoughts.. the questions Jack had raised in her mind, the words Aman had spoken on the deck that morning, the vision of the guards dead on the floor with her hand to blame. Rolling across the mattress she stared out at the sunlight peeking through the wooden planks above her head. The loss of the scottish lands to english hands reminded Grace of a song her mother once sang to her. Now laying in that bed her voice sang softly the words of the sad Gaelic song that spoke of losing ones land and language. (english translation below).


Chae b'e sneachda's an reothadh o thuath
It wasn't the northern snow or frost
Cha b'e an crannadh geur fuar on ear
Nor the sharp, withering east wind
Cha b'a an t-uisage 's ne gaillionn on iar
Nor rain and westerly storms
Ach an galar a bhlian on deas
But the plague that came from the south
Blath duilleach stoc agus freumh
To blight blossom, leaf , stalk and root
Canan mo threubh is mo shluaidh
The language of my people and my race

Thig thugainn , thid co' ruim gu siar
Come to us, come with me to the west
Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Feinn
And hear the language of heroes
Thig thugainn , thid co' ruim gu siar
Come to us, come with me to the west
Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Feinn
And hear the language of heroes
Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Gaidheal
And hear the language of the Gael

Nuair chithear fear feiligh 's a' ghleann
If a killed man would be seen in the gen
Bu chinnteach gur Gaidhlig a chainnt
Certainly Gaelic was his language
Nuair spion iad a fhreumh as an fhonn
Then they tore his roots from the land.
An aite Gaidhlig tha canan a Ghoill
And replaced Gaelic with the language of the Lowlander
Is Ghaidhealtachd creadhal nan sonn
And the Highlands, once the cradle of the brave
'S tir "mhajors" is "cholonels" 'n-diugh innt'
Is now the land of foreign majors and colonels.

Thig thugainn , thid co' ruim gu siar
Come to us, come with me to the west
Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Feinn
And hear the language of heroes
Thig thugainn , thid co' ruim gu siar
Come to us, come with me to the west
Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Feinn
And hear the language of heroes
Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Gaidheal
And hear the language of the Gael

Thoir a-nuas dhuinn na coinnleirean oir
Bring out the golden candlesticks
'S annta caraibh na coinnlean geal, ceir
And set up the white-wax candles.
Lasaibh suas iad an seomar a' bhrion
Light them in the room of mourning
Taigh aire seann chanan a' Ghaidheil
Hold a wake for the ancient tongue of the Gael
Se siud o chionn fhad' thuirt an namh
That is what the enemy once said
Ach fhathast tha beo canan a' Gaidheal
But the language of the Gael lives on

Thig thugainn , thid co' ruim gu siar
Come to us, come with me to the west
Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Feinn
And hear the language of heroes
Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Gaidheal
And hear the language of the Gael

Ged a theich i le a beath' an na glinn
Though it fled for its life from the glens
Ged na cluinnear anis muigh i san Dun
And can no longer be heard in the Dun
O Dhutchaich Mhic Aiodh fada tuath
From Mackay county far in the north
Gu ruig thu Druim Vachdair nam bo
Down to Drumochter of cattle
'S iathadh nan Eileanan Siar
But in the Western Isles
Si fhathast ann ciad chainnt an tsloigh
It is still the first language of the people

Thig thugainn , thid co' ruim gu siar
Come to us, come with me to the west
Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Feinn
And hear the language of heroes
Gus an cluinn sinn ann canan nan Gaidheal
And hear the language of the Gael

By the time the song ended Grace's blue eyes were burning with the desire to cry but she had no tears left. So instead she rolled onto her right side, careful of her arm, and closed her eyes trying in vain to sleep once more.

(link to the youtube for the song)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bs_JHxfzAq8

[Sir Kendrew Campbell]

The mists of Scotland curled at the roots of trees. It stretched up, high on the boughs of trees colored in autumn shades; crimson bled to gold, gold to the sunlight of the day. Nothing this beautiful could stay forever


The way life was supposed to be here was patterned by the lives of the peasents who lived here, and those who came from the south among them. Thirty in all from that band. All but one would die soon, but no one knew this now.

The Tale of Twenty-Nine Peasents, Part I

Kendrew: The mists of Scotland curled at the roots of trees. It stretched up, high on the boughs of trees colored in autumn shades; crimson bled to gold, gold to the sunlight of the day. Nothing this beautiful could stay forever. He sorrowed to think the fields fat with wheat would suffer a lack of harvest if a war came. The bounty of the good earth would be ignored and the fields would be salted. "Sir, you're beer sir." The goodwife of a common farmer passed him the sort of stock that only came from a hearth-stored set of barrels. It wasn't the vintage of a great Lord, but the sort he had mimiced by gentry hands. His lady, too, was give succor of liquid to soothe her throat from the many hours of riding. The way life was supposed to be here was patterned by the lives of the peasents who lived here, and those who came from the south among them. Thirty in all from that band. All but one would die soon, but no one knew this now. (d)

Peasent: Their way of life may of been harsh and seemingly plain and simple but it was anything but. They worked hard for their share of daily bread and meal and who was to say their hearth and home were not welcoming and inviting even to the highest or lowest vistor. Husbands tended fields alongside the wives that could manage. As the wife of the only small store in town, feed and simple items that would came from the very land. Swollen belly with child, she couldn't leave the store to any other. The excitement went out as soon as the two riders approached their little village and even Sage could not miss the moment to step out of the smaller encloser to greet the fresh air as well as the knight and his lady.*


Liliana[/b[: Even though those in this village had clearly been through much, Liliana even now recalling ash covered souls, they offered hospitality to them. Taking the liquid with steady hands, a nod of head would be given in thanks. Having been unusually quiet since arriving, throat dry and lips parched, Liliana had watched those around them closely. Paying attention never hurt. Gratefully drinking, letting the liquid soothe throat, she looked to Kendrew with a warm smile on her lips. (d)

Kendrew[/b[: "This is sweet beer," he chewed on his lower lip to suckle the moisture of a taste of a long-ago home. He looked to the belly full of life and smile up to the woman who held the formation of the universe under her craddled hands."Good beer." It wasn't much to say but he was observant. "We grew this grain, on the farm in Dumfrieshire..." Did that farm still stand? The woman, Liliana would witness the contortion of his face as a sickened thought made the bile in the belly churn hard. The sight of peasents moving from one end of a country to the other meant that war followed on their heels. He knew the scent of it in the ash clinging to their skin. (d)

Peasent[b/}: Slender fingers curled against the underside of her belly but she still managed a small curtesy to the knight and the lady as the knight smiled in her direction. "Is there' anythin' I kin gat fer yu tae?" She offered up to them in a singsong fashion. "wot brings ye and yer lady this fer out m'laurd?"*

Liliana: Was this how the village had been where Liliana had lived when young? There were times little things were recalled, small details, but not major ones. Her Papa had been a hard worker and so were those in the field, but others...wellthere had been a lot of idle women wagging tongues. Obviously not all had worked hard. Listening to Kendrew as she drank, she'd smile,"Good memories?" The question was asked just before his face changed and hand would reach out to soothingly touch his arm,"Kendrew?" Looking to the woman, giving a smile, she'd allow him to answer that. (d)

Kendrew: "It is a good memory....aye." He shook his head softly as he turned to take up the fingertips on his arm to bring them to his beer-stained mouth. "Vera good. I only just.." The idle thought was abandoned as they were the source of visitors. Wrapping his arms around Liliana he abandoned black thought for a smmile. She looked like the women of home, a place he had dreamnt of with a yearning to return, if only for a little while. How long did he stay on Fieldren Fields imagining them to be the acres of the farmstead, here his mother's voice, his niece and nephew, on the wind? "Came for news, goodwife. Harvest has been good to ye." He nodded to the roundness of her belly, the glow in her features."What will your womb reap, think you it a lad or lass?" Children were the bounty of the farmer, his hands to help him, his lineage to preserve him. (d)

Peasent: "Oy, wipe yer feet afore ye go in!"The woman called to three small children, laughing and roughhousing within the yard only to make their way towards the building behind her. A firey curled head turned back to the knight and his lady just as a small girl wrapped her arms around her skirts, the spitting image of her mouth and a hand went to stroke the little girls head. "As fer as the village heeler goes, tis te be both. An' dae now or so I be hopin'"A sweet laugh flitted from the throat of the good woman. She tipped her head softly towards the lady"I'm no one tae be helpin ye with tha news ye be seekin', best leave tha' te the men."*

Liliana: Chocolate eyes took in the rounded belly of the pleasant woman. Relaxing in Kendrew's arms, she watched and listened to the happiness as they spoke. Looking to three children, one coming to stand near, Liliana would offer a friendly smile,"You are very blessed." Such adorable children and possibly two more to come! Liliana hoped to someday have such happiness as this simple woman did. A comfortable life with a family, Kendrew at her side, was her only dream.(d)

Kendrew[/b[: "Och. Such a brewd," he laughed, finding himself being circled by one of the children who, bored with the indoors, came to see what words his mother shared with strangers. His face lit in a way that was rare; unaccustomed to exposure the veneer of silence cracked as he ruffled the hair on the child's head. The little girl laughed. "Very handsome children, my lady. Will ye do me a service and keep my Liliana company, I must seek this news o' yer men.. " In the time before he was cast aside, renounced a King, Kendrew would show the depth of his humble origins. Some part of him wished to remain in a place like this! He knelt among the ash ridden and the clean to speak of these matters among men. Gruff voices mingled with tenors, bass alto and smooth baritone. Over cups of beer the women poured he heard of their homes taken, and the people that died. Some talked of returning to this countryside after meeting the King, for surely the English, sons of dogs, lied. "Bruce would nay 'ave our homes taken. Not after Bannockburn, and Stirlin'. Was a man at arms there...but I'd do it again." One said, he was called Leon. The story went on and on..and he asked how far it had gone. "Out to the West sir..to Dumfries..." The words were not even done when he dropped his mug of beer (d)

Liliana[/b[: Glancing in Kendrew's direction as he left her in the company of the woman, Liliana made a note to ask him of what he heard later. Giving a smile to the woman who now chattered pleasantly, keeping a steady flow of conversation, shesat quietly and listened. Stew was brought and more to drink, and she appreciatively ate both. It had been a hard ride. Still...her mind drifted to what Kendrew was hearing talk of. His words of earlier making stomach clench in dread. (d)

Kendrew: "They've gone tha' far south and out to the West Fold have they? Have they burned all the way..." No, they didn't, and so the story went on. What he heard made a man's face who had never turned from anything grow pale. His eyes lost a piece of the light to be swallowed up to look only at the darkness behind his lids. They took up his cup, offered him more beer, and he shared in the plight of the traveling lot. He heard the talk of men, families..eyes searched above the din for Liliana. God, help him, he couldn't tell her! But there were other things to talk of bereft of details on the matter.. one he had turned over in his head a pair of days now (d)

Liliana: When none looked aching leg muscles were rubbed under the table and she found herself left alone as the woman went to tend the children. Sipping her drink now, mind turning with thoughts of hope for the future, she sighedsoftly. They would have one! She was adamant in that. Nothing would stop her from spending many years, into old age, with her Kendrew. (d)

Kendrew: Only God would do that, if he called men of valor home when the time was thought, for Kendrew was twenty years the elder of his beloved. Her dreams of children were what he had cast aside for himself, only to find that other plans were to be had. Were it only one hour or the passage of a year's seasons...he did not wish to go forward without her. Listening to the plight of the meek, salt people of the earth, he realized that his duty would pull him hence to places even her stubbornness would not be able to bare her to. Stealin' the sons of the women, this time will. All our boys will nay be able to do the harvest if the men get riled. Ye know men... He abandoned his beer and rose, moving through the crowd of people with a thought on his mind coupled with his abhorrid vocabulary. (d)

Liliana Earlier it had been thought that she would follow Kendrew to the ends of the earth, but now she wondered...if he were right in calling her foolish. If he were in danger then she would be naught but a distraction. Untrained in ways of battle, she wouldn't be able to save him. He would need to save her and if focusing on her...then he'd be in more danger. Brows furrowing, a frown marring lovely features, Liliana berated herself silently. Foolish, foolish woman. Putting him in danger by being stubborn....(d)

Kendrew: Love to the ends of the earth; no greater stories of devotion came from a peoplehood than those of Skye. Beathag and Adam, Aislin and Eamonn. The courtly ador of the Windsors, and now it was his turn to fashion a sonnet of a simple man in a world of honor and glory. Was it wrong that he wanted no verse of war where she saw the terror or had blood on her hands? So help him, she would not bleed as Beathag had or do no more bandange the ligaments of ruined men. Blade did not belong in her hands...God forbid...they were too beautiful. Too tender, too sweet. He came to her with so much thought of, and so little to say. His hands were cupped against her face as he looked down on her, shielding the gypsy from the wind with the height of his stature. "I want to fufill m'promise to ye.' " muttered the man for whom words could oftne lack, "I want you cared for, and.." (d)


Liliana Approach of Kendrew, touch of loving hands on her cheeks, had brow smoothing. Frown was replaced by the tender curving of lips as love shined from chocolate eyes. "Kendrew I-" Liliana had been prepared to apologize for her earlier,for not obeying his orders to stay, when he began to spoke. Shock spread through her, filled with joy,"And what, my love?" It took all her willpower to ask such a simple question as that instead of throwing arms about his neck. (d)

Kendrew: "Liliana there is a duty to be done...n' it is nay right for a man to go forth without all things bein' settled. I just.." he breathed through his nose as he merely leaned his head forward to whisper in ragged voice. Too full of emotion, it was clear he was moved by the power of it. "I need you. I need to give you my name, and all that is mine. Tha' isn't so fittin, nor romantic but.." He searched so hard for the words but grew frustrated. He took her fingers instead, drawing it to pull out the chain he always wore. Beside his celtic cross were two rings he had kept. Two rings he had mulled over and had fashioned, two rings he waited to give her (d)

Liliana: Some women liked poetry, pretty words of romance. They preferred to be wooed by such talk. Liliana did not require it. One of the things loved most about Kendrew was his lack of such flowery prattle. In a time such as now it was simple words that had heart squeezing and tears filling chocolate eyes. There was no protesting his talk of duty, as she knew deep down that he would go whether she wished it or not, and ears took in each word following with growing love. "Are you asking me to be your wife, Kendrew? If you are then..." Adjusting to press a gentle kiss to his lips, she'd whisper,"I'd be honored to marry you now." She did not need a big fancy ceremony as had been between Balianand Jelenah, as lovely as it was. Simple, sweet, and memorable was all that mattered. (d)

Kendrew "Is it what you want? Were tha' I could give ye an affair at the church door, a high church door. Ye deserve tha', Liliana. But if you will have me now..." He could not write a poem for the life of himself nor recite poetry the sort to make the soft-hearted cry. Amidst the talk of war, the change of the seasons, he could offer the earnest desires of his heart on the cuff of a tunic sleeve with simple rings on a chain. He pulled her to him to drink the wedding wine her lips could make. To rock her ot the tune of the wind and the voice of the people. (d)

Liliana[/b[: "What I want, Kendrew Campbell, is to be your wife. Whether at a large church ceremony or a simple ceremony of us...I do not care. In the end all that will matter is that we will be bound. Always." Allowing the kiss they shared to deepen, uncaring now of what was proper, Liliana reveled in the love of his arms holding her. (d)

Kendrew[/b[: God was good to those who did not know they had need until it was given unto them. He did not tell her of the danger of his home, or the smoking fields beyond the places he may have played as a boy. Instead, a promise sweeter gave hope that he might live to see better times. Instead of swords, it was time to seek a priest of sorts. Scratching the back of his head, he blushed as the wives, daughters, and sisters gathered round the strangers to see what business they spoke of. Och, so you're goin' to make the young lassie an honest one aye? [i/] An old woman quipped with hands on her rounding hips. He muttered, grinning like a boy given sweets as he pulled the sapphire from his chain to settle on her finger. "I have to find a friar first..." Ye just can nay up in do it so improper lad! Thwap! He was scolded for offerng the bride no flowers nor braids for her hair, a gown nor a church door. Was she due to round like the moon. Did he tup with her in hay? (d)

Liliana: As they drew apart it was noted that they had gained attention from those about them. Listening to the words of the old lady, Liliana blushed profusely. It took all her willpower not to bury her head in Kendrew's shoulder. It was not as though there was anything to be ashamed of. What they had done had been done so in love...and that was that. Listening to the words passed had mind clearing as thoughts of happiness bloomed, and the smack brought a giggle that could not be hidden in time. Clearing throat, amusement lighting her eyes, she looked to the old lady,"What would we need to do?" It was clear they knew more than she did! Liliana had had no woman to guide her along in such and none of her friends were here now to ask. (d)

Kendrew: Well ye can nay just go a'off to the friar without some readiness, ye know I had seven daughters tae marry off. Should be done proper! E'en poor people wed proper! Such a man! [i/]Thwap! He was forced to jump back and furrow his brow in disagreeance at the physical abuse, but could not help but enjoy the idea of her being given time to be prepared. There was tradition to uphold, though guilt snagged him. He looked at her again to see if she was sure, for thiswould mean forsaking the time with women of closeness, the memories of moments before the joining .Was it right to take that from one so young?

Liliana[/b[: Suppressing giggles it was decided that she had to save poor Kendrew from any bruises. "I would be honored, as I have no Mother of my own, if you would aid me in this." Words showed respect for the old lady. They were, indeed, visitors to this village. The hospitality they had been given, the kindness shown, was something never to be forgotten by Liliana. Giving Kendrew a look of love, chocolate eyes free of any worry, she'd murmur,"Though I would hope to be prepared soon." Impatient already to be called his wife! Liliana seemed calm, composed, but deep inside her blood sang with joy. (d)

Old Woman Milly: Imagine! The adversary who caused him pain would be in her sixty fifth year, slightly hunched with gnarled hands! Tissue-parchment became her flesh from the ravages of time as she took the hand of youth to lead Liliana on toward home behind a pair of Western facing cottages. My sister n' I will help ye a little. Your not goin' to round with the bairins are ye? Ye know some girls lift their skirts n' forsake the knickers afore the vows. Oh don't blush at that. My sister did it 'ersef. Had two boys tha' way. Hay[i/]. Age begat blunt earnest. What propriety had she, in the winter of her life, to really observe? She had taught a store of morals to her children so that she might be brash now! As for Kendrew, on the outskirts of women's sage council he bawked at the intrustion placed to their affairs. When asked by the men, he mentioned a wedding he was to have, and did any know where the friar was? (d)

Liliana: Led off by the bossy old lady, not in the least offended, Liliana allowed her control. It was to be her day, aye, but with so much limited knowledge of affairs of weddings...it pleased her to have aid. Never would she forget this old woman and looked forward to sharing this story, especially the part of Kendrew being thwapped, with the children they'd have. When the woman spoke of lifting skirts, of bairins on the way, Liliana blushed until copperskinnedcheeks seemed aflame. "Oh...I...uh....we...." Stuttering, unsure of how to answer, she pondered the question and gave a quick shrug. She honestly did not know, but did not think so. (d)

Old Woman Milly: "Do you know 'bout the marriage bed, dearie? You look a little pale bout things like tha'. Ye know tha's wot God put the space twixt your legs there, the cave. Mens likes tae visit it with their snakes, ye see. Mah husband had quite the length!" She smiled a toothless grin and waddled over the threshold of the cottage. "Eh Tilly! The stranger lass wants tae marry n' ye know...he was gaein tae just rush her on can ye imagine. Hey Tilly! TILLY!" (d)

Liliana: Once, when Adira had begun to explain such things, it had been done gently. Pretty words and anecdotes. Never spoken of bluntly. Not that much of it had been discussed. What she knew was...what Kendrew had taught her in the Once, when Adira had begun to explain such things, it had been done gently. Pretty words and anecdotes. Never spoken of bluntly. Not that much of it had been discussed. What she knew was...what Kendrew had taught her in the gardens. Nodding, listening, finally she stopped blushing at such blunt words. Hearing her call for Tilly, words following that brought amusement, she glanced back over her shoulder as if for Kendrew. Though he was off doing hispart she imagined. (d)

Milly and Tilly "MILLY stop ye yellin' at meh! Ye knows I have them headspells...och wot is this now....oooooo she's pretty! Getting wed say ye? Did she pray first? Ye know ye should be pious, makes for a good marriage." Milly didn't believe inthat sort of folderol, for a woman ought cluck like a hen in her own home, but Tilly had been a meager sort...until her husband came home drunk from the inn with the baker's daughter.."Tilly hush!" she snapped, then looked the girl over, "We should braid the flowers in her hair! Like we did for Anabelle's weddin, remember ooh tha' was a fine affair. Ye know girly she had hips just like yours" Smack of the rump. "Good for sons, ye know, me sister can tell ye wot flowers tae keep in your house for boys. I had seven girls n' four sons, why, she had a whole litter o' boys!" (d)

Liliana: Milly. Tilly. Both names were taken as she took in the conversation between both women. Milly seemed to be the bossier of the two. At least that was Liliana's opinion. Head swung back and forth, looking from one to other, as they discussed plans. "Flowers would be lovely..." She did not think the words spoken were heard, but said them anyways. She was glancing in Tilly's direction when that smack of the rump came, making her jump and mouth hang open in shock. Closing it quickly, not wanting to look foolish, chocolate eyes took in her own hips which were being discussed by strangers! Oh, Lord, save me! (d)

Milly and Tilly[/b[: "Ye are sae young! He looks an older gent, older man will take good care o' a pretty young wife. They get damn mezmerized," Milly said, with Tilly agreeing, "My Kincaid was a fifteen year older than me, ,ye see. I was o' some seventeen or sae when I was married tae him. Hard man but was always sweet on me. His brother was a coke though! Always a'struttin about. See he wanted Milly there but she married the cousin, fancy! He came from St. Andrews n' was just a gent for a farmer, gentry!" They both nodded and said. "May you make so good a match! Is he well off? Oooh!" Then Milly went off in her blunt way while Tilly rummaged for the flowers in the plot. "Ye've a good bosom! Oh he will love it! We should fix ye dress tae show it off. Tempt him some. ye know tha' is good for a wife tae dae. Tempt him. We was always temptin' our beaus. " (d)

Liliana: It was clear that though blunt and touchy, these women were to be treasured. They were helping her out and she was a stranger to them. Smiling wide, looking between, she murmured,"Fix my dress?" That had her curious. Liliana looked down at the simple lilac gown. It seemed a bit...unfancy...for such a day, but she had naught else. (d)

Milly and Tilly: "Och, ye know it looks a little dusty, but we have some o' the girls old things about..ye look the size o' Rebecca.." Tilly tilted her head, but Milly said. "Anne, she is like my Anne." "Rebecca...Anne...Rebecca ANNE Rebecca!" So the only way to decide it was to appraise charms! Milly took out a string from her pocket as they wound it over Liliana's breasts and prounced "Rebecca!" Who apparently must have had charms woth remembering!

KendrewElsewhere, Kendrew found himself in a rather pleasant gathering of men, for once! He wasn't being teased by fate with flashes of underwear..why...he was being given beer! They lads talked as if they had known him for years, and even some of the peasent men had cleaned up to find a little joy in it. What else do men talk of but old loves, old courtships...tuppin' in the fields..tuppin' in the hay Going to the brothel. Memories, memories! (d)

Liliana: Rump smacked, hips talked of, bosom measured! To stand still and allow this was killing her! Never had she been so personally appraised for figure. Liliana understood why, of course. They had to figure out what would fit her. Yet,even the seamstresses she had dealt with had been a bit less personal. Biting lip, nodding, she'd look from Tilly to Milly,"Oh!" The idea of wearing something more fitting made smile widen and chocolate eyes light up. "Where?" (d)

Milly and Tilly: They gib-gabbed about how pretty her smile was, somehow everything translated into sons! A smile was good for a son, primrose tied to your wrist was good for a son, a strong brew was good for a son. Advice of the ages was handed down her as Tilly had come back with a dress died robin's egg shell blue, a remnant of spring. As azure as the sky was now, she'd take out the ribbons and replace them with fresh lacing while Milly took up the brush and told the girl tales of her own adventures in marrying off each girl. Rainy wedding days. Spring days. One in winter, and one who had lost the lucky farthing for her shoe. (d)

Liliana: Every single word of advice was paid attention to, no disrespect shown by questioning the wisdoms of elderly ladies, as they took over preparing her. Liliana noted that everything did translate to a son, never a daughter, but knew why. Was it not an honor to give your husband a son? That was what she was told. Chocolate eyes took in details of the dress, loveliest shade seen, as Milly brushed her hair. Perhaps it was the dress or the talk of weddings, but Liliana grew teary as reality set in...she was marrying Kendrew today. (d)

Milly and Tilly They told her what traditions mattered in a home, a warm hearth, and how to keep the floor sweet with scented rushes. Why cats went in the rafters with the dogs in a rain, and the harmony of the earth during the growing seasons for assuming she'd be a farmer's bride the way the man had talked of fields and beer.

Kendrew Kendrew had come from such a home, where his mother had laughed with his sister, and his brother caroused with him. It made no wonder how he ached for what was past him, or that he wished to have family near him again. His laughter was heared somewhere among the company of men. He was lent a clean linen shirt, a bind for his hair. Beyond his uniform, he was as few had seen him. (d)

Liliana: That impatience to commence with the ceremony was growing. Though it was tempered by the butterflies in her stomach. Nerves were getting the best of her now. The light of joy in chocolate eyes filled with worry as the women went on. What if she were not a good wife? She was indeed young. Events of earlier, of her disobedience, made her sigh and bite her lip. What if he grew tired of her? Other women were tempting. She thought of some of those of the court while eyeing her own charms. Taking a deep breath, staring at the ground now, she kept quiet as fear gnawed at her. (d)

Kendrew: He did not ready in a company of lads so had time to think on the lot he was about to conscript them both to join. Matrimony, at his age? Was he better of a gelded man then to leave a woman so young as his widow behind or would she seek a sweeter match beyond their ties to one her own age? (d)

[hotarokaori]

Meanwhile...

“Calm down,” said Kaori, managing a laugh she did not feel. “You’re doing fine. This is completely foreign to you, it shouldn’t be easy.” She felt her obi tighten before turning around and looking over her shoulder, smiling at the chamber maid she had found to help her. “Now look at that,” Kaori said with a smile. “I would think my dresser from Nihon had come for a visit,” she lied. Kay’s former station meant she knew very well what a properly tied obi should look like. This job was sloppy, not just imperfect. But no one in Skye would be aware of what a properly tied obi should look like and that, at least, was a blessing.

Kay dismissed the young girl named Katherine before sitting down and checking over everything. Her hair, at least, was flawless, just like her makeup. She knew how to wear a kimono like a second skin, so an improper knot made little difference as long as it was tight enough. For the onset of autumn, she had donned a golden colored kimono that depicted a tree with red and orange leaves almost ready to shed. The obi around her waist was the red and orange of the leaves. Kay bowed to her reflection, and when she lifted her head, the geisha had replaced the scholar.

“You have work to do,” she told herself, leaving the room. As she walked through the hall of Griffin castle, she received more than one double take. She grinned and inclined her head to those she knew, softly speaking their name as she passed. Those she didn’t know would still receive that charming grin. It was an unusual sight, indeed. A geisha in the halls of the castle? Hardly a soul had even known what a geisha was! It was an odd sight to behold, dramatic makeup and exotic clothing. Geta-clad feet took such small steps beneath the fabric of the kimono the lady seemed to glide across the floor.

Once outside, the footman’s brows lifted as he regarded her. “Lady Hotaro?”

“Mr. Presley,” was her soft reply. As he helped her into the carriage she said with a voice as smooth as silk, “Onward to Blue Castle.” She sat back and patiently waited to reach her destination.

[hotarokaori]

Upon her arrival at Blue Castle, she was very calm, stoic almost. If Kaori was not unrecognizable in her makeup and kimono, the absence of emotion was enough to render her unknown to those who might have figured out who the geisha was. If not smiling, she was often deep in concentration, but animated! She often whispered to herself, hands gesturing to no one save herself. The Nihonnin who was helped from the carriage was so composed, so cool. Eye contact was enough to garner a smile and a nod of acknowledgement, but nothing more. This was not a Kaori anyone in Skye had yet met.

Once within the entrance hall, an attendant rushed to receive her. Seeing the young man was a little hesitant, she made sure to speak first. "Lady Kaori Hotaro would like to request an audience with His Lordship, Sir William Maubrey." Seeing the confusion in the young man's face, she said, "I am here as a representative of our artisans of course." The young man was about to question it and Kaori simply repeated, "Of course."

"Of course!" said the young attendant, rushing away so that Kaori's presence could be made known.

"There's a good lad," she quietly said, more to herself as he rushed away.

And there Kaori stood waiting, clad in silk of another land, smelling of an exotic, spicy sort of perfume that would be unfamiliar to Skye, and looking just as regal as any of the visiting royalty this castle would be used to receiving. She was the uncaring recipient of a great deal of stares and whispers, but as she stood waiting, there was really only one person she had come for the attention of.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The adventures of the people are a time for the ages to remember; will the ancestors in times ahead, look back, and wonder what became of the native sons? Do the native daughters cry at night when they talk of the times?

Wars, adventure, marriages, and the prospects of death.

The attempted death of the Marshall comes first, and all other events that fall after will be how this one moment in time came to be.





Lady Aislin Creed - The morning dew that still lingered in the air, would be just now starting to setting as the day had already begun it's movements. Many started to set up before the sun ever peaked over the horizon, but today, found most a bit slower then the sun, which was presently already up and about. Ships were pulling in and with them, held everything from items to trade, to the Aberdeens and all others whom had left but some time ago. Aislin had arrived the night before on her own vessel, been dealt a swift blow of her husband's firm hand and the two had stayed the night in Briar Rose. Now, as the streets filled with merchants, beggars and traders to show how productive Turas Lan still was, even with rumors of uncertainty in the lands flying about. The people had lives to live and nothing seemed to stop them from making coin. Aislin, Eamonn and a small handful of his calvery were currently in the stables, preparing the horses for the long ride back to Eohmark, where Aislin would be under house arrest by law of the Lord Marshal and her husband. A stoic face appeared on her now clean and delicate features as Echo cooed at her, ready for the chance to take her master for a ride once more. The smells of breads lingered in the air as the local baker had been to work since the early hours and perhaps that alone was a comfort to many.

Lord Eamonn of Eohmark - To be found active at this time in the day was not uncommon for the horseman, for there had been many, many long years forged in military service of rising with the sun and setting long after it had disappeared upon the horizon. Such was nothing new to the Lord Marshal, and after a rather eventual night, Eamonn found himself still tired as he woke. But the trick of the world, or one that any soldier would know, was to keep that weariness hidden behind a mask of stoism, and having years of practise, Eamonn had mastered the trick by now. Turas Lan was a busy place already teaming with life so early in the morning, people rising and tending to yet another day of work. Since the absence of her Ladyship, Eamonn had taken it upon himself to maintain a constant eye upon this fellow Maubrey, a man who already won disfavour with the Marshal for deceptive words and false speeches. One would think the man wished for a throne! Well, he would not have a velvet cushion to sit upon here. Eamonn wanted to do nothing more than to send his head back in a wicker basket to his Lord, Skye's answer to oppression and dictatorship. Unfortunately, Eamonn had been given strict orders not to kill the vile serpent. That was perhaps the only reason that the man was still breathing today. So, for weeks now, since the voyage of Aberdeen, Eamonn had taken residence in the local tavern, leaving his own family--save Aislin who had just now returned from Aberdeen--in Eohmark to better watch the actions and words of this man. Some terrible, cold feeling touched his heart at the sight of the man, but then a sudden rush of white, hot anger endured shortly after. But not at least Eamonn could sleep a little better tonight, knowing that his wife was not in blind danger, or so far where he could not come to her aid. No more. No more gallivanting for Aislin, Eamonn had enough, already much pressed delicate nerves and tried the patience of an otherwise impatient man. Finbar snorted as the dapple grey stallion stood there, large, brown eyes watching as the armour-clad Marshal made sure Echo was ready for departure. Not one ounce of emotion was visible on the lofty man's features as gloved hands buckled the bridle and gave a soft tug to make certain it was secured.

Lady Beathag Aberdeen - When the ships of the Griffin pulled in to harbor, there were no banners announcing who was on board. No cries from a crowd or the tokens passed forward, no tone of great celebration. Indeed, the eyes of people seemed to narrow in study at the constituants disembarking from the swaying gangplanks of the boats who had made it with the precious cargo of life inside. It was said among the citenzry that the contents of these ships was lighter than when they left, a painful truth the Aberdeens wore on their faces between long-filled glances, a wish for better tidings to bring to the shores of home. Rumors flew on the air; wings thick with the webs of stories told of witchcraft, heresy, betrayal, rebellion. The tales of honor were humble, in comparison. Lost to the din of the clans who watched if only to gain more things to talk about in their sumptious meetings with the Lord Maubrey. Lord. She scoffed at the word. She rued the day it was ever created, for that was the day that the true Demon was let loose on Scotland's soil. "All o' the wounded, see they are all taken to the Castle," she relayed Adam's command, for he was worn and weary. They railed at the room, at the people, at the time, to which she replied, "Now." The tone was cold, hard. It was assured that there was no room for disobidience, that if one did not like what was to be said, they needn't live in her country. She stood and watched the last procession of coach carry them from every ship that had come. They, too, held the relations of some who had to flee the country, those near death. It was told that she:The lady rose a rebellion with a wire and stopped it with the hair on her breast. In the North, her harp roused the public enough to take heed while it was no weapon but her own flesh and hair that spared the lives of the Duke and the lady Shaden Aramoire, who brved life and limb to aid them. She stood there again in the small time of the morning, wandering the place that was now home. "Come." She told a boy, a boy who would not let her go for all the world. He had been without his mother, told she had died. Now that she was not so....he would not give the chance for death to take her (d)

Lady Aislin Creed - Aislin knew others would soon be coming, but it was not her place to announce such and with everything that happened in Aberdeen, no doubt Adam and Bess wanted peace of some kind and not to have the people cheer for their return when more ill mannered thoughts were upon them. This had been one of the many reasons Aislin and Aman-ud-Din had been there in Aberdeen. Not everything was as it appeared. Tightening the strap upon Echo's side, Aislin made sure she was ready before the skirts were lifted and she pressed a boot into the holster before lifting her frame upwards to swing skirts and leg over the side of the horse. Taking the straps in her hand, she tugged gently on them to sway Echo to the right and around to make her way out the front entrance of the stables were the other men awaited. Nods and dips of the chin were given to the Healing horse and returned, but no other words passed. For now, the men did not know of her house arrest but surely after arriving at Heahburg, they would know. When the Lord Marshal came out, Aislin glanced towards her husband before falling into stride by Finbar's side. The men moved behind them, taking
Beloved Souls: the horses slowly, for people were crowding the streets to buy and trade, which meant riding full on could get someone hurt. Aislin herself was in no rush at the moment, for she had no idea what this ' house arrest' would consist of.

The Assassin - Upon the roof tops, the figure of a male with three fingers lingered and moved, having waited much of the night for the movement of the Lord Marshal. He had a duty to set out on and he would carry it out for his Lord. Today
was no worse day then any other. A cloak, rolled in the dirt and filth of the streets held his form as eyes peered from under the shadow it created. He blended with the roof tops, but the filth, would be an added bonus for an escape. When he would go to the streets, who would think a begger would be the cause of such an event? Bare feet gripped the warm top of the taven as he leaned over the side, ever so slightly to watch the lady healer move out and rose his crossbow to aim for her. No..the plans had changed. She was not the target today. The Lord Marshel was bound to come out soon and for Alfred, he did not disappoint. Patience and a steady hand awaited a doom, that would be
Beloved Souls: dealt.

Lord Eamonn of Eohmark - Eamonn had been tempted too many times to forsake the words of Bess and risk the ending of his own life or imprisonment if it meant ridding the world of the man by the name of Maubrey. Too many times did he ponder the thought of risking such a thing for the good of the people. Eamonn was starting to regret not taking that action. The small company of riders that he had brought from Eohmark with him were already saddled and their horses ready to go back to their home. No one but himself and Aislin knew of her recent house arrest, but Eamonn would make it known to them and the others within Heahburg to watch his wife with a careful eye. Maubrey's shady deeds would not go unnoticed, and Eamonn also did not want Aislin in the fray of his wake. No. In Heahburg, she would be protected and far safer than she would presently here in Turas Lan. With a boot in the stirrup, Eamonn swung up into the saddle with grace and fluidity, a trait forged by many years of practised riding. Finbar already started to move out of the stables as Eamonn was adjusting himself in the saddle, a gloved hand picking up the reins. The great horse helm was left attached to the back of his saddle, having no need of it for the moment as Finbar trotted beside Echo, keeping pace with her as his riders flanked them.

The Assassin - The bolt of the crossbow had already been loaded and ready, for the man was simply waiting for his target to appear. What luck! His Lord would smile down upon him and bestow much reward and favour for this day, as eyes finally spotted the tall Lord Marshal on the back of his horse. Pulling out the crossbow and adjusting it, the man held it steady as he aimed, one eye closing to judge the distance and direction his bolt would be taking, before both eyes were opened once more, and with the composite crossbow tucked under one arm, his other hand placed itself over the trigger. The tip of the bolt followed the Marshal as he moved closer and no doubt toward the gates. The pad of his finger grazed the trigger, and sucking in a breath of air, he released that breath through nostrils, and pulled the trigger.

Lord Eamonn of Eohmark - Eamonn nodded to a man that he passed by, but his hazel eyes did not linger there for long. After a sweeping gaze about the bustling city, his eyes turned to Aislin for a moment, looking his wife over, before turning back to the path ahead, the gate in sight. Finbar snorted, arched his neck, and paused a moment, dancing to the side with a step. Something was wrong, and Finbar knew it. Eamonn arched a brow, and as he glanced down to his horse, the swift sound of something cutting through the air caught his ear, before the 'something' was made known. That shorter, but powerful arrow of the crossbow slammed into the Marshal's chest, piercing armour and chainmail, through fabric and flesh. The force of the hit was hard, enough to send the Lord Marshal flying from the saddle. His body jerked as the bolt embedded itself deep within the center of his chest, a few inches from its intended target. The impact dehorsed the Marshal, and with a hard and heavy thud, Eamonn hit the stone walkway of Turas Lan on his back. Finbar screamed, and reared

Lady Beathag Aberdeen - "Ah want tae see the sun become old with ye taeday, Aodhan." "Mama, how old is the sun beyond a day?" "Vera old." "Does it have a home.." "Aye, in the heavens, all things have a home..." "Wot about all the people we left behind wot about their homes...." She considered that statement as they walked at a slow pace. Behind them, a trio of guards kept close step and vigil, for the Lord wished neither his heir nor his wife left subject to any harm. It was strangely ironic, all of the consideration they put into protection yet exposed themselves to the vunerable angle without a moment's knowing. Pulled back was any strand of flaxen to reveal the injustice leaving light scar on her face. Scratches from the hands of a King, a baliff. The heart wore the subjucation attempted by Adam, and the burden of Scotland making the vein's blood run slower, cold. Adam was the Guardian of Scotland now, the King but so in name. He made no bids at the throne in this succession of things but others might see it as so. So they called Aodhan what the Bruce had 'little prince' or as he would come to be called The Prince of Ebony. "there homes are far better than a land at war..." which was announced in squares, decided at tables, or with a first shot. Rounding a corner where the business of the Briar Rose was located..she noticed the Marshall's men, and wondered if he or her sister were around. So many words did she have for each until one moment threw them away. Did her eyes see that? One stallion above all others rearing and crying, the sound of armor THUD making a muted sound of leather and metal on the paved walkways. In shock, she did not expect..nor did eyes believe what they saw...but the body? It pulled Aodhan in, and the guard around her flank pulled to the front and sides to shield them in.

The Assassin - Only a second or two were spared to watch as the Lord Marshal's body jerked and slumped before stumbling off the steed. Bare feet clung to the roof top before he slid the crossbow under his cloak and turned to head back towards the open window. Inside he would slip and stay until night fell. Ears perked to hear the outside world, waiting for any cries that may come, or verbal news of his moment.

Lady Aislin Creed - Aislin had not looked to her husband much as they rode, for he was close enough that she could see him from the corner of her eyes and her main goal was to look to others. Not a word was spoken, for there was tension, but when had there not been between everyone at some point or another? Among the crowded streets, she noticed those from the ships and among them, Bess and surely Aohdan was close at hand. A nudge from her side and a sound that she could not describe, had her ocean eyes shifting to look towards her husband and see him slumping over before his body tilted and fell from Finbar. Eyes widened and before she could say anything more, he vanished under Finbar's body, where the horse reared up and began to loudly protest. Shocked, but out of reaction, Aislin quickly tried to grab for Finbar's reins and steady him while the men close by them had already leaped from their horses and moved them tightly around Aislin and where Eamonn had fell. Strong gloved hands grabbed Aislin's waist and yanked her from the saddle to the other side before pushing her against Echo's hide with a armored body. `` Keep ye head low my lady.`` The crowd did not seem to notice that such movements were being made save those that were close enough to Finbar to see men moving in orders, or near Bess and her own guards to see the stances taken. The reins of Finbar were lost, leaving the horse to do as he pleased, which was to throw a fit at current for his rider. Ducking low, Aislin looked under Echo's body to see Eamonn laying on his side upon the cobble stoned street before she panicked and began to wiggle about and climb under Echo to get to him. It was only after a few short moments, that the crowd started to notice the commotion, making many people stop and stare, or move closer to fill in the area around Eamonn and others so that traffic stopped in that part of the path.

Lord Eamonn of Eohmark - Finbar felt the impact, even though it had not been his bane. Still, after nearly twelve years of servitude to the Marshal, the stallion knew him like no other, and Eamonn knew his horse like no man would ever. But Finbar shrieked and reared, surprised by the projectile, but fearing the outcome of his rider. Those in his company instantly went into action, protecting his wife,which was a duty that should be performed. Finbar continued to snort and throw his large head about wildly, hooves dashing the stone as he shifted and turned large eyes to his fallen rider. Sharp pangs of pain gripped him as he laid there, hitting the ground had done little good to improve a blow that he now just recently sustained. Eamonn could feel the thick bolt in his chest, but how close was it to a pulsating heart? Eamonn knew not as his eyes widened and rolled, breathing becoming intensely painful. Already blood was working its way to his mouth as he laid there, and with each shallow breath taken, Eamonn could feel the broken links of chain and bent pieces of metal and leather biting into his chest. The still panicking Finbar only seemed to draw more eyes their way, and when those that were close enough to see the Marshal on the ground and something..sticking out of his chest...did a few women scream. Eamonn groaned as he drew in another breath of air, a husky wheeze following shortly.

Lady Beathag Aberdeen - M'lady, tuck down your head! Close in tight around the women and his Lordship! The commands flew out as quickly as the bolt had sliced through the body of the target, changing the tone of the entire infant day. One of her men went forward, to see what the others had seen or heard, falling in stead with helping to see Aislin was secure before ventuing over towards the lord marshall. When was the last time he had seen the lot of this.....it was Trotternish and Roric, Lord Kendrew's brother, perished. Let that day not be the same as this. The other man drew his sword, while the other began to pull Beathag and Aodhan toward the Briar Rose. Eamonn Aislin?! Her voice was one but many until the Lord Marshall was seen. Odd, instead of panic they were paralyzed with fear, staring with vacant expressions, huddling in groups around the scene. Aislin! Pull the people away from them, now! Eamonn, Eamonn!" She went to her knees on the stoop, for Aodhan had darted out of her arms, in utter panic for his aunt and uncle. The little boy was pushing his way beyond beyond to see it for himself..which set his mother's face in a white palor.

Lady Aislin Creed - With Finbar's panicking, Aislin could not climb under him as well to get to Eamonn. It may have been a good thing to stop someone from hurting Eamonn more, but it was also stopping Aislin from helping. Her heart was racing in her small chest as she was shifted about. `` Get Finbar under control! Ah must see what happened!`` She all but shouted before she heard Bess through the crowd. Where was she? Was she ok? `` BESS?!`` The crowd was shifting and not for the better. People bumped into Aislin and Echo was becoming panicked at Finbar's reactions, moving back and pushing the other horses from around her larger body. People bumped into the male holding Aislin protected and he had no choice but to turn and yell at them. `` BACK...GET YESELVES BACK..`` Finally Aislin moved around Echo as she backed up, shifting to Finbar, who was keeping the crowd at bay with his hooves flying about in the air. Aislin was careful as she pressed herself along others to work around Finbar and dove for Eamonn's body, landing on her knees by his side. Under the feet and legs of others, a figure popped out only to see Aohdan moving closer. Aislin's eyes had only a moment to reach for him and yank him down against her to duck as Finbar kicked out his back legs from the crowd coming too close. ``GRAB HIS REINS! LEAST MORE GET HURT!`` She called out in a firmer voice as she held Aohdan's head down so that he was looking to Eamonn's face head on. Only when one of Eamonn's men had grabbed the reins, then another to pull the beast backwards some, did Aislin let Aohdan's head up. ``Do nay move Aohdan...stay to thee ground aye`` Hands franticly started to look over the front of Eamonn's armor and feel for a pierce before rolling him carefully to his stomach where the feathers stuck out of the armor. The position...she had no idea how far it went in.

Lord Eamonn of Eohmark - How quickly one turn of events could disrupt the entire day it seemed. Finbar ceased to calm down as the stallion whined and protest, nodding his head and pulling back lips to bite anyone that came too close. The crowd did little to calm the stallion down as the horse truly went mad in defense for his rider. Hooves lashed out, pounding the ground as that long tail whipped about. A rider reached for him, but Finbar pulled away too fast, bumping into Echo, who then backed up and bumped into other horses. Bellows came from the dapple grey mount and angry snorts followed soon after as the horse balanced itself on his forelegs as back hooves kicked out. Eamonn could hear the chaos echoing in his mind, but that was the least of his concerns. It was hard to focus on anything but the sharp pain and the feeling of blood draining down your body and staining the layers of clothes underneath. Eyes blinked and closed for a few moments as he struggled to keep them open. How sad it was to open them again, and see your nephew there. Aodhan...where had he come from? Blood was pouring down the corner of his mouth as the shallow gasps allowed little air to come through. It was hard to keep that heart beat slow when it was pacing quickly in your chest, trying to replace the blood being lost. ``..A-aodhan..`` He whispered, his voice broken and cracking as blood gathered in his throat. He did not want his nephew to see him like this...already he had been through too much to be face to face with his uncle who was dying. Finbar's lashing hooves only brought the boy's face closer. Eamonn tried to hide the pain, but even he found it a difficult task as he grimaced at the pain. Finally, a rider managed to seize the reins of the frantic stallion and pull him back enough to keep the Lady and Lord from being struck, or anyone else for that matter. Even then, Finbar tugged at the man's hold, shifting restlessly. Eamonn could not keep quiet as Aislin rolled him, causing him to moved which was something that caused great pain. Eamonn cried out, his eyes closing quickly and another pain-laced grimace took hold. Sure enough, once Aislin did roll him over onto his back, the bolt from the crossbow was sticking out, having on in all the way up to the feathering that lined the back of the short, but thick arrow. Eamonn coughed, which evoked more blood to come running down the corner of his lips. Already, his face was paling.

Lady Beathag Aberdeen - On her knees, she peered through the legs, knees, skirts, and shoes of the people, desperate for glimpses of the boy as he pushed his way for a dominant point of view. Only when Aislin grabbed him did she find only one knot begin to loosen while others choked her lungs, bid her rise ram-rod straight as her hands reached out to comb through the crowd. "BACK. BACK ALL O'YE" It had been weeks since her voice had been heard among the people of Turas Lan, but it was not one to forget. Neither was the strict, strange tones risen in crisis that left no room to be challenged, nary an inch given in command. Those that didn't move she pushed. Taking that example, they all began to pull away. Pulling her skirts in hand, the make of her boots was seen as she darted over the cobble stones. While one took Finbar, she reached out her hands to take up Echo's reigns.." Ro søt mare , fint mare. Være fremdeles nå. være fremdeles." The language rolled off crisp, clever, quick to soothe the frightened creature who's hide trembled underneath her hands. One hand touched the side of her face, moving with her, swaying to her rhythm to ease her down....(Quiet, sweet mare. Good, sweet mare, be still now..be still.) Aodhan reached out to touch Eamonn's hand, his voice bidding him, "Stay...stay. Do nay go to sleep Uncle Eamonn! Do nay go to sleep! Find who hurt mah uncle!" He shrieked while Aislin worked, refusing to be moved far. No! The guard somehow knew not to touch him, seeing something almost feral, instinctually willful in the boy that looked, in his dark hazel eyes..like his mother and uncle peering out form a small face. "Mama! Tell him!" The boy seemed to command from his small place in the matter..Passing Echo's reigns to another..the horse was reluctant to let her go far. Seeing her as a source of comfort and steadiness...she searched out Eamonn's eyes as she said: " Bli med oss!! Liten bror. bli med oss! Behage gods , tar ikke seg! " The tongue of Scandavians stuck hard when she spoke it, (Little Brother, hold on! Hold on! Gods please do not take him ). She hunted for English. Why was it gone? She pleaded with him then in it..Eamonn , holde på! Holde på! " (hold on, hold on Eamonn!) and when the common came? "You, run tae the Infirmary n' fetch those surgeons n' healers Aislin trusts GAE!" She bellowed.

Lady Aislin Creed - How many arrows did Aislin, Eamonn and Bess all deal with over the past few years? Many..enough to know that yanking it out was a serious no go. Aislin was not even sure how long the arrow was, or what the spear was shaped like at
the moment and the feathers said nothing to her save the animal used to make it. Eamonn's verbal repute, was enough to show how severe it was, even if no one understood that where it was within the chest was bad. Aohdan's shouts were heard, but she left the little lord to his own duties as she attended her's. As long as he did not leave her side, she would have no need to look anywhere else. The crowd was swaying only slightly to the Duchess and others before both Bess and Eamonn's men started to grab people and demand to tell them what they saw. Some saw nothing, others rambled on, and more even still made wild stories that could be too hard to believe at the moment. Bess' sharp tongue was heard and even in the language of another, Aislin knew the authority that poored from her. Echo was left in the arms of the white hound, her hide shaking as she sought the calm and comfort anywhere she could by nuzzling the Duchess like a long lost friend. The words were heard, Eamonn needed to be rushed to the Infirmary now. `` Eamonn, do as ye nephew and sistah commands. Do nay sleep yet.. Aodhan, keep him speaking about anything. LOCHAN!? GELDON?!`` Looking about, she found the brothers moving forward before kneeling down by her side. `` We need to get him from the streets as quickly as possible when the other healers arrive and to the Infirmary. Quickly..make the shift as ah showed ye. Help clear a path in the streets. Ah can nay help him here or any where else save there. `` Both gave a nod and moved fast to do as their lady bid. It took less time to use three sheets and tie them across and between two horses so it stretched out like a hammock. Four men grabbed Eamonn to keep him as leveled as they could before putting him between the two horses with his chest facing the sky. Grabbing the reins, they moved in a jog with heavy armor to weigh then down, while Aislin, Bess and Aohdan were left to follow behind much the same, hopefully moving fast enough to not be a target. The men paused at the steps and looked behind them, where Aislin and company were keeping up. ``` DO NAY STOP...WALK THE HORSES UP THE STEPS..GO.`` Already the doors were opening wide as the brothers did as they were told and moved the horses up the stairs without stop, taking them through the doors and into the large hall where healers were already stretching out a sheet and trying to grab for Eamonn to shift him to a room and another bed.

Lord Eamonn of Eohmark - The mention of sleep sounded so tempting to the mind at this point, if it would somehow stem the pain that raced through his body and gripped him mercilessly in its vice-like hold, he would talk it. However, slumber was no friend, and would be his ruin if he gave into it. His eyes rolled again as lids closed for a moment, his gloved hand resting on the ground, but even through the glove he could feel Aodhan reaching for it to offer some sort of comfort, a comfort that wanted to make Eamonn smile, had there not been such an intense amount of pain from any sort of movement. Blood stained the hairs of his beard as it ran down his chin and the corners of his mouth, having yet to be visibly seen, but under the armour, there was quite a sight to be had. At the faint sound of Aodhan and his sister's voice, Eamonn slowly opened his eyes, and turned them first to Aodhan, who was closest to him, and then they drifted lazily to Bess. No...he would not sleep...not if he could help it. It hurt to breath, let alone talk or say anything for that matter, he thought to himself as shallow breaths turned into soft gasps and wheezes for clear air. Aodhan did not need to see him like this. Eamonn tired to hide the pain to spare Aodhan, but Eamonn already had a feeling that his nephew knew that such a wound was serious. At length, which seemed to pass by longer than it truly did, two riders carefully lifted him after having constructed a makeshift stretcher. Eamonn clenched his teeth together and groaned at the movement, making the arrow protruding from his chest more apparent. This wasn't the first time Eamonn had been shot, but then again neither times were decent and pleasant. Finbar paced, and seeing them carry away Eamonn, the stallion shrieked and tugged against his holder, trying to follow the two horses and his rider. Every step could be felt by the horses, steps you never paid much attention to until you were wounded and being laid out. Up the steps they went, and his gloved hand grabbed a part of the sheets and gripped it hard. Eyes shut tightly once more with a grimace, before the horses stopped, only to be shifted again and this time onto another chyt. All the movement was doing little good to help ease the pain, and unable to suppress it, Eamonn cried out, but that vocal utterance ended in a fit of coughs from choking on his own blood, which further aggrivated his chest wounded chest and hastened the draining of blood from his body, further paling his skin.

Lady Beathag Aberdeen - "My lady!" One guard was in disagreeance of where to take her with the others, he wanted to sequester her in the high stone walls of the keep of Griffin Castle, to hide her behind the thick walls as if stone could keep all these ills from her eyes. The glare he recieved! He knew that to even suggest such a thing would be detrimental to his life as the white hound moved with the party towards the infirmary. CLEAR THE WAY her firm, constant tone never changed. Who was this woman, who was so certain? It was not as if she couldn't lead, but the intensity that came with it...if only he could see it, and not like this. Aodhan followed in stride with all, on the hand of his mother though his eye continually sought out his uncle and aunt. Why did people want to harm his family? Why had they tried to hang his father, and now kill his uncle? All of these things he did not fathom, but only fathomed more clearly people could hate with the same intensity they loved. He wanted to ask: "Why do people kill others, and why do so many want to hurt ye all? Why was Edme taken so soon, and why did they hate me." But the truth was he began to piece his own answers together. For one so young? The little Prince was no fool. Up the stairs, behind closed doors, the work began. A cry of pain from him paled her face in unison. "Tell us what ye require Aislin.." The crisp articulation awaited reply to carry out anything the healer, her sister would need. All the while her mind raced. Her thoughts raced. Her heart raced. If the Gods had any sway, if their Father had sway with them, he'd insist his son stay here. They had been through enough

Lady Aislin Creed - Aislin was thinking about how to remove the armor the entire time they were moving towards the Infirmary. How to get his armor off without movingt he arror about too much. When Bess spoke to her, she nearly missed her words as the horses were taken back from the building and all three were moving fast towards one of the seperate rooms where Eamonn was being laid. `` Aye.. ah be needing some people to help me hold him down. `` Aislin's face had to be wiped of emotion, as did her voice, because as always, she could not spare it. There was no time to waste as Aislin moved in and started to call out for materials before she looked to Bess. `` Ah leave it to ye to send Aodhan out or leave him here. `` Lochan and Glendon had already moved inside and were starting to take off the bulk of their armor in the corner as if already knowing what to do. Aislin was already moving to Eamonn's side and reaching for the latches of his main armor to unclasp them so she could pull off the breast plate, carefully shifting it up the feathers so the arrow worked back through the hole it had made. Aislin did it so quick, that it would only vibrate the wood slightly. That was not where the pain would lay. There the damage could be seen as the arrow had went through the hauberk, aketon and deep into Eamonn';s body. Chains were broken and many were stabbing into him when she looked. Reaching for the arrow's end, she held one end and held his body. There would be no yanking this time, Aislin would have to move slow. `` Hold him down. `` Hands reached out, both brothers, healers to the legs, one male holding Eamonn's head down. Bess could take her place now. As straight as she could, Aislin slide the arrow from Eamonn's body, holding one hand down into the chains so they bit into her palm, while the other kept the arrow straight.

Lord Eamonn of Eohmark - Such was the price for loyalty and loyalty that was made known. Because Eamonn refused Maubrey, he was paying for it with his life. Though proof could not be obtained, pieces could hopefully be pieced together, if not by him, then his clever wife Aislin, who he told of what he knew had been happening while more than half of the court were in Aberdeen. Hold him down..Eamonn know what would come soon enough, and inwardly he was dreading the pain that would come. Still, he felt cold, muscle under glove and armour were quivering as the warm blood continued to leak out of the wound as well as from his lips. With a wince he was laid on the bed, and a slow breath was taken. What would follow would certainly not be a pleasant sight, one that someone would question was right for a boy so young as Aodhan. But Aislin was true to her task, and it was her devotion and diligence that had saved him countless times. How the gods smiled upon him for wedding a healer, a woman that could take care of him as he took care of her. Armour was loosened, and his eyes closed, feeling the waves of fatigue pass over him and each time become more aggressive. Even the smallest vibration he could feel as the breast plate of leather and steel was removed, exposing the chainmail hauberk and more of the bolt sticking out of his chest, the links around it broken and a great deal embedding themselves into the wound more. His eyes opened for a moment, and hazel orbs turned to his wife as she got close and in her hand held the end of the shaft, having yet to pull. Oh help him. Others came to hold him down,and rightfully so, as he laid there. As soon as the arrow moved, Eamonn let out a fierce cry of pain, limbs jerking against their hold as he writhed. For having been hit, it was amazing to see what strength one truly could have, but also it was dangers. Glendon held his arm down as best he could, but Eamonn snatched his arm free and a hard fist square in the face made the red-headed man stumble back and fall square on his rear. The next to feel his wrath was the man holding his head, who's jaw had been cracked with another well aimed fist. He too went stumbling back, but Glendon was still quick on his feet, even though blood now ran from his nostrils. Shoving Eamonn's arm back down, he put his weight down, ignoring the scream of a healer receiving a hard kick with the weather-worn boot. The pain was so intense, Eamonn very well neared the point of passing out as the thick arrow was pulled out, and with it, more blood to send the wound gushing blood. Eamonn still howled out in pain, his voice becoming all the more hoarse.

Lady Beathag Aberdeen - At first Beathag clutched Aodhan's arms to keep him at bay. This was not the sight nor the place for Aodhan to offer his aid, and should be in the care of a nursewoman while the adults went to the task of black business caused by one aother's hands. "They are hurting him!" He cried, to which she hid his eyes against her. She would have left with him then were it not for the physical bonds her brother began to conquer. The men of his regime and those beneath any banner in Skye were strong, but they were not the giant of a man the Lord Marshall was. His hand was a hammer, knocking men hither and yon like flecks of seed from a dandelion stem. He began to write, to flail. It became too much for even his sister to bare, and with Aodhan holding to her skirts not long after she ran in the openings. When his hand was coming down of the hammering arm, she caught it in her own. "Eamonn! Eamonn....Ah'm here Aislin' is here..n' this will pass! This will pass...Ah promise you.." As one pulls on a rope to reach the shore from the sea, she pulled closer up it, until she could come to the head of the bed. "It's gaein tae pass..hold on tae me. Hold on tae me until it does." If he kicked and flailed, he'd make it worse, limiting the time Aislin had to seal the wound, to cease the loss of blood. So much already was gone! It came on her hands from his, on her arms but still she eased his head against her when it rose up,and his shoulders against her front as well. Her voice didn't waver, it didn't break as a stone in a sea would be a refuge for any lost. She'd weather the current..take all his strength."Don't ye let gae.." She still held to that hand, Tight. Assured. Aodhan crept beside her to whisper in his ear.

Lady Aislin Creed - Ah shyt, Aislin thought to herself as Eamonn's arm broke free and she had no choice but to pull her hands back from the arrow and hold them up, watching as Eamonn took out one, then another and finally the men were back on him as Bess came to help offer support as well. Aislin moved up, straddling her husband's tasset's to add weight onto him and keep him down. It amde pulling the arrow out more difficult and she had to pick up the pace. Blood covered it and as the tip came out, she could see how far it went into her husband before giving it to the woman by her side. ``Do nay let that outta yer sight. That be evidence. `` Of what, she had no idea. Quickly, tools were passed between her and other people as she removed the chains and cut into them, before doing the same with his aketon to push it back. Blood was pouring quickly, but the pain was yet to come as liquor was poured onto Aislin's hands before she pressed one palm to his flesh and pressed two fingers, the pointer and middle, down into the sliced wound to feel within Eamonn's body and brush her fingers against the torn muscle, then feeling the harden bone. If Eamonn did not pass out by now, Aislin would have someone knock him out. There..her pointer finger brushed along the bit of chain that the arrow had pushed inside and carefully, she pinched it with her fingers before using her other hand to spread apart and pull it out. It too was added with the bloody arrow before Aislin's hands were cleaned once more and she was getting herbs and wrappings to pack the wound with before she could even have time to react of think. Her husband's blood covered herself and others when he thrashed. using both hands, she pressed hard onto the now cloth packed wound and waited. Her fingers could not work past the bones, so she had no idea if organs were hit. `` Now be time to pray to any God's ye all serve. `` Aislin did not believe in a higher power..so she had only herself to ask for help on.

Lord Eamonn of Eohmark - Eamonn inflicted his fury on anyone and everyone he could, not by vindictive choice, but provoked by the pain of an arrow being pulled out of his chest. It was pure agony, and he wished it to end, to get away from it all. But it was inevitable. He would have to endure it, and once all was said and done, beg forgiveness from Glendon, the man who now had a cracked jaw, and the healer he sent a swift kick to the chest. The voice of Bess caught his ears, but his mind was reeling with pain and guttural agony to hear her words and process them. Bess grabbed his head and upper shoulders, holding him close, as Aislin straddled him and once again continued to painful task of pulling the arrow out the rest of the way. Eamonn growled and cried, his face pale but the slight tint of red could be see from his thrashing and strains. Once the arrow was out, Eamonn sighed heavily and moaned, a moment of peace. Each time his chest moved and lifted for a breath, more blood seemed to seep out, and Eamonn could feel it as Aislin cut away the links of chain and the fabric of the clothes underneath. Eamonn had not been prepared for Aislin's next medical torture as closed his eyes, missing her dip her hands in alcohol, until she dug her fingers into the very wound the bolt had just been in. Eamonn screamed loudly, bucking against his wife and thrashing all the more as his head arched back, exposing his neck and the blood that ran from his mouth and down his chin. Overwhelmed by waves of harsh pain and agony, Eamonn could take no more. Eyes rolled to the back of his head and with eyes closing, Eamonn passed out, without the aid of another knocking him out. His body went limp, and those that held down a limp could breath at ease a little more as Aislin worked as quickly as she could to fill the wound with herbs and other medical needs. Eamonn recalled nothing the moment he felt into darkness, at the mercy of the gods and the gifted hands of his wife.

Lady Beathag Aberdeen - "It will pass...it will pass.." She told him over and over, a mantra that the falling believed would be the breath of wind under broken wings to send them soaring again. Her face became resolute in displaying only the firm, staunch portion of the soul that held her face constricted of anything but breath, or the eyes that followed. With Eamonn to keep still and Aodhan to keep aloft as well no tears came to her face, nor did the voice tremble. Instead of prayers she told the crying man the stories of youth. Frost giants, great towers holding ancient gods. Battle grounds, duels for excellence. Scandavian epics and talk of old heroes that marveled the ears of the young while teaching the heritage as people who did not often read knew how. If the Gods took it as prayer, so be it. It was for Eamonn's comfort and her son's ease, not theirs. When he ceased to struggle, inwardly she felt her heart lurch. What was better? His fits or the ragged breaths in their ears now? One hand released his, if only to smooth his hair back, and bestow a kiss to his forehead. "Ye wife works well her hands.." she said, as if to convey this known fact in deep subconsciousness. If anyone should be praying - it need be that assasin - for when he was caught? The guards would be holding both the Duke and Duchess back from slitting the man from navel to nose onsight....Ooh...her mind already workedup a face just for the pleasure of ripping it off with her bare hands.Scotland would not try ot take her husband only to turn and take him, no, it was not done.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

From the Escape of the Lady Griffin, the Women, and the Battle towards the country beyond Aberdeeshire in the North

Beathag "Do nay linger, come!" She'd hissed through the stones like the wind in the crevice, calling to the shell of the ear with a voice that carried too long, lingered to well in the corners. In an alcove her eyes became sharp green jewels to glitter like a cat to light the way. So it had been when she went through the servant's passage with Ina. One by one she gathered them to inhale with her the dank of the old passages. Hands grew slick from the moss, the sheen on the stone the same as the perspiration slidingdown the brow as they seemed to twist mile after mile. The regal woman was attired in breeches of mule gray, soaked beyond the knee. A child clung to the light linens on her back, secured by a tartan blanket of blues and greens. He hid in the wool: The Heir of Skye, the black child. Called a devil's spawn for the Gods giving him the earth in his flesh. His mother? Satan's whore, strange, for one who's hair became the candle that flickered bright in the absence of the torch. One by one she gathered them. One by one Ina whispered instruction as they twisted right..turned left. Descended in to what must be catacombs. Through mud, an underground lake, out to the otherside of Aberdeen Castle. Of the women she paid close attention to those who grew afraid, those who might cry out, and the one who carried the child called Seanna. When she cried she said, "Give her to me," for the child was as good as her own now, for the Admiral cared for Aodhan so well..he would not let his only pass away. "To the wagon, there." Prickly straw would be all the cushion to spare their backsides as she climbed up, reigns in expert hands. By now they had made way beyond even the city wall...so it was in the open country she snapped the reigns and stole away as the Witch she was fabled to be, with her coven of women (d)

Dora: (Dora) Sharp and steeley eyes slid back and forth in her squinted eyes, a face weathered with too many days of life in the openAye? What be this here? Come a spillin' outa the bowels o The Castle like so much ," and she spat to enphasise her dislike, "Like so much dung! Bah! These I got to see for meslef, upclose. Lest they escape her rightful rage. "Begone ya hootie rabble scrabbled vermin!" and with that the old ragged woman spat in the direction of the wagon, as it passed her and her companions nearby. Several farm workers were on their way to glean a field for grains leftover. Old Dorie had another clunk of mud in hand and snarled at her"betters" (d)

Balian Windsor: The guards made one grave mistake in thinking the lion could be caged quietly. Crimson stained the fine fabric of the pale cloak of the veteran knight. Shackles tightly clung to each of his wrists with broken chain lengths dangling from his wrists. His eyes were blood shot, narrowed and fixed toward the north while his palm gripped the long bloodied heap of hair from the severed head in his hand. Each bootfall thundered against the dirt path leading him toward the headless guard still on top of his mount. A jerk of the reigns hauled the stallion toward him throwing the body to the dirt giving Balian a new ride. His thrust back to send the horse rearing onto its hind legs before lunging back into a hard run. He leaned into down into the saddle while throwing the head back over his shoulder. He rode clear through the night into the north, pausing only to look for new clues or tracks to lead him on thejourney to find his sovereign and wife on the run and give the horse a short rest and a drink when he could. His heart raced his mind lingured on the most horrible things. He prayed to the Gods above that he wouldn't be to late, he made a pact with the fates to find them well and safe for his very soul if they called for it. He couldn't live a moment in knowing he failed he couldn't live a heart beat without his Jelenah. "No!" He snarled and kicked his heels back again to speed that horse back along.He didn't care that he was now an outlaw of Scottland all he wanted was the people he loved safe. He rode clear through the city gates and soon enough caught sight of a second set of horse tracks on the trail he had now been following for over a day. "Fasta!.. ..Fasta!" He nearly hugged the shoulders of the horse giving its head room to run even harder knowing those tracks had to be gaining on them just as he was. [d]

Jelenah: The lil fair haired maiden did well with keeping up with her Lady Duchess and sister. Of course, this was not the first time Jelenah had to run for her life. No, in fact, this was run number three for the blonde woman. First from slavers, then other kingdoms due to war, and now... now this. She couldn't believe it when she herself as well as the others had been arrested, but what really blew her away was how people thought her to be a witch. The Slavic woman was truly upset that these very same people not only accused her and others of being such a thing but that they had saird horrible, terrible things about her nephew and his mother. In muddy tattered skirts and all, Jelenah continued to look over her shoulders many times. Old habits died hard and she wanted to make sure they weren't being followed. She should be a pro at this by now and the fact she was torn didn't hekp. While she and the others were on the run for their life, her mind wondered about her husband. Her heart ached to know what had happened to him and where was he this very moment. Thoughts would be lost for a moment as they reached the wagon and once all were with in it, she would relax of course but not much. Aodhan was on his mothers back hidden, but as soon as the wagon began its course, Jelenah would speak up. "Bess, let me have him... here by my side and I'll keep him covered, Seanna too. We'll all lay low and hide." <d
Adam: Adam worked his way thru the corridors that she and Ina had told him about... their brief interlude before Robert sending an inside guard... It was that inside guard that angered Adam... and to the extent he murdered the guard to escape... not one but three......In his escape he found Robert's captive... and his friend Shaden in a most problematic situation... It would be this that Adam would be seen exiting the corridors... carrying a nude and beaten Shaden... wrapped only in a small blanket... the bruises and cuts evident even in the dark... Thru the exit, the Duke made his way to the rendevous point... seeing Bess at the reins of a wagon... "Bess... wait... here take her..." he laid Shaden in the wagon... then handed Bess the satchel with the King's emblem upon it and the griffin lap harp Shaden took from Robert...... "Luv... let nae one have this... tis land deeds Maubrey wants... and proof dat Robert is selling tae the Ainglish..." then he starts to turn back... only pausing the look at her... "Ah luv yae wit all mae heart... forgive me... take care o' mae son, raise 'im right.... but Ah must finish something vital..." then without listening, he walked back to the dark corridor... taking one last look at his beloved wife and son.... he waves::::::



Rosalind: Rosalind often wandered the corridors at night. She had little better to do, being of a restless nature. Her idle hands often stirred the pot, as a dear friend said, and she found it relaxing to tour her familiar routes before bed. She was perfectly unobtrusive, and it was amazing what Rosalind's ears picked up as she made her way past the rooms occupied by friends. Her host, being of the "keep your friends close and enemies closer" variety of Scot, was keeping quite the full house lately, and Rosalind had very little reason to be loyal to anyone but Lady Mary at this stage of her life. She swept down the hallway, mind pondering various events of the day, and her eventual escape from the Campbell-Lamont debacle. So full was her mind, she did not notice others combing similar routes... *




Beathag: The words of the events at Aberdeen had know doubt reached the enigmatic Lady Mary. It reached others, old and young, some who were the generations raised after Bannockburn. We were fed on stories o' valor n' now live in the shadow o' a lie. The mind said what the mouth didn't. She gave Aodhan to her sister, kissed the forehead of Seanna. Both children seemed to understand what was expected of them. Going to Jelenah's arms they would obey what she and the others would ask of them. A mop of Irish flame curls were constant beside the dark golden locks of the brown-fleshed Both were heirs to something. One of a fallen land, the other of one too close to the brink. What will ye take from me now, Scotland. Two husbands ye've swaddled against ye breast in the soul taken their blood to the sea, will ye take the third, who should have been me one n' only? Is it nay enough ye have anyone e'er tha' blood was shared tha' I loved? What is ENOUGH? The mind said what the mouth didn't. In silence she took the offerings from Adam, one of music, one of paper. The Griffin Harp would be as good as their own regal seal, while the papers would seal the fate of the King. In silence she listened to his instruction and nodded. Pulling him forward with his collar cuffed up in her hand. That hand next brushed his face, lips took in a deep kiss. It took no great wit, no sage to understand how of all that she loved, she loved him best of all. She understood the sacrifice this, that fate, might ask of her. In silence she creamed, as the heart did what mouth would not. It only kissed him...her eyes on the road as he watched her become a figment. Mud was slung at them, the horses reared. Rocks were chucked and the few night people in the fields did not even receive her glance as she became akin to stone (d)


Shaden: She had struggled at first when Adam hefted her into his arms,, his touch any touch sending her into a panic.. until he had soothed her with tender words.. causing the instict of fight of flight to withdraw..slighlty, enough to accept his help... thruough the corridors they moved her in the arms of the Duke.. only one of many precious things he carried out to the waiting women.. Lifted into the wagon. she groaned as her body changed positions stiff with misuse and abuse.. she clung to the blanket about her.. like a shield.. seeing the curious and pitying looks of the others. she sough the furtherst distance from them she could.. hugging againt the side rail..like a wounded animal (d)


Ealora: How she had figured out where the Duchess was and the meeting for her escape as well as the escape of her women, would go to Ealora grave. The woman wouldn't tell secrets that weren't her own but from the darkness the figure seemed to materlize like the very witches some of the women were being accused of being. With her she brought a canvas bag, food that she placed in the wago. She would not be accompanying them but had come to see their safety in escaping, to make sure they had everything they needed for this was one battle, she could not join. Her place was on the sea and from here she would leave with the wounded to return to skye. As she placed the bag within the wagon speaking low to one of the ladies of its contents, she felt a hand touch hers fighting to a grasp of the rail and eyes lifted to find Shaden. Her stomach did a summersalt, her heart did a dance. The combination making her sick as well as the


Aegraine: (Dora)"Look! Her got lilly feet, too delicate to trod the ground , like us good folk! " "Her with a cart and us nary a straw to stuff a mattress with! " Dora knew what needs to address when she spoke to the moltry crew of the field gleaners; all spare stick thin and not a shoe among them, in this weather, no less. "If that be a lady, let her prove it and give us that need that cart. She and her kind, they gots strange ways. " The Elderly woman held her arms across her in a protective gesture and muttered, "Good Almighty! Save yer children from them that got the 'course with the Evil one incarnate! " holier than. "Get 'em. "There were snarls and wild curses from the several serf level farm workers, with no way to better themselves but to feel holier than others. cart! " One after another caught Dora's mood, until one of the others said"Get a torch and throw it in the straw! See if they sizzle!"


Balian: The trail gave way to the horizon over a foothill to set his gaze on two men riding hard ahead of him. His chin lift and his hands released the reigns to reach back over his shoulder, one gripping the black woven hilt of the nameless sword the other coiled around the handle of his axe. The riders circled back around confirming Balian's suspicions. "Mother.. Fu" He ground down on his teeth while each rider rode straight for him. He exhaled a soft breath a moment before the impact of the riders and threw his own back against the hide of the horse the axe rocketed forward to claim the torso of the rider to his left and his sword collided with the sword of the rider to his right while they rode past one another. The force of the blow nearly threw him the rest of the way from the mount before Balian could pull himself back up to glare back over his shoulder while he circled the horse back around for another pass. The guard made his own turn back around and in what seemed like a lifetime passed the two collided again. This time Balian's sword slammed back into the guards while he ripped a dagger up from his thigh and drove it straight into the mans eye socket. "Give meh regards to boatman and Hades." He let the body drop from the saddle while his own head snapped back around toward the north before his heels wrapped back into the horse once more to continue the ride. Soon enough he could see a wagon in the distance, once more his hand came back over his shoulder to grip the hilt of the sword baring the crest of the white talon while he galloped up on the wagon and passing its side kicking mud and dirt up in his wake to come level with its driver and soon enough the wagons precious cargo, the children, ladies and most important his wife. His hand slipped free from the sword with a very large pain and weight lift from his chest. They were safe. His head bowed. "The road is yours.. Your Grace." The ninth gate of hell opening wouldn't take him from their side. [d]


Jelenah: Jelenah made sure the chikdren were covered very well, not only by the tartan blanket but atop of that the hay as well. It was no secret it served as a good insulator. With the weather cold as it was and the children as small as they were, they would need it. When Adam came up with not only a woman, but other things as well, Jelenah would only watch in silence. She recoginized the woman, Gods... what had Robert The Bruce done to her? Her heart suddenly went out to the battered woman and once she was settled, reaching over the children, she would cover or attempt to cover her with hay too. "It will keep you warm." She quietly said. Though, it seemed in no time that as soon as the woman got settled, another would appear and take her away. Blonde brows lifted in confusion and then she'd have to duck while an arm secured itself over both Aodhan and Seanna. People were throwing things at them now! Sapphire eyes began to caustiously look around and somewhere in the distance she saw a horse making its way toward them. On it a very large figure and at first, Jelenah began to panic, telling Bess that someone was following them. However, as the figure drew closer, the image more clearer, a weight was lifted off her shoulders. It was her beloved husband and how relieved was she to see he was alive, so much so, she was near tears. A glance was made in the direction where the other two women had disappeared and she truly hoped that whatever the plan was, both would be safe. <d



Adam: Adam took one last look at the wagon disappeared into the night... this is the first time he faced danger alone since he met Bess... but he had fought alone before... he just had to readjust his thinking... thinking he did as the Green Knight of Tyne... he sighed and entered the corridor... making his way deep into the King's Windmill Castle of Aberdeen... He didn't have Bess, nor Eamonn to think for him, or provide advice... As he wound thru the corridors... he continued to think... devising a plan to unravel Maubrey... and to restore Scotland...:::::

Rosalind: In one room in the servants' wing, a game of dicing had long since been abandoned. When she peered through the crack in the door, only one soul was still awake. He was singing into his jug, a mournful little tune nevertheless unrecognizable to Rosalind. As she watched, he slumped over to his right, and landed atop his unconscious neighbor. She shut the door, assuring the overworked servants this one night of complete hedonism. Why not, when such rumors about the Bruce reached even his sister's ears? She left the middens and made her way toward the courtyard. All was quiet. Temptation to flee was so very great, but she could be a patient woman. She pulled her rosary from the pocket in her tabard, the jet beads a comfort in her cold hands, weighing her back down to this earth. Joined, momentarily, by one of the servants, she ducked her head to listen to the latest gossip, and soon Rosalind cut a new course -- back to Lady Mary's suite of rooms. Her lady rarely slept these days, either, a fact little known to most, including her lord husband. She strayed from the Fraser guards, lowering her head as she walked past them. She had no need of their kind of trouble tonight. Entering Mary's room, the lady looked up from the papers upon her desk, and soundlessly, bade Rosalind to give her the news. Mary's slow smile was not relief at a quiet night among the servants, but at hearing mischief was afoot in her brother's domain. *


Beathag: Her mouth was a hard line where nothing moved in nor out, not sound, nor breath. Nostrils flared as hard as the horse she whipper-wheeled about down the road until the passage was askew with the ignorant rabble being roused to pandemonium most religious. Torches. An old woman's hands to heaven calling on an absent God to move the motives of lesser mortals. They would toss pebble at the horse until he reared so hard it almost turned the wagon over, spilling the contents of babe and maid. The reigns were pulled firm across chapped, bleeding hands. For the first time in a pair of hours the eternal silence was dimmed. "Ina, take the reigns. Jelenah. lay low." Balian did war with the guards of the myth, the legend of Scotland. Their blood all ran the same and the Duchess was intent to prove that fact. To the first man that climbed the wagon wheels would come greeting of an arrow head between his eyes.He dropped his sickle, sneering. "Go home, or ye will have no home left. Go tae ye field, or they will die. The last harvest will nay come." She whispered words to be mistaken as curse. Why nay! To the unlistened ear: He took the arm of Liliana and tried to pull her down, shouting. Witch, black mass whore! She cried out, the poor handmaiden, fighting until she sobbed for release. Her vindication was in the hands of her lady. The arrow split a skull, spattering gray matter in her hands. She pushed the convulsing body away to be washed in Scottish rain to carry red to the rivers. Recoiling into the arms of Aoife, Liliana turned her face into the shepard'ss shoulder. The children, that she brought with her were huddled behind Jelenah. "Go!" Ina took advantage of the moment, abandoning forever her place as a servant in the House of Bruce as the wagon now move on towards thick roads, away from the beaten path (d)



Shaden: " Angels.." her devasted voice wispered as Jelenah hands piled hay onto her , comfort againt a cold she could not feel, those dismal prayers and God had sent Angels to her.. in the form of first Adam.. and now.. her eyes captured Ealora.. standing beside her like a specter.. apperaring to take her home.. perhaps she was dead.. already and this.. was what came next.. things were out of time.. meanings twisted upone themselves.. this is what happened when days of torturefinally caugh up with one.. Standing beide her heartsister.. in the road as the wagon dissipeared.. she seemed frozen.. shell shocked.. like a child that needed tending to.. Wherever Ealora guided.. she followed numbly..(d)



Ealora: If God had ever answered her prayers, he had only done so once. She could only pray and hope that he would answer her prayers now. Weak as it seemed, to keep the Duchess and her ladies and the children safe. Shifting her weight, she swept Shaden into her arms. Rag doll that the woman was. She didn't feel pity, she felt her sisters pain and rage. White hot and blinding. Perhaps it was for the best for it gave her the strength to comb through the streets, keeping to the shadows, unnoticed as odd as it was, one woman with another in her arms,back to the docks and to the Shadow Storm.*



Aegraine: (Dora)Witch! Witch! They be a coven in a cart! My poor Melvin! What have ye red devil seeded hooties done to me Melvin? " She stood and glanced at the cart, then looking over at the rain sodden lifeless of her kin. Old Dora I hain't one to give up on yer fox trail, ta Hail, ye wicked, wicked woman!I swore I am a gonna track ya until I see you again, ye blondie! I swares it, by the Lord Above!!" (d)


Balian: The peasant uprising would be met head on with the drawn steel of the lion unleashed circling back around the wagon to plow through the mob breaking it off the wake of the wagon. "Disburse! Or.. BY THE GODS! everyone of you.. Will die here today!" Pearlywhites bared with a low growl curling under his lip while the sword spun forward to backhand the first peasant man across the cranium with the flat side of the sword. Front hooves battered the grounds in warning to slow the mob and give the wagon time to break for it. Balian was reserved from killing peasants but that's not to say he wouldn't if there was no other choice. But likely the sight of the soldier would have them thinking twice about their mortality. He glanced back toward the wagon if only for a second to wink toward Jelenah before the sword was lift to aim at the peasant doing the bulk of the shouting. "And you.. ..Will surely be among the dead." Another throw of mud had the sword rushing upward to claim the mud to bat it straight back into the face of the thrower with blind perfect sword percision. "Ride!." He called back toward the wagon. He spat and loosed the axe from his back while the sword whipped back down to collect the throat of the first peasant to die by the knights steel. The axe cracked straight down splitting the forehead of the next open. His boot snap kicked straight on to throw another off the side of the wagon to get mauled by the mighty stallions hooves. He spun the axe back in his palm while his blues narrowed on another reaching for the back of the wagon only to whip that axe head forward to splice through the air before claiming its mark against the mans exposed spine. His free hand now lashed to his left to throw the chain still hanging from his wrist shackles into the neck ofanother peasant like a whip to throw the man back into the mud gasping for a breath through a closed throat. Just as Ina took the reigns of the wagon and broke for the free rode Balian gave another glance back over his shoulder before throwing the bloodied steel toward the heavens and driving it back into its sheath while he stayed in the wake of the wagon. Throwing the finger up over his shoulder to the old woman. [d]


Jelenah: With the horse rearing and making the wagon nearly become the ground. Jelenah huddled closer to the children, bringing herself closer to them as much as possible and shielding them with as much of her frame as she could without smothering them or hurting them at all. They cried out and she did her best to soothe and calm their fears. Once it was back under control,she saw Liliana being handled. She'd of course yell out in protest before that was dealt with by none other than Bess herself. She was glad Aoife was with them and now comforting Liliana since she herself could not. Jelenah's eyes of wide sapphires then turned back to see her husband. She saw the wink, smiled faintly as she was worried, scared and now spotted what was left of his shackles. That gripped at her heart, the sight of such things on him reminding her how they felt on her own skin and how she hated he was having to feel it. Soon however, wagon and company were on the move again and Jelenah made sure she herself and the others remained low and covered as much as possible for the time being. The children pulled to her as much as possible while head did lift periodically to check on things.<d -


Jack Flynn: As Skye's raiders had withdrawn from the infamous Windmill-Castlefort-at-Hill prison, their daring exploits had a rather dramatic conclusion. By the love and will of the Gods, those of Skye had reached safety, there had been a deep and baleful rumbling in the earth. One that seemed to tremor and growl, before it happened. Before a peal of thunder exploded. Not from the heavens. But from the earth. A gout of fire, shower of pulverized stone, and the prison's powder magazines had been destoryed. On the docks of Aberdeen, the crew of the Immram would turn to stare at the glowing hill. At last, one of the crewman remarked, "There be tha Cap'n." (d)


Adam: In the corridors, dark and dank... Adam found the room where Robert was passed out on the floor... between the beating he gave the King, and the alcohol the man had drank... the King was none worse for wear... Peering in the room, seeing Robert alone, he opened the door, then walked to Robert... picking him up... muscles starining under the dead weight of the man... eventually getting him to a moveable point, Adam got the King into his bed... and covered him up... "Mae King nae more... wot hath thy done? wot daes it take tae make yae see... yae kin protect Scotland wit out da Ainglish... Skye would bae dere for yae... but naew yae side with the Ainglish... yae ave harmed Skye folk... people ah luv wit all mae heart... and faer dat... Ah would raise mae sword agin yae..." Adam wiped a tear away... he loved Robert... they were swordbrothers... and now... he would kill him if necessary...::::::



The Bruce: Poor King, asleep in his bed. Alas, alas! The empire is dead! The people have fled, the faith in it is dead. All mourn deep with a bow of their head...such a rhyme might be recited in later years when the drunken king was put behind an effigy of stone to while away the years in eternal rest. For now, the Bruce waited. Gravity, inertia. They move the form of any man and stir a consciousness that couldn't sleep forever. One eye twitched, the other remained sealed. In bed...Adam would tuck him in as a brother would another. He cried a tear at the deed to be done, but at killing the Duke? The King shed none. "This is MAH SCOTLAND" He roared to life, pulling from under pillow the blade at the head. "What a spineless, snivelin' boy ye be Adam, the hell cat you married has more coke than yeself. Perhaps she will beget her own heir!" He pricked the flesh of the Duke's arm, pulling back in the bed clothes. Drunk stumble, only once. Still, aim was accurate. Beligerent men were deadly. "Could nay beget her a child. Weak seed, like your weak spine, weak reign. Tell me what they will do to your women when they find them? Do you think they will burn in hell? I fancy they will!" He moved forward, teasing Adam as if to slit him from navel to nose, then withdrawing. "I need a new whore now tha' the franco-italian slutton has been used up I need a new...distraction. This is my land, o' Heir of Skye....and if it is by your Death, oh..you will know it!"



Beathag: Peasents were called from their homes to the square, where the criers came to tell them the news in the Autumn rain. "The Coven, The Coven escapes head long in the night! If thou sees the Coven, kill them! To bring back a limb is to collect a golden coin, a body shall be gold sovereigns! The Coven!" The forest became eerie, mist filled. White clouds seemed to form ghosts with the shadows in a morbid wedding of elements. The naked branches reached down in the close quarters to prick at the delicate countenance of each. Aoife held the sisters of the Ambassador Morgen Grey close beside her, sushing them with Manx lullaby that swooned the creaking wheels, wind whistling over beaten roots in the under dark. By now...the night wore on deep and dark. Many miles were behind them, but many more now they had to go. For Jelenah, Balian became a'kin to a star, and she asked if her sister thought of Adam, but Beathag again said nothing. How do you say you are afraid to lose again, or laugh with sorrow at the hand fate deals for you to hold? Ahh, to hold. No path is without adversity, and theirs would be no different. In a dell that came, the wagon went down a slipper slope, and the horse's footing became less until it toppled. What held it up? The blunt end of weapons..and eyes that gazed..but who! (d)


Balian Windsor: He recoiled that loose chain back around his arm for now to keep it from hundering his movement even more and kept riding behind the wagon with an eye to the terrain around them. Fatigue likely would have taken its toll on a man by now, but adrenalin certainly kept him his sense of thighs heightened. When the wagon hit the slope and started to slide Balian hauled back on the reigns of his own animal while its hooves back peddled along the glide downward he threw himself backward off the horse before being crushed by the animal. His shoulder smacked the soil hard causing a gasp of breath to break through his lips. His eyes widened seeing the wagon topple.[d]



Jack Flynn: As the last of the Windmall-Castlefort-at-Hill's attackers, the contingent of sailors from ships of the Griffon Fleet, came stumbling back up the gangplanks. Although they had fought in an element not of their own - give thema pitching deck and the caress of salt air - the sailors had given a good accounting of themselves in the prison's laybrithine passages. It had been the unfamiliar halls, and serendipity, that had lead the sea-soliders into the castle's powder magazines. Instead of their desired target: the prison cells. As it was, they had fought well and left a great burning hill in their wake. Aboard the Immram, the walking wounded were quickly helped aboard by the able bodied. The last man to come striding up the gangplank, smelling of gunpowder and with a marlin spike resting against his left shoulder, was the Irishman. As he strolled up the gangplank, his voice was already bellowing orders to his loyal crew: "Master Gibbs! We 'ave 'pparently o'erstayed our welcome in tha fair city o' Aberdeen! We shall, in tha' case, be makin' our leave! See ta it tha' the Echtra recives tha same orders!" As he strode toward the middle of the top deck, he paused, smiling wolfishly to the galleon's gunnery master, "Master Barnes!" There was the briefest of pauses, "I 'ave made a promise this night an' I aim ta keep it.... when we 'ave made 'alf tha distance betwixt 'ere an' tha 'arbor's mouth,I shall be allowin' ye ta get yer eye in. An' then ye may fire as ye are ready...." The Irishman strode toward the sterncastle. There was a pause, "Iffen ya please, be usin' shot tha' 'as been heated first, aye?" The wolfish smile returned, before he continued on his path. (d)


Beathag: The wagon landed in a soft patch of moss, but the contents of it was askew across the dell. Ina's misfortune was to hit a tree alongside Jelenah, for whom the children, thus in her arms,, all spilled their legs upon hard roots. The Aoife tumbled head over heels in to the tall grass, while Liliana was the victim of thistles. As for Beathag, she was consumed under the wagon's interior, the horse giving protest to the tangle of his torn tacking amidst being pinned. ....!

[strongjustice]

Dirty deeds done cheap…!! Alfred had hidden in the loft most of night… nay did he hear the proclamations of the Lord Marshal's death and this concerned him… still, after the crowd below broke up, he exited the loft under the cover of darkness… back over the wall and to the Blue Castle… then he scaled the wall with nimbleness to Lord Maubrey’s room… and into the window…

Upon the morn’s rays of daylight that lit William’s room, the man now dressed as a Scribe opened the door opened… Alfred bowed and backed out of the room… “I shall finish yer journal later M’Lord…” as he backed out and closed the door… That was all he said as he smiled at the guard before standing erect, his small stature much lower than the guard… ”That man is such a pain in the arse…” Alfred commented to the guard… “He can read and write as well as any scribe… but yet I must transcript all he talks about…” the guard simply “hmmphs” and asks… “Then why dae it M’Lord…?” Alfred laughs… and pats the pouch of coins attached to a waist rope… and the guard laughs…

The plan was in motion… the orders given… the bolt sent to target… and Lord Eamonn lay dying upon a bed… He would be able to keep his fingers! Now, the assassin, should his identity ever be discovered, had an alibi for where he was that fateful night… Scribing his Lord’s journal…And now… he had orders for his next target…

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

In the streets, the mists rolls in. The nights are cold. Autumn is here, winter is nigh, but there are places in the heart already frozen.



Beathag: The mist from the rain at sunset still hung low; midnight's encroaching hand was close to reaching the hands on the clocktower straight upward, but that was still a few hours away. It was a quarter past nine, so mathematics said to keep track of the number of bells that banged brass notes out on the air. Autumn. The sea was chill with it, the trees heavy, golden crimson, or coming to be nude with it. People huddled closer over the warm meals and drinks, the streets only so full of life at this hour months before, had thinned when the darkness came sooner. Her ears though were full of their talk. All day their talk. It had not been that many a day since the ship arrived the carried her from Aberdeen with a husband who, still in a place of ailing, said little of the time his wife saved him. She began a rebellion with a wire and ended it with the air on her breast: That was the talk of the hour, of how one song made the North stand against the King of Scots, and how her vunerable flesh spared her husband's life and ended it. From the vantage point of one square she could see the sea slap the sides of ships though not the docks, see the castle looming high which she did not of yet reside in. Destiny to the front of her, destiny to the back of her...at her feet, the blood of her brother. Eamonn, the Lord Marshall, had been shot with a crossbow. Aodhan knew no sleep over this until, exhausted, he lay curled up beside his ailing uncle. This is what became of one who crossed Maubrey, a man whom even now delighted some clan or other at Blue Castle. A world away, things had fallen apart. At home, they were coming to reign in hell. Grappling with reality, she pulled at it as she pulled at the hair wrestling between her fingers. Her steps were many, the destination unknown.
The guard who roamed with her was called Gregorian, the same as the chants that monks were said to recite in prayer. He was not Kendrew, but he still knew enough to stand in his stead for the Lord Guardian, the White Hound's very shadow, was a rogue in Southern Scotland. Would he return..could he? She didn't know. But tonight she would begin to piece together the answers of what she did know, for she was not the same woman who had left the docks those weeks ago (d)

Shaden: The Shadow Storm had come into port.. with it.. it's many wounded and now meading people of Skye.. one of those mending was indeed the Courtesan.. whom about rumors of all kinds flew.. Witch of the Windmill.. some called her back inAberdeen.. the Flame of Skye.. others who were more leaning towards the Rebels of Skye would say.. there were supposition.. rumors and downright lies.. gossip.. about not only the Flame but the Shadow as well.. The Pirate Captain.. and what of the cargo beneath the decks of the Shadow Storm.. one Lord Statham.. well.. to the depths of the Scottish seas.. where no one would ever find him.. his corpse weighted on a sandy plane.. beneath the cold harsh waters of the country he sought to steal away for Maubury. As is was.. The Flame.. had flickered.. almost extinguisehed against the brutality of a King.. but hope.. and tenderness had been her salvation.. her " Ame Jumelle`" her twinsoul.. Ealora... her steadfast and constant Lover.. Jack.. and her LionGaurdian.. all seeing to it .. that she knew..there was a fate and destiny at hand.. and that she would not.. fade away.. would not be extinguished.. but come back to life as a roaring bright burst of flame against the darkness.. there was a reason to the maddeness. even if it wasn't revealed as of yet./(d)

Ealora: Where any of them the same? Who went off with hope and found themselves in battle ever...in some way did not change? Combing the sands of time. In just a few short weeks she had gone from being a bloodthirsty pirate, to a loyal citizen of skye and yes even a witch, the Shadow Witch. Who knew a courtesan and pirate could plan and pull off a rescue of the knight Kendrew. How many people had wiggled into her life without her knowing it? For one, she had given up being that which she had loved most, for love, she had given up being a pirate, scrubbed, painfully the mark of it from her body and tearing the fabric of it from her ship. For her twinsoul she had parted the waters of the sea like a knife, stained the waters red all for justice. She was stronger because of the two of them where she had once sneered at it like love was a weakness. How did it happen? A series of unexpected events that thrust the cold hearted witch into the seas to drown. A glimpse and the pull of the woman beneath to the surface. She had been saved, but did they know? Did any of them know how deeply her loyalty was now to the land which she traversed now, curling through the streets without any known destination, without soaking up what street she had left and what one she was on now. This was her first autumn, ever, ansd the winter, would it be cruel for she knew nothing of cold nights. she had preferred to keep to warmer waters, away from anything resembling the cold she had once felt. Tugging the Captains coat tighter around her body, celadon eyes shifted to look upward. Oh Fraggle Rock, where the heck was she?*

MaahesThe port came with a rush, but he had felt time to inch by as the days resting outside the doors of the Ealora's quarters. Shaden and Jack had been given the much larger bed, and Maahes was simply giving them privacy. However, he had not wanted to be far from his little sister. Jack had been a busy man, with preparations for his many gadgets so in his absence the Beast had done everything to step in. Even now as she walked the streets he was but a shoulder behind. As if she were Royalty, he would press away those who got to close, ease her over larger puddles in the road, and if she would let him he would simply carry her. Yet, Shaden was a warrior woman behind perfectly painted eyes. Who knew warpaint came in lipstick to match her shoes? As the tavern was drawing closer the outlandish behaviors of drunks could be heard, no doubt would unsettle even the most brave, but with one surviving what she did a friendly hand couldn't hurt right? The much larger paw of the overgrown more like a bear then lion took the little vixen's fingers within his own. "Tell me what needs to be taken, and we will move it closer to home." A home she was going to get rather she wanted it or not. (d

Jack Flynn The Griffin Court had gone to Aberdeen to try to pen a newer and brighter future for the Gaelic peoples of the world. A single man's cruelty and disregard for his subjects had written something else entirely. Had they been surprised at what they had recorded on History's pages? Perhaps. Save of one: the Irish rake Jack Flynn. The tales that now circulated in the lands of the Griffin Court did not have the ring of Scottish tales. They had of Irish ones. Stories of glory in battle, torture, and retribution. And, like all Irish tales, the Griffon Court's journey had one of the wild and capricious fae in it. Who was this fae? None other than Jack Flynn himself. the ring of Irish ones. Stories of glory in battle, torture, and retribution. And, like all Irish tales, the Griffon Court's journey had one of the wild and capricious fae in it. Who was this fae? None other than Jack Flynn himself.
There were stories circulating amongst the taverns close by the docks, tales that would set a chill the spine. Tales of how the Immram and the Ecthra had sat placidly in the middle of Aberdeen's harbor. And of how, suddenly, the Irish píob mhórs - or great pipes - had cried into life. How the píob mhórs had given a haunting, wild, and beautiful air. As the ships had begun exacting retribution for the people of Skye. As the Irish Captain had laughed heartily as his ships had - in the words of one crewman - "shat fire" into the city of Aberdeen and racked the inner walls of Aberdeen's harbor defenses. The Irishman had told the Bruce, true and clear, that an action to bring pain and suffering to the people of Skye would be met with destruction on the seas and shores. And he had tried his damnedest to keep his word. But on his return to Skye? When he had returned to Skye, he had reached down and flung his arms open wide to receive his daughter. Jack wrapped his arms around her, slowly spinning upward. Seanna laughed and giggled as her Da held her close, then hoisted her up to sit him on his shoulders. As the Irishman made his way through the crowds of Turas Lan's stress, he did so with Seanna perched on his broad shoulders. She beamed about, for the first time being able to see above the teaming throng of people. Jack was glad to be home. And relished having his daugther with him once again. (d)

Jack Trades -=As the tavern was approached, and the meandering crowds parted, they gave view to a heap of black oilskin cloth topped with a broad-brimmed hat resting near the door of the tavern. It sat motionlessly as if sleeping while a battered tin cup kept it company on the cobblestone walkway. As a passerby would drop a halfpence into the cup, the wrinkled brim would dip slightly in a nod as a tenor voice rang out in a distinctly English accent=- Bless you kind sir! (d)

Beathag Beathag walked at a pace that Sir Gregorian had little trouble keeping up with in step, but the length of the stride required more on his part. The words of instruction were clear, not to be deviated from: She was not to be alone. In a crowd of people, at the accompaniment of the former novice priest she felt the command she was not to be. Others would have their respite. They would have reunions, they would talk of these times and be soothed. They would smell the scent of fresh bread at dawn, taste salt on the air, and know a comfort that was alien to the Lady of the Isles for the Griffin was now the Guardian of all. Tavern door opened with the sound inside spilling out. Alms offered to the alleged poor, and she moved on with no mind to stop. "Your Grace, you have not eaten nor slept." Gregorian's voice was a mixture of Franco-Scott. He was a man of some Norman ancestry, smooth and pious. "N' there will beh none fer meh, Sir. If ye watch wears ye, another will take the post for the time. Ah have nay slept much, if any, in weeks. Ah see little reason tae begin the habit now." The subject wasn't brought up again. He abandoned it as they walked on. Wind blew back her hood to reveal the long braid that spilled over a shoulder, the whisps that wouldn't be tamed...like her. For once, she did not see the company of people on their way forward for in some way her mind was too busy backwards, retracing steps, people, and places. "Ye must be a scribe o' sorts fer meh until we fine one proper tae record wot I wish. All those who came with meh shall want fer nothin'. They may put forth a wish n' see it granted. N' when you see other commanders, ye tell them tha' none o' them are tae be without guard. Wot e'er we must dae, how e'er many it takes , nay a one of them is tae be left alone.. triple the guard around mah family." There was the Flame, there was the Shadow, and then there was the Spirit, the thing that lit it all together, revealed every corner and facet. Her eyes were hallowed with not a lack of sleep or want of it, but witha purpose so deep it did away with the need for it entirey. (d)

Shaden Warrior? she felt more like a child.. afraid of the dark.. had it not been for Maahes Presence she would have probably never headed off for the Briar Rose.. where her things were stored.. and her two most preciouse possesions cared for.. One.. the orange Tabby Cat Leo.. and the second her..not so trustworthy Steed.. who while being a beautiful sorrel mare.. was most often times a brattish churlish..mule acting equine..but all the same.. one of the Tendresses at the Tavern had agreed to take care of them.. for a small fortune. She almost laughed. at the oddity of Maahes..the most feared warrior in the land.. sheparding her like a lost lamb.. it was.. a thing she would cherish in her heart forever.. When Drunks or loudness would fall into the streets.. she flinched and startled easily still.. slowing until he caught up.. her fingers twined in his , gathering his strenght into her own soul.. a deep inhale..was raggedly expelled before she looked up at him oddly.. " Taken.. whatever do you mean... I'm lodging at the Briar Rose.. not going back to the Shadow Storm.. " it had already been settled .. she was in no condition to help with the fighting.. would be a hinderance in her current... state of mind.. if not a downright dangers... Confuision riddled her face as she turned it up to his.. the shadows of bruises still there.. but fading thankfully.. back to a proceline like visage, yet still within the depths of her eyes something dark and foreboding lurked.. it was fear.. it was then in the circle of light that was expelled from the Inne's windows onto the cobbled street she would hear a familiar voice. with an unfamilar inflection.. what on earth was he doing now? (d)

Ealora: Shoving her hands inside the slit at her throat, she fairly looked like she was going to strangle herself, fraggin cold. She had all ready decided she didn't like it. Boots thumped against the ground as she hurried down the streets, there was a presence at her back, unseen, she felt it but could not see it. Never one to not turn and fight, but she was sick of it. Sick of blood, sick of the woman she had once been. A pair of hands shot out from the darkness to tickle at her sides and she let out a help while whirling around, her wrist caught in midwing by a laughing Sam. Celadon eyes flamed"Sam! you!" Wrestling her wrist away from him only to punch him in the stomach. The man doubled over direction"That's not funny" He retorted. Ealora brow shot upward, try me. She turned again, the Briar Rose was in sight. Ahh blissful warmth. SPLASH. The icy water hit her like a ton of bricks. Soaking through russet locks and into the black coat she wore. "Yeeeoowww!" Ealora let out a yelp as the icy water hit her. A glance up and a woman was stammering an apology, bucket in hand. This...did not just happen the look on her face seemed to speak as she pulled her hands from her jacket to ring out her hair as she headed towards the Inn. Warmth and a stiff drink, Yep, she needed it right about now.*

Maahes: "You, little sister can sleep wherever you wish." He spoke in his stoic voice as eyes kept forward on the street; scanning every shadow..doorway..window. "You shake like a leaf even now, Majesty. What makes you think you will last a night here without your Gypsy." His lips curled into a small smirk as the form of Trades came into view. "Shouldn't you be begging for forgiveness and not coins, Jack?" Spoken with a small kick to the bottom of the man's boot. However, within a matter of seconds Maahes went from big brother, to big trouble as the sound of Ealora's voice raised in the distance. Instantly he snapped his eyes in the direction of his, wife and quickly let go of Shaden's hand to move forward to the puzzle he put together in his mind. Sam. Sam's face was behind the soaked Pirate and Sam's face would instantly start turning purple as an oversized hand came to clasp his little..neck. "Why did you do that?!" He hissed only squeezing harder, but still waiting for his answer. (d

Jack Flynn: Seanna near squealed in delight, as she pointed out over the crowds, "Look,Da! Tis anti!" Jack pretended to no to see Bess. "Where?" What would the other folk make of it. Of seeing Seanna, head and shoulders above the crowd,begin to turn in the wrong direction. Seanna continued pointing, twisting around to keep pointing - as long as she could - at her anti. The li'l girl pouted, "Ddddaaaa!! Anti's o'er there!" Again, Seanna pointed at her anti. And her Da 'accidentally' turned in the wrong direction again. "O'er here?" Seanna humphed. And, deciding she'd had enough of her Da's behavior. She picked up her Da's tricorn off his head, gave him a gentle thawp on his head, "She's o'er there, Da!" She pointed again. "Oooohh," Jack laughed, "O'er there....." And the two headed toward the tavern. As they neared the tavern, Jack took Seanna off of his shoulders and put her down on her foot. Jack smiled as he looked down at his daughter, "'Old me 'and, luv, till we're inside." Seanna did as she was told. Of course, as soon as father and daughter were inside, Seanna squealed again, "Anti!" And then she was off like a shot. Running for her Anti, her arms wide for a hug. (d)

Jack Trades: -=The heap of oilskin quickly grew up the wall of the tavern as if a monstrously active plant, straightening to a standing height. The English tenor was quickly replaced by the usual hearty timbre rumbling under the brim.=- Why beg fer that which is nae needed? -=As Maahes departed, the tin cup was gathered up and a calloused hand cupped Shaden's elbow with a gentleness beguilling its marred digits.=- I was beginning to wonder when ye'd make it. I've already made arrangements fer yer departure. -=The voice continued on without a pause to brook any potential argument.=- I know, dear. I know. But first we must find a spot safe enough first. (d)

Beathag "Ye will sit, your Grace. Ye must." Gregorian had a calm, cool sort of insistance that inspired a bit of logic in the woman, one might even notice the half-hearted side of her mouth twitching at a chance to move upward. The inspiration wouldn't come from him. They crossed over the threshold and into the center of conversations with familiar tones. Still, her focus was not moved. Gregorian was right. If she didn't sit, if she didn't sup on something meager she would be useless, and now was not the time for it. Fear could grip the heart, with how fast she came down to a knee. The Knight in her company tilted his head to Maahes, Jack, Shaden, and Ealora in apology as he parted through them for fear his charge had fallen ill..only to find her arms opening to take in something sorely missed. "Wot are ye daein' here, girl? Dun ye e'er sleep little babe, sweet one?" She littered her face with kisses, holding her as tight as she had Aodhan when they had been reunited. Gods, if any knew how Jack Flynn would have felt at a moment to hold is child it was her. "Ah've thought on ye e'er day n' missed ye thrice as much.." Her voice was warn for wear but warm for the ears of a child, a tear that had not been shed at the sights in days seen fell if only for her. "Ye came with ye Papa then, is he keepin' ye up tae late? Mm, how shall ye grow tae be as tall as us iffn ye do nay rest..." The pair rose, and as if in late shock she noticed them all. Canting her own head in greetings, she kissed Seanna's forehead. Thank Gods the child had returned safely. (d)

Shaden: She scowled at his use of Majesty, princess and Queen.. she knew he though her.. prim and prissy.. useless for the most part.. and to be.. coddled for the rest.. would she never be a positive in his eyes? she was about to retort to the Shaking like a leaf.. and the Gypsy comment when her hand was dropped, an alarm coming from the nearby alleyway.. her form fozen in fear.. not able to move as he rushed away.. toward Ealora's scream. The he was there.. the very touch of Jack's hand to her.. setting her into motion spinning around to him as if he were a lifepreserver.., the shell shocked looked nodding soflty no.. argument.. for once.. just wide blinking eyes giving over control to him.. before she looked back.. over her shoulder.. taking a deep breath.. " You should go help Maahes.. I will.. be fine here" it sounded doubtful even to her own ears but it was a brave attempt .. to act.. as if she were the same as before..(d)

Ealora The brute force of the beast passing her made her clutch to the wall only to turn and find her first gaspin for breath, turning a shade of purple and wiggling around like a worm on a hook in the grasp of the man that was her husband. Rushing to the two, she tugged at Maahes hands, unbudging, damn it! Jumping, she threw her body against his arms. What a sight, the seawitch, the shadow, whatever she was called, her butt wiggling for all to see as she usedher weight to break the grasp of his hands from Sam's neck"It was the window above, Maahes, le' go!"Sam was indeed flailing around like a worm on the hook till the grip was loosened, saved by his Captain again and the man stumbled back, laughter gone as he coughed and sputtered"Are you daft man?! As if I'd hurt her!" The man made a rude gesture at the beast as he set his hands to his knees and coughed inbetween pulling in gasps. When Sam finally got his breath back, he balled his fist and shoved it through the hoop in his arm at Maahes before the coward took off into the night. He could be brave against seafolk and pirates, but not THAT man. Ealora let out a sigh as she gripped at Maahes arm, not only to keep him from going after her first but because she was shivering like the richardens. "What the fraggle was all that?"*

Aslan Burning: Boy that man really was a fruit. Was there a bend in the hips too? Maahes's eyes narrowed at the fruit, and nostrils flared with his threat. Nothing of course would be said, but lord it was being though. Turning in stride to wrap his arm against the small of her back, he curled her into the crook of his arm. "I thought he had splashed you." Would have been something a seaman would have done right? No pun intended..ok yeah maybe there was. The damp clothing of the captain chilled his side and instantly his brows drew together in worry. Therefore, without word he lead her inside and straight for the hearth of the fire as he was not about to have her sick. Passing his gaze in the direction of the toymaker he made sure to signal them on when the time came, but most of all just wanted to check on Shaden once more. She was good with Jack, of all people he trusted that man the most. Returning his attention to Ealora he sat beside her against the cushioned seat and ran his hands down her arms. There perhaps was a little look of I didn't know any better. The same look a child should give it's mother, but it faded when he took a deep breath; that being all of the apology she would get. Amber orbs would pass about the room then taking hold the sight of Bess and Jack Flynn and his chin would dip in a bow. Respectful. (d

Jack Trades: -=A soft chuckle thrummed reassuringly within the barrel chest.=- Methinks Maahes will be just fine. -=An arm extended, lifting the folds of oilskin cloth to quite literally take the shaken Shaden under wing. The thinly veiled frailty of her responses had not goen unnoticed. There was a pause in the voice, but the demeanor of the walking talking shadow did not change as he slowly ushered her inside.=- I think ye'll be pleased. Can I interest ye in some tea? (d)

Beathag: As one Gaelic soul to another, Flynn and Beathag communicated with a few nods, a few passing words in a language dying by the hour on many mouths. Sieanna, having no part in wishing to leave, could remain with her "aunt" and her guard. "Ah can take 'er back tae ye ship, m'friend, n' then on the morrow perhaps ye will stop by the infirmary aye? Aodhan needs tae see her." She whispered the last. It was too much of a reminder to think on what her son had seen. Things no child should see. The little sprite of Ireland was set down just as Maahes paid his due to her. "General." she said, before her backside found gravity's rule with a ready want to obey it. The chair that she met was fortunatly placed, a sigh in spite of herself born from relief. Rose looked up from her work, and instantly sent a girl about the room to see what the party wanted. Personally, she darted right over to Beathag and made a great fuss (as she often did over those she knew) of what, when, where, and how could they go about looking all like ghosts? "I'll send ye back with food for the family, dun trust any others tae feed ye well 'nough cept the castle folk and word is the lot of ye haven't set foot there yet!" The woman went on, and Beathag nodded her ascent. As if to know, the little girl crawled right back up into the Highlander's lap and began to rub at her head, which did make Beathag smile. "Ah'l ltake some o' ye tea Rose, see iffn ye can chase this blight away.." (d)

Shaden: Enfolded in warmth she leaned into him gently.. " Tea would be good" she smiled.. that soft tender smile that was reserved for him.. alone.. Once inside she caught sight of Maahes and Ealora.. her eyes finding both theirs in reassurance they were alright .. and that she was in.. good hands.. they settled near the hearth at a table.. reluctant to leave his warmth.. but welcoming the chair.. and the aroama of the tea when it was brought, fixing them both a cup heavily laden with Lemon and honey aginast the chill.. her gaze turned back to Maahes and Ealora " They make a fine couple.. I am happy they have found their way.. at last.. " she sipped then looked back at him... thoughfully... knowing the discussion of where he was taking her was not for public.. there were too many eyes and ears about.. and none knew better than she.. that a spy could lurk in the most innocent looking faces or the most least thought of places.. but in Jack she trusted.. her hand reached for his in a tender caress.. she didn't have to say anything it was in her eyes (d)

Ealora: Her mouth opened then closed. He was ready to kill the man for splashing her? Lord all mighty, lets just have the two of them duke it out tomorrow! Have at it and be done h it. She could not help but let out a honeyed laugh at the look upon his face. That look for an apology and no words and all ready she was brushing it off. That man had a hold on her that was for sure. Unbuttoning the sodden coat, she slowly struggled it off while he continued to rub her arms, that friction and the warmth of the fire chilled icy bones. Celadon eyes moved to catch sight of Bess and even Seaana and she smiled at the pair before her attention focused on Shaden and Jack. A smile was offered to her twinsoul, her sister. They were fine, she was fine. Shaden would be fine for Ealora had no intentions of ever letting harm come to the woman ever again. Not if she had any control over it. Even minimal as it was, Ealora could sense the fire of her sister, glowing perhaps dimly at the moment. You'll ignite again sister mine, it takes time. She thought before turning her attention to Maahes. "I'm going to put you and Sam in a closet and let the two of you duke it out, I've decided that just now you know."A teasing grin curled her lips into a smile.*

Maahes: Eyes then passed her the "oh that wasn't funny look" knowing that if Sam came out of the closet the rest would kill himm anways..so he would win.Either way he'd be fine with it. "I'll not be closed up in some dusty closet with a girly man." He muttered under his breath, "You would lose your first mate, and me." Leaning forward he pressed his elbows to his knees, and tired shoulders gave their cry for attention as they cracked under his neck. However, the mood was light there wasn't any reason for him to be so darn grumpy all the time right? Returning a look over his shoulder the Pirate, he rose a thick black brow. "Unless that is your plan?" (d

Set In Her Way: "Auntin, ye are sad."Seanna was a child of plithy intellect; quick, sharp with the expression of a child of three, nearing four. Was she so transparent? She drew the little girl close, running her hands over her back while Rose served her customers. Two orders of tea, one for Shaden,and one for Beathag. "Ye ulcers are botherin' ye, or ya wouldn't touch tea." She nodded and laughed a little, "Tis been a harrowin' few weeks, Good Rose..." "How fairs his Lordship..they was just 'ere nay e'en a day ago it seems. Times make the folk anger." At the expense of that anger, poor Rose was losing valuable pieces of china and furniture to local frustrations. The tea mug in Beathag's hand was safe, for it came to the table instead of her mouth. It was as if she poked some unseen thing, making her head come into an upturned hand by a propped up elbow. "Ah dun know." How do you tell the people around you they left one place of danger only to exsist in another? How the hell do you tell them that it isn't finished? "Rose Ah dun know...any way ye look 'pon it he looks awful..n' the thought o' after...Ah can't bare tha'." (d)

Shaden: The tea consumed warming them both.. as the night grew late.. " Can we leave in the morning.. it's Late.. and I'm cold and tired.. and do not.. think I could ride anywhere tonight.." a hopeful glance was cast up at him.. she just wanted the comfort and warmth of a fire and a bed.. with him beside her.. sitting here she felt as if all eyes were upon her, that they all knew..she felt open and raw.. and wanted nothing more than to be away from the prying eyes... When he nodded and stood.. she was so grateful she wanted to kiss him.. and leaned forward only to touch his sleeve wth a soft gesture.. " Thank you " she whispered.. as he guided her up the stairs and to the room where her things had waited paitently while she was away with the court.. and to a bed.. that would soon hold a dreaming couple.. in it's warm embrace(d)

Ealora: Of course it was funny, she continued to grin as she shuffled in behind him on the cushions, leave it to the egyptian former pirate to have no regard for propority. Hands came up massage his shoulders and lower back. The big baby. "Oh I have faith the two of you would work it out."She leaned in to whisper in his ear"In a lot of ways you two are alike, he is a big ol teddy bear most days and your a teddy bear with me."She hummed a soft laugh before wiggling to sit on her legs and press a kiss against his shoulder. Celadon eyes lifted to the Duchess. She was glad she made it away from the castle all right. There was tension, she felt it in the room, in the streets. Everything could not be the same, Ealora knew it all to well. Perhaps the Duchess could count her as one who knew it all wasn't over yet.*

[Sir Kendrew Campbell]

- After the escape from prison and the battle at Windmill Hill.. -



Saul The Inn that Grace and Saul had been at was attacked by the soldiers against Skye's forces. It had been well planned and executed, but the only flaw had been in how Saul had set the spring of the trap loose. He and Grace had come to just sit, and see if they could find a way back to Skye, but what they found instead was woman hungry soldiers anxious for a good piece of submissive ass. Saul denied them Grace, striking down the men who tried to kill him and Grace. The attack was launched, and the Skye soldiers had been beaten, but not by a long shot. Three men had survived but pursued Saul and Grace. Saul eventually squared off with them, killing them all one by one and freeing grace from the groping hands of a nasty Captain. When they returned to the Inn, Saul put Grace in a room while he cleaned up the mess. The Skye soldiers he drug outside and lined up, the others he piled and burned. The smoke was black and traveled high in the sky, likely attracting some attention from nearby garrisons. (d)

Kendrew The Inn where Saul and Grace tried to rest was the same where Kendrew came to gather himself. In his company were a few men, a few men who managed to remain together despite the lives tearing at the seams of reality. What a shyte piece of fabric it was! Outside of the inn, a wagon of goods was covered by tarps and stuffed with hay to hide the stores of weapons taken from the raid of Windmill Hill. He didn't expect to find battle so soon..no..he prayed against it. Men with piece meal physiques went up against the enemy - brothers, cousins, perhaps even fathers. The scene of the battle passed before his eyes in a slower, prophetic like motion that made him remember every face, every word. In this dream like place he saw Grace's face and wanted to reach for her, but it would only be at the end of the battle it was done. He approached the pile of bodies though didn't bawk at burning flesh. He was worse for wear, but articulate. "Ye..are the one with Grace, aye? Tha' woman spared me life n' now taeday I see ye in a fray, with her. Why is she should be on the boats to Skye(d)

Saul: Saul had been under the impression that there were no survivors from that slaughter. He hated surprises, to which he answered the man by holding up a sword. He recognized skye's symbol on his tunic and lowered it. ``Yeah.. I am. -- We fell off the boat to Skye. I managed to save her and swim back here... or to the beach in that direction. We've only been here two days. We came here to warm up and escape the storm.. only to be jumped. I'm sorry for your soldiers, but I had thought Grace and I the only two surviving. Look.. we really don't want to cause any trouble. And.. I will enlist to help you replace some of the men here. Just.. please, get her on a ship back to Skye. Please.`` Saul had lowered the sword, and looked down when he spoke of what happened. He wasn't proud that he had to use his skills to keep both of them alive.(d)

Kendrew: He listened to the story all while being sure that his own weapon was close at hand. Lies came on many a sweet or humble face, and the lad's was one of fthe more petinant he'd seen in recent times. He looked familiar but then what native son did not? He was one of many faces Kendrew would recall when a lack of sleep haunted him. "Should go back to Skye with Grace," he murmured, sheathing his balde when no threat was percieved. The men were dead; tiltinging over as if in perpetual sleep, rag dolls were lads of substance ought to be. "Ye can help me bury the dead. Nay native son is going to rot for the crows. I could not bury the others.." What others? Had Grace told him the story of her part in the exploits? "They will call Grace a witch. Sentence is death by burnin'." (d)

Saul ``I know, which is why it is important to get her out of here.`` He said, looking to the line of dead soldiers. ``My name is Erik, and I'm but a traveler looking for a purpose. These soldiers did evil this day, so I am angered enough to give it back ten fold. Will you take me in your army, sir knight? Or am I to become a vigilante with no direction?`` He looked to Kindrew and watched for an expression of any sort. Saul thought it better that the bodies should be sent back to their families so they could bury them on their home ground.(d)


Kendrew That was a lovely, honorable idea but there was not time for that. Men were to be buried, the ground blessed by humble homage for the fallen. "If ye wish to follow lad, you may. We make for the South, aye, Eric. We may make for death." He was morose. There was a shovel in the goods taken, one that he passed out while not expecting the boy to take up the task of buring his own comerades. A nice task, a good task it would have been to give a mother peace but there was no time. (d)

Saul He'd nod and take the shovel. ``I will these men. Please, take Grace and make sure she makes it to a ship. By the time you return, I'll have these men buried.(d)

- TBC -

[Lady Liliana Campbell]

If I should die before I wake
It's 'cause you took my breath away
Losing you is like living in a world with no air

--

No smile curved lips, no joy shined in chocolate eyes, as Liliana wandered the halls of Griffin Castle. About her duties, mind drifting to other matters, she moved as if a...spirit. Other servants attempted to make her smile, to make her laugh, but this Liliana was not the one from before Aberdeen. In a way it was as though she'd reverted back to the child who had wandered the halls of Lord Durand's manor in Cherbourg. That child had been frightened, alone, her world ripped out from under her feet...

And that was how Liliana felt now.

Memories from Aberdeen had haunted her sleep, frightening nightmares ripping her awake, and would not leave her alone. She dreamt of the wedding- vows of love passing between Kendrew and her- and then it would turn ugly, dark...the sky full of stormy clouds and hanging from a tree her beloved Kendrew. Dead. Body cold, heart silent in his chest, and eyes staring lifelessly at her.

Lack of sleep made dark circles appear under her eyes and copper cheeks were pale. Briefly her mind wandered to their escape from the Bruce's Castle. Little of that trip was recalled, though there was the memory of being held and soothed by Aoife, aside from from being placed on a boat and returning home to Skye. Home, without Bess and without Kendrew. Alone....

It seemed that nothing was to be peaceful again. Though Bess was home now, something Liliana was grateful for, no word of Kendrew had come and...poor Bess's own brother had taken a bolt to his chest!

"Will we ever be happy again?" Question drifted from her lips, a breathy whisper, that encompassed everyone. The 'we' stood for all of Skye. For all its people. Those who had gone to Aberdeen and even those who had not. Much had happened and sorrow seemed to have taken hold. Deep within her heart, Liliana feared that happiness would never be able to find them again...

A hand upon her arm brought pause to listless steps, mind having even forgot its original purpose- to go make bread in the kitchen- as it began to remember, as chocolate eyes misted with tears turned to look upon the young chambermaid,"What is it, Cait?"

"Mistress, it be said that a ship 'as come. The court be back." Words were spoken, the look in the young woman's eyes meant to give hope, before she gave a soothing squeeze to Liliana's hand and headed off to other duties.

Liliana stood frozen, unable to speak, as she thought of those returning. Hope blossomed in her heart, burned through her, and she waited. Those who returned would come here soon....

Oh, please, God, let him be with them...let him be alive..., trembling hands clasped together, fingers playing over the ring upon one, as she hoped for her husband to have lived.

[Lady Shaden Aramoire]

What happened in the darkness of the next few days were things only two souls would ever know for sure..
Robert The Bruce.. King of Scottland.. And his Courtesan Captive. Specualation.. Rumors.. Nothing imagined would began to describe the horror and pain afflicted on his captive..

Things that no lady should even hear of.. No woman should live through.. Indeed.. A more merciful heart would have slit her throat when he was done..but not the Bruce.. He wanted to see his destruction.. Live… it was in the living that his torture would remain.. In her soul.. .. And in those eyes.. Of frozen hatred.,For the rest of her life. Those eyes that glared up at him with all the rebellion that was sewn into the very fabric of Scotland . She would bear the standard of his awful power… his awful wrath.. A stain.. That would never be washed away.. It would have to be…cleansed by fire.

In Her.. He saw.. His greatest enemies.. Slipped from his grasp… she would submit to the retribution he could not lay on the golden head of Beathag.. The Harper… for she had escaped him. She would bear the wrath of his impotence to Quell the very fear that Adam Aberdeen cast into his soul.. With his never ending dream of a Free Scottland.. He would subjugate her , break her… as he knew he would never drive freedom from the eyes of Adam.. He would drive it from her face.. Perhaps that would sate the fire in his soul.. The maddness in his mind. For it was truly a decline into Maddness that had settled within Robert the Bruce… in the last few years… guilt would do that to a soul..
What burned so brightly.. What brought men to their knees with her beauty..her grace.. Her smile.. This flame.. That drew man, woman, child to her with such warmth and tendeness… this flame.. Copper haired beauty.. This would be extinguished..crushed.. Until nothing was left… burnt offerings to lay at the Feet of Skye… a grim reminder of what happened to those who opposed the King.

The complete tale.. As I said.. Would only be known between the two souls that shared those hateful days.. But a glimpse of hell will be forthcoming.. For as in all stories there was a watcher…a invisible servant who chronicled.. The fall of the flame.

[Lady Shaden Aramoire]

Blinding pain and shadows.. Hateful words meant to scar a tender soul… these were the sensations that filtered through the pounding pulse and rush of blood, into the brain of the courtesan as she was dragged along.. Random questions invaded her mind. Things that distracted her from the plight of being hauled bodily thru the corridors of the Bruce’s Castle.. To certain torture.. Would anyone find her shoe.. Why had she turned back.. Had Kendrew, Ealora and the rest made it safely back to the ships.. Were they safe and free..? The King had cursed Beathag’s name and that as her son as he railed about their escape.. They were free then.. Away from the madness of this King..

Jack… (Trades) she could not think of him now.. Even though his face floated to the top of her memory like a soothing calm… to linger on him… for even a moment would be her undoing, She didn’t want even a though of him linked to this… Stumbling behind the rapid strides of Robert.. Dragged by her hair.., wadded and twisted up into a cruel fist.. The heavy oaken door.. Thrown open.. And suddenly gravity failed to exist… into the air.. Like a leaf tossed in a foul wind.. She seemed to hover… until gravity resumed again.. And her form bounced then slid.. Across a cold stone floor…

From her resting place she looked like some kind of hellish creature.. Flame curls in disarray half coving a blood spattered face… clothing in rags.. sprawled like some broken doll.. But beneath the dirt and blood those eyes.. Glittered.. Dangerously… casting pure unadulterated hatred laced fear up at him.. For a moment he thought she would grovel…but…she rose.. Slowly her chin tilting upward.. A dirty yet delicate hand rising to push back that coppery mane..with an elegance that betrayed the very thought that she was his captive.. And not a lady.. standing before him…eye to eye she met his gaze.. Unwavering.. Solid.. She was so much like them, those of Skye who’s spines were stiff with righteousness.. Right and wrong were things that would be decided by those who penned History.. It mattered little to the players who were in the moment.. What mattered was winning.. And that was What Robert did.. No matter the cost.. She would not defeat him..with those eyes.

“ The is a tub of water.. Wash the stench from yourself.. “ he pointed to a tub of used water.. Cold never tossed out from the morning bath “ You smell of filth “ his beard was stroked thoughtfully as he locked the door behind him.. Then paced the length of the room.. Pouring a hardy glass of whiskey he watched her..defiance in her every action.. Oh how he would break her.. Take his time with her.. She epitomized his every failure.. To subjugate Skye.. “ Now” his voice cracked like lightening in the stillness of the room. It was a faint admiration of her spirit that lingered in his eyes as those same said eyes watched porcelain flesh delivered from it’s meager shield of tattered clothing.. Curves and hallows full and lush.. A thatch of red at the apex of her thighs shielding her sex.. All the while she stared him down .. Not speaking.. But the air of defiance clung to her like a mantle.. “ Wash your hair as well “ he settled in a chair.. Letting his anger build to a raging inferno.. Every movement she made fueling him to more dastardly innovations.. For her pain.

Stepping into the tub was like stepping into ice water.. Gooseflesh rose over her arms and breast before she sank into the grayish water.. Dunking her head.. Quickly and efficiently she washed..the blood and grime of the days deliverance of Kendrew and his men from her.. Scrubbing with lavender scented soap.. Fine linen rags.. She fought the urge to laugh at the absurdity.. And concentrated on the task at hand.. She watched him from the corner of her eyes.. Pacing.. Then sitting pacing again as she performed the perfunctory task.. His hands waving in impatience as he filled his glass once more..the luxury of though that perhaps he might drink himself into a stupor was lost.. She stood stepping from the… tub a damp towel on the floor served to dry her marginally.. At least wring the water from her hair before it was… wrapped about her.. “ Drop it.. And braid that mess into a single plait” his hand waved imperiously at her hair, his eyes narrowed daring her to.. Resist.. Argue anything to give him reason to loose his rage on her.. But she merely dropped the towel to the floor.. finger combing there the dark copper ringlets.. Until she could separate them into three.. Then wove them together quickly.. Knotting it upon itself at the end.. Her eyes lifted to find him standing right before her now.. A long wicked dagger in his hand.. Was lifted to toy at the nipple of her breast.. The tip pricking the sensitive bud.. Before sliding up to her cheek.. And tapping it.. “ Quite the beauty.. What is your name ?” rough hands the seized her then turning her around by her shoulders.. Her body pressed harshly against his as the knife toyed over her throat once again , his hand looping the long braid over the back and griping it firmly as she spoke her name..in a strangles gasp of pain.. The knife slide thru the long locks.. Just at the base of her neck.. Shearing the thick copper mane into his hand.. In once swift action..
“ Did you know.. That before you burn a witch at the stake.. You shear her hair.. Because the stench of burning hair.. Causes pity.. Among the peasants.. It lights up.. Like.. A candle.. Quite gruesome “ his breath was medicinal and stagnant.. Tinges with liquor.. Against her cheek..

[Lady Shaden Aramoire]

Picking up the sword, he stuck it in his belt… Then one foot upon the other man’s stomach, Adam pulled the spear free with a sudden powerful yank… Out the door the Lord of the Isles… he was DEADSET to find the proof he needed… Thru the small servants corridor he made his way... once used by Scot kings to escape... Adam used it too... Thru cobwebs, spiders, and other nocturnal creatures of the dark damp corridor, Adam worked his way toward what he hoped was an exit to freedom... it was then that he heard the harp... Was it Bess? Had the King forced her to play... for it was ok, just not as good as she...With a cant of his head... he made his way toward the music... Screams of domination, the arrogant demands in a man's voice made him stop... then the singing... not of a singer but one of want... of pain in her heart... he HAD to find out... freedom would have to wait... With the ever closing of his station to the singing, he heard words of anger and gasps of supplication... thru the small vent he saw Robert standing over a nude woman... the belt wrapped around her throat, his stance ready to kill her... When Adam saw Robert... the flames of his mind flared thru his veins as hot lava ready to erupt... he kicked the door open, his sword in hand... "Halt..." he advanced... tossing the sword aside... his fist slamming to the King's head, rocking his world.

Blackness was creeping in from the sides of her vision.. her lungs burned with lack of air.. the leather belt cutting into tender flesh.. marking the long elegant column of her neck..with ugly red welts.. nails clawed at flesh and leather alike in flailing failed attempt for one last breath.. glacial green hues bulging from their sockets knowing his bastard face would be the last she saw.. and then.. she was free.. falling to the cold stone floor.. fingers sliding between the leather and her throat raw rasping gasps as lungs took in mighty heaves of air..

Adam was relentless with Robert... he was no king... Adam was no duke... it was two men fighting in a brawl of supremacy... But the fight for supremacy turned personal when he saw Shaden nude on the floor, the belt about her throat... Though Robert outweighed Adam by almost 100 pounds, Adam threw him against the wall like a rag doll... fist met face in rapid succession as Adam wanted to kill the man... then in years of experience, Robert pushed Adam off him with his feet... then dove on Adam...With lightning reflexes, Adam wriggled free from Robert's grasps and rolled on top of the King... "Ah'll kill yae faer harming fellow Scots..." PUNCH... "Faer arresting mae court... " PUNCH... "for allowing mae wife tae bae humiliated..." PUNCH.... "faer harming this lass..." He slams the King's back to the floor, knocking the resistance from him... then he stands pulling the King to his feet... then slamming him against a wall..

She could do nothing.. but stare.. dragging in deep breaths as the hated belt was unwrapped from her throat.. she tried to call his name.. but nothing came out except a strangled croak.. they brawled and fought across the room, sending furniture flying , Adam in full blown rage and the King still half drunk with power and whiskey. Scuttling back against the wall she shuddered.. almost unbelieving.. that she was still alive.. a drape was pulled around her.. letting the evening sun burn into the darkened room her eyes stinging.. against the sudden intrusion of brightness, she winced and recoiled.. like a cowering animal.

As Robert slunk down wall, Adam went to look at Shaden... seeing the belt, took it and walked back to Robert...It was then that Adam began to beat Robert... just as he had beaten the lass... the sting of leather hitting him everywhere but his face... then with a knee to the man's chest, he wrapped the belt around the man's throat... rolling him to his stomach, Adam placed a knee to the man's back and began to pull back with all his might.

She watched in horror.. as Adam begin to beat Robert with the belt.. he was beating the King.. strangling him.. murdering him she gained her feet.. yanking down the curtain.. and dragging it with her.. her hand gentle on his shoulder.. " Stop.. " she croaked.. broken.. and hoarse.. she wanted to say Robert wasn't worth it.. she wanted to Say Adam could not condemn himself.. but nothing more came out.. just and insistent tug of his shirt...

It was her broken voice, her marred skin... her nudity... that both sparked flames... and consolement... he released he belt, and let Robert breathe... "Yaer nae worth losing it all o'r... yae dun got like de Ainglish... abusive... and care nae faer yer own people..." he turns to Shaden and kneels down, his back to the wall, his eyes watching Robert and seeing to the lass... "Are yae alright Lass? yae know Ah'd kill 'im faer yae..." his hand caresses the hair that is left... "Ah owe yae much... Skye and Scotland daes tae..." Moving to grab some material from the bed, he wraps it around her nude body... would it have been different circumstances, he would enjoyed that view.

Wide eyes blinked at him as he looked her over.. her whole body shivered.. abused flesh showed to his eyes, marred with scratches, cuts welts bites.. all manner of offense that a man could show a woman.. blackend bruises that pulsed in pain.. her head shaking back and forth at his question of all right, hands lifting to her throat as if holding it.. would allow her words.. "I want to go" she spoke..in guttural tones.. the strangling.. having almost crushed her vocal cords that were now swollen and refusing even the most basic of speech.. without resistant struggle.. Flinching as he wrapped the bed sheet around her.. her knees threatened to give way.. afraid of his touch.. so used to the abuse that she falter even under the tender words of the Duke.. " Go" she demanded again.. her eyes turning toward the door.. before stopping.. she pointed toward the table.. the harp.. broach and satchel were there... her eyes telling him .. take it..

He saw the falter... he saw her sway... he rose to take the harp, stopping only to whisper to Robert... "Yae were mae King... mae king yae 'r nae more... Ah swear by mae grandfather... All Scots shall bae free... join with us... 'r die with the Ainglish...” then Adam rose... taking the harp and the satchel... then he bent over and picked up Shaden... Turning to the way he came, he bent over and exited the room into the dark dank corridor... weaving and working his way to the exit... he had to find Bess...

[Lady Rosalind Avalle]

Rosalind had been very young when Scotland's complexities had been thrust upon her. She had grown up in this climate, honing her natural skills of diplomacy to negotiate first for her husband's life, and then her own, under the ancient laws of Highland hospitality. She understood the law of the Highlands. She knew the clans, having stood on both sides of the line Balliol drew years before she arrived in Scotland. Her late husband had taught her a good deal of things, Highland law being foremost among them. He told her ancient law governed the clans, but had no loyalty to individuals.

As surely as the season's first ice broken by a hunting party's hooves, the law had released her into the dark night. The vast unknown of her future hung before her, beyond Lady Mary's protective walls. The Lord of Touchfraser and Cowie would retreat to his estate, and take her guardian with her. It was no longer politically safe for Fraser to remain under the same roof as the Bruce. Fraser was a man who had seen much of war, and had lost his heart for it over the past fourteen years. "The Campbells hunt Lamonts like rats in a barn," he'd said. "Still, I fought at the Bruce's side, and it is difficult to pity cowards and opportunists." Lady Mary, no longer a Campbell, had done much to plead Rosalind's case, but could not offer Fraser's protection. She had done all that she might as a friend, and probably more than she should have as Robert the Bruce's sister.

When Colban Campbell offered Rosalind a way to leave Aberdeen, she did not delay in packing her few belongings. Most of her possessions had been left in Inveryne and were now in Campbell hands. Those that she had fled to the south with four years ago had been sold in bits and pieces to pay for meals and lodging. Colban said a ship was waiting in the harbor. With so many Campbell men in pursuit of the Skye escapees, an overland route would be foolhardy. The distraction was enough to take eyes off the castle for one night, and she would use this to her advantage and escape by sea. When she walked the corridors at night, she liked to imagine she could see the ship's lanterns bobbing in the distant harbor. Campbell sent her a note at dinner assuring her the ship was in place. She folded it into her palm and held it so tightly, the corners dug into her skin.

When her one bag had been secured to her horse's side, long after the inhabitants of the castle had found sleep, Lady Mary embraced Rosalind. "Go ye well," she said softly. The moonlight fell upon the courtyard and made Mary's aged features youthful again. The yard was empty, save the presence of Colban Campbell, Rosalind, Mary, and the horses. Plants glinted out of cracks in the stonework and the two horses stood steady, waiting. Rosalind could see their breath clouding in the wan light. Mary stepped back into the shadows, merely another set of eyes in the castle that allowed mischief to run rampant under the Bruce's roof.

"I canna tak' ye far. I'm sorry, Rosalind," Colban said. He was easy to read, her friend. Even in the darkness, she could see how troubled his expression was. He was still a Campbell. She could trust him, but she also needed him alive. If he defied his clan, his life would no longer be worth living. He lifted her into the saddle. She was still a brave and daring horsewoman, but even Rosalind recognized the limits of her crippled leg. After he easily swung himself into his saddle, they quietly rode out. The night was still as death and their horses' hooves seemed too loud. After a while, he stopped. "Rosalind," he began, pulling his horse close to hers, their legs nearly touching. Gaelic was a language given to intimacy, Norman French to gravity. For a moment, he was at a loss. Of their common languages, none seemed apt. He struggled, faltered, and began again in her Picardy dialect. "I cannot be seen taking you to the harbor, but neither will I allow you to journey ahead alone. I arranged for a small guard. They are well paid to ask no questions, and they will not be at ease until you are on your ship."

"Merci," was all she said, her eyes filling with moisture. It was not a time for tears, she knew, but her gratitude threatened to make her soft. Even her usually stiff leg felt like jelly. She smiled at her own silliness. She heard the telltale signs of others nearby. At a signal from Colban, four horsemen climbed out of the shadows and onto the road. They were indiscriminate in the dark, just as she would be, beneath the hood of her cloak. The chilly autumn wind pulled at the loose folds of her garments, as if pulling her toward the waiting ships.

"Bonne chance, Beauquesne." He did not wish to see her ride away, but he waited. He waited as the four men he hired swept her into their midst. She immediately became one of them, masked in her dark cloak, her hood pulled over her thick, dark hair. And then she was gone.

Rosalind did not look over her shoulder. She was a strong woman, but only because she knew her heart. And her heart could not bear a last sight of anyone, much less such a dear friend. She kept her eyes focused on her destination. Within minutes, they were passing through narrowing streets, eerily quiet in the wake of rebellion. Buildings seemed to hunch over the road. The moon and stars seemed icy and distant, shedding wan light on roads rutted from wagons, littered with the refuse and detritus of a small city. They kept to the walls and the shadows where they could, but as they neared the docks, it was nearly impossible to stay out of sight. The horses' hooves smacked against stone and cobble, treacherously loud. She felt her heart racing in her chest.

Even the men riding at her side seemed tense. She could see their breath as tiny clouds made silver in the moonlight. She did not wish to know of which clan they were allied. She did not wish to break the spell. For four years she had been both guest and prisoner of the Campbells. Under rules of hospitality, they could not lay a hand upon her unless she left Campbell territory. This was the unwitting consequence of Lady Mary's marriage to Fraser. She was once again mortal enemy, traitor to the Bruce, the valuable Lady Inveryne of Clan Lamont. Had she remained as dead as rumor four years ago had suggested, Lamont would truly be defeated, and no more than yet another tragic tale among Scotland's long tradition of ghost stories. It was strange, but she felt confident resuming her role. This was life, beyond the four walls of Lady Mary's protection.

The harbor was in sight. The deep swath of the River Dee cut its way south along the town, puncturing the coastline of Aberdeenshire and providing a natural respite from the northern storms that barreled down Scotland's eastern coast. And there, somewhere in the dark, was a ship waiting to carry her to safety. Her heart slowed. Despite the cold, she felt a great warmth rising within her, granting her the courage she had been lacking.

As they started downhill toward the water, she heard a curious zipping sound. It was such a bizarre thing to hear in a city that she could not place what it was until she heard the dull thud of one of her riders falling onto the street. He did not move. "Allez, ma dame!" one of the riders shouted. A dark whir before her, the same curious zipping noise, and the shouting in French ceased. The Frenchman slumped forward in his seat, head to his chest like a rag doll, before gravity pulled him downward toward his comrade on the ground.

"Qui est là?" came the next shout in Norman French as one of the two remaining guards pulled Rosalind's reigns and forced both mounts into a dangerous gallop toward the harbor waters. She heard the dual ring of swords being pulled from scabbards, and saw the glint of steel to her right. The two remaining guards of the four would not turn back now, when their destination was so near. "La lutte comme les hommes, vous les chiens de cochon!"

The French insult was met with laughter from the rooftops. The answering shout made Rosalind's ears burn, but the Frenchman at her side merely snorted in derision, a common Gallic noise that she hadn't heard in years, and made her unreasonably homesick. For an instant, the skirmish seemed more comedy than tragedy. But a moment later, she heard him fall to the ground, and the clatter of his sword as it hit the cobbles rang through her head. The Frenchman who had thrown his insults rode forth to her side to take his place, yet even as he did, seven Scotsman appeared out of the darkness, barring the path to the ships. A final arrow sang out from the rooftops and pierced the Frenchman to her left. She heard him wheeze with pain. "Ce n'est pas fatal, ma dame," he said, sucking air in through his teeth. He glared at the Scots before him, and tipped his sword forward, as if ready to take on all seven. She realized in that instant how young he was. He could be no more than eighteen -- a man, by all accounts, but still ten years her junior.

It was Rosalind's turn to grab his reins. "Non," she said, failing to meet his eyes. His courage put her to shame. She looked at the men before her. Their faces were hidden in darkness. "I am the Lady Inveryne," she said clearly into the night. "There is no need for further bloodshed. I will be treated well?"

"Like a queen," one of the voices responded, causing the others to laugh. "Ma dame."

"No more hiding amang Campbells fer ye," another said caustically. "An' this French cur will no' be causin' us trouble if'n he's deid." He casually gave a command in Gaelic. Suddenly, the horsemen were in motion. One swept Rosalind from her saddle and pulled her across to his, wrapping a large arm across her torso, and momentarily, the hand usually reserved for holding the reins firmly wedged against her mouth. Another of the horsemen raised his sword and brought it down hard on the Frenchman's unprotected head, cleaving his skull in twain. Rosalind's horrified scream came out as but a muffled grunt. "Pile 'em outside th' city walls, th' twa o' ye. They willna be missed, an' ye can keep what ye find o' value. Tak' their horses. The woman's mine. We ride."

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

In the fields outside of Turas Lan...


Beathag: Another day, another night. Another moonrise, another set of stars opening when the heaven pulled back a black curtain to reveal infinite midnight space. Another night in which her heart was laden heavy to the bottom of her shoes. Few places save the Infirmary halls knew her paces wearing down on the stone work of the floors, turning the dust hour after hour. Griffin Castle? One might have thought she lived in the Infirmary now, or in some strange corrolation of Eamonn's room and the Lord's chambers of the castle. Between each, she cared for the men there in, soothed them, and waited their recoveries until it was too much to bare. Sir Gregorian watched her now at a respectful distance. None were in Fieldren fields, yet it was not unguarded from the walls. Where blossoms had been now the grass was thick with gold, the sweet scent of harvest time, but it brought no joy. It only seemed to sting her eyes, to finally coax the tears from them. She couldn't, wouldn't shed them before the company of others. (d)

Liliana Stars shined, glittering like diamonds, cold in the black sky of night. Chocolate eyes stared up at them, sorrow in their depths, as Liliana wandered silently. It was not safe to be out alone and so a Guard followed at a respectful distance. In the back of her mind was recalled a time when Kendrew had chastised her for being out alone, a time when it had been realized what they had both felt for each other. A white cloak was wore, to keep body warm in the chill night air, as a sad smile curved lips. She dearly missed her Kendrew. (d)

Balian: The Pale cloaked one was no more then a few yards away. Thick white cloak drawn over his form and the hood lay against his brow shadowing his unshaven cheeks by a day from the dim light. His hands were folded together inside the long sleeves. Though shadowed icy gaze or not his attention fell to the terrain passing the Duchess. Silence in the six and a half foot knight could have been mistaken for many things. It had been a journey full of trials and triumphs, failures and battle and he knew the weight of the world lay on his sovereigns shoulders, his silence meant nothing more then his discipline to the oath of serving the cause of Skye. Whatever that service asked of him. [d]

Beathag "My Lady...When will you think to go back? It grows cold, and you will not do well in such." She turned her head over her shoulder, as if to imply ' How do you know what I do an do not need?' The chill in the air stung her skin to ruddy pink, it told her she lived. Not much else did. He felt admonished by the poignant clarity in her eyes harboring a small rebellion, which was the only she could offer. The weight of the world pressed on her shoulder so hard that she came to sit in the tall grasses with her back to one of the few trees. Once there, the crevice of her brow deepened (d)

Liliana[/b[: To be alone again felt...unnatural. Liliana had began to feel as if part of a family. All the old memories, all the old sorrow, had been erased by those of Skye. Now, to feel that way again...made her wish they had never went to Aberdeen. Approaching the fields, chocolate eyes on the ground now, a sigh whispered from her lips. (d)


Balian: His head tilt just a little to give a glance back over his shoulder, hearing the question asked an answered his own brow lift slightly before he averted his attention back to the terrain. His mind wandered off a ways while his thumb ran along his wedding band. When Bess settled down in the tall grass Balian took those few steps closer to stand to her left flank a few paces off. He wouldn't interrupt or make words with matters and opinions of his own, knowing the Duchess had a mindful already. [d]

Beathag She closed her eyes to listen to the wind; the life song it sang would be better than the feel of it stiffening her bone. There had to be a vein of comfort left in the world. To the left of her, the man of dueling lions watched while tiny steps of a woman with her own weight shifted the grace. Little or nothing was said, all of them mindful of the other, as if to speak were to encroach. The first words to be offered were a tired seeming, "With Sir Gregorian 'ere, Balian, ye could rest with ye wife from the trevails we've all seen Aberdeenshire." Fingertips were poised against their opposites for brow to rest on them. (d)

Maubrey The carriage worked its way thru the rough road, the Griffin guards rode beside it.. Inside was a man, dressed in a blue-black uniform of the Maubrey... When the carriage stopped, the man with the grey beard and thinning like hair stepped from the carriage, the sword usdually worn, remained inside... The captain of the escort, having dismounted, walked to the carriage... "This way M'Lord..." the man said... the two men approached the golden-haired woman... The bass voice spoke softly... Lady Aberdeen... I am William Maubrey..." his voice carried past the guards who stood between them.::::::

Liliana: To be near yet apart. Was that not what this displayed? Though Balian stood near where Bess sat, and Liliana approached to take a spot near both, all were lost in their own thoughts. Not a word was whispered upon the wind. Not until Bess spoke. Sitting slowly, legs folded under her, she noticed the approach of another. (d)

Balian "Aye your Grace. ..I am resting." He grinned a little with the jest. Resting? Not since the first sword stroke fell to claim Scottish blood. She was right though, they all were fatigued but Balian only shook his head. "I will find peace of mind to rest when your Grace does the same." They were all in it together. He doubted any other man that bared the oath and crest wouldn't do the same. Then the fates would make his point all the more. His eyes drift to the approaching carriage and his fingers loosened between one another though remained in the thick confines of his cloak sleeves. Ready to pull steel should the need present itself. When the Lord and his detail made way for them the veteran knight of the white Talon hadnt moved so much as a muscle beyond the rise and fall of calm breaths. Maubrey, now there was a name worth his point. "I rest my case." Spoken quietly. [d]

Beathag: "My vigils in the night last long, Lord Windsor. Ye may be up awhile. N' ye, Liliana, ye should nay take up your mistress' bad habits," They were in this together, losing loved ones, lost loved ones, or worried on what the future would bring. But who knew in the fields tonight the envoy of destruction would come, cool and collected. She rose to do her duty, to play her part. Inwardly she screamed while the outside displaye da dip of head. His guard and her guard between them. "Mah Lord. Ye name preceeds ye." She stepped forward slightly, "Ah've heard ye've made port n' shall stay awhile. Wot brings ye hence taenight?" (d)

Balian: "I am wed to a beautiful young woman your Grace, up a while is something I am custom to, eh?" He chuckled softly while the last few paces were made by the Lord and his Guards to close the distance between them. When Bess stood Balian took a step forward, bowing his head formally toward Lord Maubrey and bringing a closed fist over his heart toward the guards before his hands reclaimed one another. His blues drift for a moment to take each man and woman's location, Bess, Liliana, Maubrey and the detail. [d]

Maubrey: "M'Lady, tis grace and undue privelege that I am able to stand before you a humble servant of the King of England... waiting patiently for an audience with the Lord of the Isles..." he pauses and looks down... "Your Grace, I beg this indulgence to portray my sincerest condolences regarding the Lord Eamonn... tis said he has met with ill fate and is serious health... I pray for his speedy recovery..." The words came from his lips so easily... was it years of lying, subversive dealings... or was he in fact Lucifer in the flesh? Even the wicked smirk of the truth was hidden behind a face of symp[athy:::

Liliana "It seems I am unable to sleep, Your Grace." Soft words, whispered with hint of sorrow. Liliana found herself unable to close her eyes when she yearned for the feel of Kendrew's arms about her. To see his smile. To hear his voice. She would rather be out in the cold, in the company of others, than laying in bed alone and crying. Rising when Bess did upon the appearance and introduction of Lord Maubrey, the man's name not unknown to even her, Liliana stood quietly near her lady. (d)

Beathag: "It eludes me tae, sleep." Soft words were meant with softer yet to wrap them in a shroud of substance most tender. She listened to Maubrey speak, to his part of the play lapsing on in concern over an event that in her heart, she felt he caused. Aloud it was said not, but she would dip in a modesty curtsy of sort with lowered head, "From yer mouth tae the ears o' yer God, M'lord. His Lordship o' the Isles himself is nay well, sae fer the time bein' my lord, I pray m'presence is a suitable substitute fer mah husband's by nature o' company n' business. We are both well versed in matters." (d)

Balian: Balian's face say nothing of Maubrey's words. Though every new word the man spoke made him want to quicken him even more. The ill falling of his good friend and honored Lord Marshall would call it a justified fall of his sword across the back of the mans neck. He weighed the match in his mind, studied the men at his sides and mapped out the way each man would be slain by his sword. But there would be no such action to his thoughts. Nothing more then a disciplined silence and an ever ready hand. [d]

Maubrey William smiled a bit at her words... with a graceful bow... "Your Grace, tis nay the time to speak of such matters... You and Lord Aberdeen have been such greatr hosts in my time here... My sincerest apologies for coming early... but Lord Aberdeen's request came too late..." He looked around at the people gathered and he felt a tension ofd them, but simply smiled as if he knew none of what occurred... though in reality, his major influence in the Scot south and the increasing pressure to the north is what brought about the actions in Aberdeen... If his words went to his God, then his God would be joyous, as William used the Church as a tool to gain what he desired... but of what Lucifer would do in the physical... William smiled... "Tis a beautiful country... tis many years since I was here long long ago..." then as he looked at her green eyes with his own sea-green's... it would be as if she were looking at Adam's own eyes... "I hope to see much more of it..." then he smiled... "M'Lady? Have we ever met before?" :::::


Beathag: "Of course, sir. Ah appreciate ye care o' the subjects at hand. The times are vera tiring sae tis best to rest sae we might continue to be such hosts as ye have seen." The Devil, Christ, and the hosts between had no ally in Beathag. They would go forth into the church and pull out the murderer who took sanctuary there, using no faith as an abuse of it. To look at him was to look at a past that had been so fogged become instantly clear. On a simple tone, one might even call it lovely. "In Scotland ye shall nay find a greener, more lucious country than Skye isle. It holds the times it keeps n' ye can almost seen the occurin' where ye last left." Adam's eyes, Adam's height, came from this man. Adam's drive, one might even say, came from him. There was no goodness though that he inherited. She crossed the bridge he lay by coming to his side. "It was a many years agae, n' Ah was still a vera small child. His Lordship had a fondness for 'arp music." (d)

Balian: Balian's blues settled on one of Maubrey's guards. If fire could pool in iced pupils they would have just then. Each man taunting one another through expressionless ways. A soldiers way. He licked the front of his teeth, his brow lift just a little under the hood shadowing his features. WHAT? Ill cut your throat right here! Thoughts exhanged between the men. When William made mention of the lands beauty he bit his tongue to keep his silence even more. Aye well, English blood makes a fine fertilizer. Being English by birth himself didn't seem to be something he would claim to often. But none such things were spoken. [d]

Liliana: Chocolate eyes moved between Bess and Maubrey as they spoke. Looking to the men with Maubrey, brows furrowing, Liliana felt tension in the air. All was not well yet all seemed well. Is that not how it went? Lifting hood to cover her face from the chill wind, and from any eyes that might glance her way, she stayed silent. (d)

Aequitas Fortis: William smiles and snaps his fingers... "By Jove, tis I remember now... Aye, the harpers golden haired daughter... Tis been many many years ago... How is Murieall M'Lady?" as if he did not know... "Aye, I remember so vividly now... you use to play with my son as a child..." he bows his head and does the sign of the holy trinity... "God rest his soul..." Meanwhile, he grits his teeth knowing that one, or more of THAT family lived... did she know just how MUCH of her past was wrought by his deeds? His mind began to work overtime... had he failed so badly... or was it the people he hired to perform the jobs... a silent, unyielding curse fed his stomach:::::::

Beathag: "Aye, the same sir. M'mother has long since gone tae meet those who fashioned her limbs n' sojourn beside her kin in the world beyond. Adam was mah play fellow, yes. Mah favorite cousin." Did it ring now, o observer? Did it settle to the brain that familial ties existed long, lengthy, and some many decades before hands were sealed? If it did not, more knowledge would be thus, "And Davena was mah' mother's favored friend many a year. Is it destiny we meet again, as this? Nay only see I a Lord but in some way me own kin." Davena and Murieall, the mother's of Beathag and Adam, were distant cousins by a shared relative of Adam's grandmother', Lara of Aberdeen. Adam and Beathag shared the blood that permeated Beathag's veins, he harpers. Maubrey was her relation by marriage, now twice over. "Fortuitous is this night." The smile that curled was one to set the night on fire with brilliance, while inward his grimace was her delight 'remember me,' she thought 'remember. fer I dae now. I remember everything.' The same immunity that kept him alive now did the same for her. He would have to stare at her, if not everyday now.(d

Maubrey: "Aye Your Grace... we may be kin of sorts... but I am a low lord... an emissary of the King... and You... you are Lady of the Isles... married to the Lord... You shal always be welcomed on Maubrey soil..." with a pause... "Wherever it may be..." Lies... he wanted to wash his mouth with river water... he could not stand the Harpers... they filled the men with false hopes of pride, solitude... whatever feeling they desired when the harps played... the murderous fervor built in his gut... if he could, he would choke the life right out of her... just as he did those many years before::::::

Beathag: If she could? Then they would both be rolling about in the soil like wild boards rooting for dominance, wouldn't they? But a few meager inches shorter than he, yes? Her stance was strong despite the gentility of what was seen. "Mah Lord, ye are kind. Perhaps me n' mah husband shall journey thus tae England. He has a yearnin' tae see home." She wed an Englishman? Had they gone made to take so odd a lineage, so strange a woman to wife? A game of tit-for-tat, a game of this-and-that. "Is there somewot ye'd wish tae discuss taenight, mah kin, whilst ye are here?" (d)

MaubreyAn English husband? a Name like Aberdeen? he wanted to squint an eye, cant a head... but years of deception allowed his master his guise... With a shake of the head... "Nay M'Lady... I just wished to pay my respects to you and yours... I have requested audience with Lord Aberdeen, but it seems he is indisposed... and then I tried to visit Lord Eamonn, but they denied me entrance... Sooo, I offer you my sympathies on all that has occurred and if I may assist, nay hesitate to ask..." he said with a smile::::

Beathag: "Tis appreciated Sir. Perhaps taemorrow ye might ride with meh about the city, in these times one must continue tae be about. Mah husband is quite indisposed, as ye say, but m'schedule can surely hold room for thee." She even leaned up, and placed a hand that cupped over his own, clasping it. A Harper's touch." How good it is, tae see ye once more, M'lord Maubrey, how very good it is." Would he need burn that limb now, scrub until he prickled? It slipped over to his shoulder. A touch that had entranced him once before. There was a time in it's smallest measurement where he'd loved Davena or remembered the spell she cast for him. Maybe it detracted from his objective, orhurt him to remember even beasts like him had souls. Ah well, his absolution was not her concern.The eyes that looked out at him in shades of green intense, one could have sworn that Adam's grandmother glared from beyond the grave at him, or was it his imagination? (d)

Maubrey This meeting had not gone as planned... but one thing made evidence of itself... her name added to the assassins list... oh yes... the last of the harpers? Her touch... she dare touch him...! The past and its ghosts rushed forth... but this demon in the flesh, after years of steel, fought them back... Had he been 20...10...even five years younger, he might have been able to feel... but now, after so many years of being heartless, all he did was smile... and solidified her name on the assassin's list...::::

Beathag: Would he dare? It would only add to his troubles, trying to assasinate her. For to do so would make an uproar to sway away his opinion, for the people had almost lost their beloved Duchess once already..or did he not pay attention to his current events. Leaning over, she pressed her lips against the stubble of his elder cheek, pulling back those eyes moved with a spark of ethereal countenance. He hated harpers for the knowledge they carried, what they inspired, and what they could do. So thus he'd hate her all the days she walked this world. "The hour grows late n' Ah must retire now, but taemorrow..cousin? " The word, oh the word! He would need to bathe! Balian closed in close, Gregorian and Liliana's guard after. "Come m'dear, let us tae bed. Taemorrow we must be fresh for his lordship's company." (d)

LilianaEvery word, every touch, had been observant by the silent lady-in-waiting. Her admiration for Bess grew with each minute that passed. When it was time to leave, she stepped forward, slightly to the lift and behind, of her Duchess(d)

Maubrey: "M'Lady... do not harmn yer lips on an old man... save it for your family..." he smiled... "I propose a day of celebration for you and your husband... a day of feasting and jousting... I would so love to bring my knights here to joust..." Oh my God... she used the word... How could he rid the world of those? She was on the list... at what priority he dared not suggest, but the smirk... "Aye Your Grace, My sincere apologies for keeping you so late... May thee fare well and live long..." He wanted to puke... his stomach churned as if making butter... All these years, he thought her dead... now like a ghost, she arises...:::::

Beathag: "Please, please. Alone we must spare the formality. Only cousin! You are my elder and one might dare say we are on equal footin' thus" Except that she was little lower than a Queen? And he coveted a kingship he had to conive for while she seemed to sail for it? Oh yes, he was also on a list, his associates were on it too. The Duchess came back from her place of origin with more resolve than he'd give her credit for. She'd learned to play the game, and if all else came to a head in Skye they were more....direct....than elsewhere? He would dwell on it but he knew that he couldn't touch her, and just to find a way would detour him, or did he want those other constituates to always side with him? A living example is far better than a dead one! Come, come old man. Age can't steal your faculties can it? With a smile she'd vanish toward the city walls along the fields with a company to guard her. All the while thought The declaration o' war is said without a word o' it spoken,cousin. An tis the sae on yer end, Ah know. Death come on the edge o' a smile? Let us see. Ye will pay for wot was done tae m'brother. MacRauri tolerated tae much n' Lara was silenced...but ye will nay silence the Harper. One day we shall meet with nay nicity, n' on tha' day ye'll bleed. On tha' day...mah brother, mah husbad, n' all those tha' ye hurt shall rise up n' crush ye.." Did they both look to one another again, that silent declaration echoing? The House of Maubrey and the House of Aberdeen, at war. (d)


Maubrey As the Duchess and her entourage departs... William walks back to the carriage... plans began to cultivate in that heretic brain of his... "Hmmm... cousins eh?" he mumbled as he rubbed the hair upon his chin... a new approach began to formulate...::::::

[Lady Rosalind Avalle]

It was one hundred and fifty miles to the heart of what used to be Lamont lands. She had made the journey to Aberdeen before and knew it to be one of three to four days of moderate riding, nearly a week with carts and guardsmen. That first night, she had little idea how far they traveled, but knew they would reach their destination before evening fell on the second day. The men made no haste in setting a pace westward, with two men departing to take care of the Frenchmen, and two more to sell the horses before rejoining the party at the next way point. These men required coin. It made them little different from Lamonts in that respect, and for more time than she cared to admit, she wondered if she rode with clansmen or mercenaries.

Rosalind kept quiet as the men around her fell into a more natural pace. It was useless to ask them what would happen to her. They likely did not know. Fearghus Lamont was a man in hiding. Cornered in his den and viciously protective of what remained to him, he had not been seen nor heard of since Inveryne fell four years earlier. He had mounted unsuccessful revolts against his new Campbell rulers, but even Fearghus knew he was but a shadow of the men who had ruled Lamont prior to Bannockburn, most notable among them the late Lord Inveryne, Domhnall Lamont. He was dangerous in his desperation. If such a man had plans, he would not share them with the brutes he had sent to collect the errant Lady Inveryne.

The hours passed one after the other. Her mind quieted. She listened and watched, and did as she was told. They did not stop for sleep. She knew this stubbornness to be a great trait of the Lamonts. Her husband had possessed it in full force. He frightened her at times, finding sleep often interfered with his productivity. Though he was of sound mind all the days she had known him, his days of mania could have tried the patience of saints. Of course they would not stop, these Lamonts. They had not stopped in all the years since Bannockburn, as one village after another burnt to the ground and the clan scattered to the winds. Surely, they would not stop now for stiff joints and aching muscles.

She thought about the events that led to her escape four years ago, with Clan Campbell bearing down on Inveryne, the last protected stronghold of the Lamonts and her home of a decade. In reality, there had been happy days of respite from Campbell's campaign of persecution. But in memory, her last months at Inveryne seemed a relentless struggle against overwhelming odds. What actions she had taken then -- they did not matter now. She had taken refuge with the Campbells and entered a house no Lamont should have entered. What happened now was in God and Fearghus Lamont's hands.

Some part of her consciousness, likely that most affected by living with the Highlanders, was grimly satisfied that she would not have long to wait. The sun was setting on the second day when the men stopped in a small grove. They remained mounted on their horses, but her captor unceremoniously dumped Rosalind on the grass. The drop knocked the breath out of her lungs, but she rose unharmed. As air once again resumed its normal course through her lungs, and outrage at this treatment subsided, she began to take notice of her surroundings.

She saw them emerge from the trees. Warriors of Clan Lamont, those who had suffered at Inveryne and those who had fled, those who had seen Bannockburn, and those who had been babes during Scotland's defining battle for independence. Old men, boys, all equipped with various implements of war -- pitchforks, dented armor, rusted swords, clubs. And in the middle was a man who clearly stood apart from the rabble. Black hair dirtied with rough living, black eyes that burned beneath a low brow, and a powerfully built frame recognizably of the Clan Lamont, he could be none other than Fearghus Lamont -- her late husband's uncle, and erstwhile chieftain.

The men came closer at Fearghus's lead. Some looked curious to see the Lady Inveryne, who had so dominated Highland gossip for the last four years. Others looked clearly vengeful. Fearghus held neutral territory, viewing her much as one would an unbroken mare of good lineage at the horse market. A history of action and inaction yawned before them, Fearghus on one side of the gulf, and Rosalind on the other. Fearghus stared down the woman who was both boon and burden to his clan, a woman many believed a heroine, and far more believed a traitor. Whatever the right was, time had made all argument irrelevant. Inveryne was safely in Campbell hands and Fearghus was the last of a dying clan. Such a position made him desperate enough to make saints of perceived sinners.

This woman's presence was the first thing to go in his favor since Bannockburn, and yet, a long history of defeats and failure tempered his enthusiasm. Even the delusional Lamont could be cautious.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Alendral Once, Alendral commented glibly to the Lady St. Laurence that some sort of payback she devised for having to teach him her tricks-having found himself suddenly with a ridiclious workload as he desperately tried to catch up a kingdom that, frankly, had no means for subterfuge. He had promptly learned that he should always keep his mouth shut. One minute there were distressing reports--critical mis-steps on the duchess traveled, and all of the sudden his work doubled. Than it tripled. Somewhere along the way Alendral had actually found himself barely finding time to sleep, immersed in movements, reports, and discussions for damage control almost moment to moment. Everything had, in his measure of the subject, gone completely to hell. And amongst all this, more frustrating than everything, was nobody was listening. It was fairly natural after all. A few may be willing to trust him, but a former spy and traitor did not endeavor trust, and free from the eyes of Duchess and Lord, the lower echelons promplty took to largely ignored his requests and advice. So when he'd heard that the Duchess was finally somewhere accessible, he took it upon himself to break protocol, bringing him to the Bannockburn Tavern, as it was so called--all dressed in finery, silk shirt and vest, the fine clothes of nobility that would look decidedly out of place, though all cheeriness and sense of glamour was definitely removed by a vaguely exhausted and strained expression, comforted by only all the grim things he was going to say to his beloved new Duchess now that he had a chance.

Rosalind: The past several days had taken their toll on Rosalind's sense of humor. Perhaps, she would grow to be a dour old Scot indeed, and that day seemed to approach ever faster with every moment spent stepping carefully through the web of clan politics. Though she had found respite in the company of a few new souls, Rosalind simply could not help the hours of abstraction spent pondering her precarious position. She needed entertainment. She needed conversation that was not dominated by Campbell, Fraser, or Lamont men. She needed ... a drink. When she asked her lady's maid where one could go to satisfy any of those requirements, one of lighthearted nature with a decent clientele, the girl replied without any sense of irony, "The Bannockburn, m'lady." Rosalind had to suppress the urge to smack her forehead with the palm of her hand, and merely sat back to let her lady finish plaiting the unruly chestnut length of her hair. Splashing rosewater on her face, she decided to take the local girl's word on the subject as an expert opinion, and made her way to the tavern. It was a short walk to the place, for which she was grateful. The night air was crisp and she had, in her various escapades, managed to leave her autumn cloak in Aberdeen. With only a light woolen shawl to keep her warm, by the time she entered the tavern, her cheeks were flushed and her hands cold. She immediately went to the bar and placed an order for mulled cider, and looked though she would be glad for the warmth. In her memory, Beauquesne would never equal Scotland for a cool autumn night. *

Alendral: The refined little spy, to his credit, didn't open the dialogue by throttling her or screaming his bloody head off. Which given the fact that he had essentially been press-ganged into doing work for a kingdom that seemed determined to get itself torn to pieces in spectacular fashion, was a testament to moderation. Instead he'd make his way up, making a point to order a whiskey and to keep them coming and see that it'd arrive hastily, clearing his throat and bowing at the eventual response. "Lady Duchess...?" the grim finality in his voice enough to suggest he was not here for a social call, all the life and energy long since drained over the course of a few days. Closing the distance between them and taking a seat not far from her, he fixed her an expression that managed to convey the words at the tip of his lips. 'You'e done so many things wrong I don't even know where to start'. One had to at least admire his forwardness--than again, being trapped between being executed by the Isle of SKye and by Mauberys' men after they ahinnilated the kingdom would do that.

Rosalind: She temporarily took respite at the counter, knowing it was rather unladylike to do so, if she knew anything of taverns to begin with. Such a place had remained fully in her late husband's domain -- a place he retired to when finished with the antics of Dunstaffnage, or on the road between Campbell and Lamont lands. When her cider arrived, she held it between her hands and gathered the warmth, imagining it seeping through her skin into her bones, while moodily pondering what to do next. Her thoughts were interrupted by the girl, who cheerily informed her, after hearing Rosalind was a new arrival, that the lady was upstairs. Rosalind nodded her thanks and placed her shawl on a peg near the hearth to warm, and then made her way up the stairs. She had little idea she might be interrupting anything of import, much less she was following anyone, having missed the man's trek up the stairs prior to her own. *

Beathag Molly McSween leaned over the table as if she were a mother instead of more than 13 years the Duchess' junior. Comments went by as women are want to do: the circles beneath her eyes, a loss of weight, a hallow tone all equated certain death without the aid of black bread and mulligan stew. It was the first smile she issued with ease. He saw this, the illusionist, spy, named Master Sorchal as he rose up the stairs. His demanor was enough to lessen it only slightly as she canted her head. Rosalind was unknown to her, the guard at a distance watched all nearing the Duchess with great care. Between bread and stew was a course of cider. At least the girl and she had equal tastes.Moods gone dour were the only thing she shared with Sorschal at present. "Master Spy." (d)

Alendral Always aware of the effect of the moment on people, he took a moment and let the silence hang between the two of them, passing a modest look at the server, opening his mouth. "Ahhhhh..." his mouth closed again and he folded one hand over his other. "My Lady. We... need... to speak." He wasn't heartless, unfortunately the situation was. She was just going to have shoulder that much more of a burden. To say nothing of the dark assessment Alendral had made after bearing witness to the Duchess plea--in terms of political matters he was by far the most experienced, and the Duchess--indeed, the whole damned island was out of its depth. So be it. He would have to explain the ruels and make sure they were playing them, even if they didn't want to. He looked about momentairly. "Also, a drink. Mind if I get a drink? " of course, it was cut short by thew new arrival, and he deferred back into silence until he received sign that it was safe to talk again, fixing the new girl with a vaguely quizzical expression. Hadn't seen her before and she was clearly important enough to be part of the Duchess inner circle, or at least close enough to visit her in a tavern.

Rosalind She stopped short hearing the man's words to the Duchess. Her head canted for just a moment, wondering by what authority he had to speak to a woman, much less a woman of gentle birth, as he had. Yet Rosalind was a woman used to Highland tempers, and had made a bit of a noblewoman's career of studying her peers. And then there was the matter of personal curiosity. If she interrupted now, there would be nothing to observe, nothing to add to her own collection of details and understandings. She caught the Duchess's eye, though, having a care for politeness herself, and curtseyed low. The movement was graceful, and though her walk slightly betrayed her crippled leg, the curtsey did not. A humble inclination of her head to the gentleman, and Rosalind approached the Duchess, seen only twice before, and both times ending in bloodshed. "My lady, I had heard you were here tonight, and thought it was time for an introduction. I see that you are rather ... occupied at the moment. I would not intrude, but I carry word from," she took an inward breath, "I carry word from the Lady Mary on my position in Skye." *

Jack Flynn What would become the reaction of the group, when another party arrived to join them? The Irishman already carried a good tankard of ale in his hand was strode in, tossing the Duchess a broad smile. There was a cant of his head. "Sae this tis where ye 'ave been 'idin' yerself...." There was a chuckle, before he realized the others and simply offered a smile and nod to the room in general. Then he took a seat. (d)

Beathag"Many come tae speak n' keep company, Master Sorschal, only now ye find meh n' a place tae actually hear n' speak. Take ye drink, 'ave feelin ye may need it afore we are through. Ye remember the Admiral..n'..ye both this young lass comes from the West Coast o' Scotland thereabouts her journey begins..comes bringin' word from Lady Mary.the King's sister." She felt generous, passing coin along to the tender for Sorschal's drinks. Plural. If she were going to make the man lose his hair, he ought have what he wanted to burn his throat a little. The cider was mulled, the sting minor but sweet, soothing to her. Cradlding the cup in both hands she merely leaned herself back in the chair toregard what he would say. Naturally. She wasn't getting up to leave, if he was going to say it he might as well say it to everyone. Not as if the great fiasco wasn't public knowledge (d)

Alendral: "Figured given our circumstances, might as well discuss someone to drown our collective miseries." he replied with certain grim sense, glancing up at the admiral with a nod before regarding the new girl carefully. He hadn't heard anything about a diplomatic visit, which normally such circumstance would warrant. So how did that happen? "Listen. Duchess... if you'll allow me to speak openly..." he hesitated briefly before throwing both ands up helplessly. "Did you... maybe think I was merely speaking to hear my own voice before you left..? Because... based on my reports, this essentially couldn't go any better for Maubery. Please, please bloody tell me that it isn't as bad as I've heard?"

Rosalind: Rosalind substituted nervousness for a cool, placid expression that likely would not win her any hearts, but the last weeks had been difficult on everyone. She could not suffer another disappointment. Realizing the metaphoric distance she was putting between herself and the others, she forced herself to relax. Fortunately, Master Sorschal had the world to say. In that time, the few sips of mulled cider she took seemed to help. She liked the gentleman's idea of drink, though. Likely had a world of difference in medicinal value than the cider in her hand. *

Jack Flynn The Irishman smiled broadly at Alendral, before looking over to Bess, "Should I tell 'em tha' what 'e 'as heard tis most like surgar coated?" There was a cant of his head, as he looked back to Alendral. "Ye missed a grand adventure, sire......oh, o' tha' there cannae be any doubt." The was a playful thumb jerk toward Bess, "She already 'as a song 'bout 'er, er sae I've 'eard....." He grinned, "Prison breaks, shellin' o' Aberdeen, an sea battles.... all tha makin's o' a new myth cycle, iffen ye asked me...." (d)

Beathag: "Tha' will nay beh necessary, Admiral. Ye've gotten the shell o' it sae Ah'll take the innards. From mah place twas nay sae rousin', tha' look' back at it twas quite a tae dae...though it fell a wee short when we came 'ome." The literal embrace of the episode's catastrophy into heroics could make the blood curl, but it was evident Beathag understood his frustration. She simply was what she was. Acceptance, determination. These were deep seated in the tired gaze as she breathed in to gather enough breath to reply, "Oh, we listened tae ye advice right well, Master Sorschal, n' was recived with flowers, n' parades, favors n' hosts in the town square. Feast days n' all matter o' things. Ah but ye see, all manner o' things began tae topple towards the South needle on the compass n' regards tae a few things nay amount o' matters could change. Little Lord Aodhan will always beh dark fleshed. Did they tell ye wot they called mah son n' Adam's heir? Devil child. Black demon. Told meh tae give him o'er tae the chapel n' make more proper heirs. They thought him the General's son for as ye know, the General is also dark fleshed. Mah advisor is dark o' skin. Now, I dun expect a country tae hold tae our way o' thinkin, but...he is a child. Did they also tell ye they set out tae harm m'people, one o' the courts other informants..n' I spared her, tha' they beat the General, Kendrew, n' many until they broke? Ah trust it was us daein' the beaten the way ye heard it n' we did. Och, we gave them wot fer. N' still we tried beyond tha'. Ah listened tae the king as he said tae be soft tae show such tae m'husband, tae soften his way n' make peace between them. Ah was still for stillness sake..e'en after I raged. Did they tell ye we've proof the King givin' away his life's work for a song..n' tha' the people came up tae his walls? Aye we were blamed for the death o' the poor folk, but twas nay show. The King's men shot them down!" Hands went up to the air and she laughed, but it was a black laugh. "He humiliated mah people, he killed innocents. He raped n' torchured a woman sae badly she leaps at the sound o' the wind. He placed us under arrest ah, aye yes we had tae escape to come home. Mah husband had a noose near 'bout his neck n' ye know wot they wanted tae dae tae m'son, tae me n' the women? Burn the m alive....for surely witches are wot set free the men at Windmill Hill. But did ye know for all mah ships tha' went hence.....they came back far tae light, Master Sorschal. Ah will nay tell ye wot they did tae the men at Windmill HIll, for tis nay fittin' for such a lady as is here..nor for the ears o'these folk..but it makes meh sick. Ah will tell ye..." Her voice fell as the bombast died. Her eye nearly twitched as her voice slowed, "In the North I made them rebell with a song on a wire string, n' saved m'husband with mah naked self n' golden hair. They did try tae burn me. Ne'er tell this beyond this table. Ne'er. Burn marks at m'ankles..the mark o' the king's hand tae m'face n' m'people dead, afraid...or they have nay returned. Master Kendrew is gone tae the South o' Scotland...Gods help him. I know we gave ye hell, Sorschal." The tone was apologetic"N' only fer tha' I am sorry but nay for wot was done. Ah am sorry for wot else wot must come for tha' man is nay king o' mine...n' we will wrestle the South Back n' spare the North, King or No King. Nay one shall take Skye, either." (d)

Alendral: "Oh yes. a new myth cycle. Isle of Skye. In past tense. " Wonderful, and they were treating it like it was all some merry little farce. He was about to admonish the two of them but was suitably cowed when the Lady Beathag took it upon herself to relate the details, sympathetic if not still frustrated, picking the genuine horror from the shrwed political manuevering. It made him seem unmoved by the tales of carnage and fatality, a testament to his abiltiy to wear masks, and instead greatfully accepted the drink from the server eventually, taking a stiff drink and letting the silence hang. "...There are.. ramifications to this, Duchess. Considerable ones. This places your kingdom inparticular delicate position, despite it. What's done is done, I accept that. But if you intend to continue the trend of protecting your people, Duchess, we are going to act. Very swiftly. From here on, we are the ones on the defense. We must rally any and all allies avaiable and we must work against Maubeyr in earnest. "

Rosalind "That is what I came to speak to you of," Rosalind said, trying not to look as if she had been paying too close attention to their words. Yet the Duchess's story was one she had heard in various forms in the castle. Much of it, she had witnessed herself. The woman's telling of the path from Aberdeen to where they now sat merely tied the story together for Rosalind, and made her lady's words all the more relevant. "Though," she paused a moment, "I am here mostly out of refuge, as I cannot return anyway, it is no matter that I speak bluntly of her concerns. Her brother troubles her, and the Frasers of Touchcowie, my lady. In the interest of clan unity, she would be of service to Skye's goals." *

Beathag "Well, we shall see wot we have left, Sorschal. He has been here workin' vera hard since we were away. Ah'm aware his support n' talk o' King MacRauri has gathered a many people tae his coat tails. Mah cousin is witty. Mah cousin, mmm mah father by law but he knows tha' nay." She turned to regard Rosalind as the talk turned to Clans, allies, and the Lady Mary going against the back of her own brother, "The Lady Mary is a brave woman, but then I'd suspect tha' o' a woman who sat in a public cage for twelve years. Ah want ye tae know, Rosalind, Ah've written her a personal message. Ah accept. Sae. The Aberdeens, Skye, n' defected families are at war with the King o' Scotland n' England. We needn't a piece o' writ fer tha'. Tis obviousness enough. Gatherin' resources we shall, Sorschal, n' dae sae 'e'en this night n' the Lady Rosalind. Now lass, ye can serve m'self, ye can find another home te serve or ye can set yeself up as a lady o' some good measure n' follow about tha' way but ye may 'ave here wot ye did nay n' Scotland n' tha' is a choice." The cider cup was refilled by Mollypassing, the stew and bread set down, though it went without saying politics ruined her already spoiled appetite. "Ye will be a busy man, Sorschal. Mah brother was shot a pair o' days ago with a crossbolt. Needless tae say tis been learned he traded words with Maubrey. Since tha' time, he has spoken with me..Maubrey has n' we've exchanged pleasentries. He still does nay know about the duke, but he knows well who I beh, memory." Among many things to recall, he probalby didn't forget her head of hair. Such a Scandavian feature, bright in shade. "There is talk o' us sojournin' much sae there will be much tae gather. Sae, I will ask ye both now..if this is wot ye wish. Lady Rosalind, Sorschal." To be asked. A choice? "ye asked meh once iffn this was worth daein. N' it is, tae me. Ah went across the sea n' asked mah people to be wot they weren't but they tried for the sake o' everythin. They did nay fail. Nay matter wot it looks, tis Adam n' Ah wot failed them by askin' them tae be wot they were nay, n' ridiculed. We knew it was a trap n' went headlong tae it..e'en if we could nay have predicted twould end as it did. We believe in the land sae much we quarrel o'er it. Mah home..is shambles. Ah'll ne'er gae back tae Aberdeen. Ah dun nay want tae." She pushed herself up to stand to go look at the sea from one of the higher windows, evidence of why she elected this place. "Ah told the King, Ah am wot Ah am. Sae m'people are wot they are. Wot ye must ask yeselves are such people, a cause, and a place worth believin' in" (d)

Alendral "You insult me madam." He indicated a refill and drained the glass almost as soon as he go it, taking a breath. "I'm aware of the assassination attempt, rest assured I had moved what resources we had as soon as I received the news, and it appears fortune favors you enough ton give me what I need. He won't leave the kingdom. I'll see to it personally." Which gave him the first hint as to what kind of man Alendral was to the new face, for all the british touch to his accent and refinery, there was a dangerous, predatory edge in the words he spoke. The long plea for it all to be worth it, and he hesitated. "... Your people here are free and happy, Lady Duchess. More than you can say for most kingdoms. What litle time I've spent here has taught me that. Rest assured, it will end if Maubery achieves his goals. He glanced the woman meaningfully while letting the glass dangle between his fingers. He didn't answer the heart of her questions though. Given his profession, he couldn't bring himself to trust the answer.

Rosalind Rosalind smiled and inclined her head. "My lady, I would be honored if you would take me into your household. I believe my talents and skills would be well utilized in your court. It is truly what I wish, for I am indebted to anyone who relieves me of my ... previous entanglements." It would be conceited to believe her story had traveled so far west as Skye, but she was not the only one among them fighting for recognition. The Duchess's words echoed thoughts she had been troubled over for the last four years, but she listened attentively anyway. "I must believe in a king whom yet has faith in his people, and if I have learned nothing these years, it is that the people of this land are worth believing in. From what I have seen of your people at home and abroad, your grace, I am assured I have made the right choice. The only choice." For Rosalind, it was a simple matter. Though she had much knowledge of the clans and their inner workings, and had lived at the heart of Scotland's drama for most of her adult life, she could simplify this one matter. The devil, as they said, was in the details, and those often had a way of resolving themselves. *

Beathag "Sae it is then." This served as answers to things they'd both had said as her head turned over one shoulder. For the rage of her temper, the hollow nature of sad eyes it wasn't hard to remember that she was still a woman. Beauty. It haunted moments like this.The flash of light on her hair or the shade of skin, even among a plethora of scars."We will find a use for ye, Lady Rosalind. Ye may come n' live in the castle at once n' we will see wot it is ye can dae. Twill make ye a viable target. Bein'who ye are, wot ye are, n' whom ye served. If ye have nay care for it nor dae . Mayhaps if time is with us we shall 'ave the Lady Mary tae supper. Must be tired o' seein' clan war shyte outside her windows. N' ye, Master Sorschal. Ye serve with a measure o' noble ambigousness, tha' tis understandable. Nay many a man would serve a household where the woman ...raged 'pon him but fer tha', ye 'ave mah respect. Ye both dae. Tis some measure o' madness tae serve a mad household." (d)

Alendral "Thank you, Duchess." he bowed and took the compliment in stride. It was nice to hear, even if he stil struggled to some kind of convinction in all this, something to cling to, and decided to address the new woman. "On the subject of targets though, I woudn't worry much." he grinned modestly at the younger woman, a shade of the old Rogue creeping out from under all the stress. "A killer might have been able to slip under the network in the confusion, but hey were caught soon enough. If there is a silver lining to this, it's that the people of the lands are eager enough to do what they can. Any spy who seeks to penetrate the kingdom will find the Isle's changed considerably." he allowed himself a small measure of pride before returningto business.

Rosalind: "I trust we all are," she responded, with only a touch of wryness apparent in her Norman accent. She sensed the woman was more than tired by clan politics. She was exhausted. Perhaps they would end it soon, and even lighthearted taverns with ironic names might enjoy easier banter. Scots had a penchant for brooding; she never could understand how they so easily transformed times of strife to moments of celebration, nor the specific appeal in the national gallows humor. There must be a way for Rosalind to bring lighter fare to the Duchess's court, even if she had to act the jester herself. She gave a sidelong glance to Master Sorschal. It seemed he had a very interesting part to play in this endeavor, and that, of course, made Rosalind entirely too curious for her own good. She smiled. "Those who would tangle with me are not nearly so subtle as to require anything of the sort. Brutes, the lot -- one must take a care to inform them which end of the sword to hold. But I thank you for your assurances. Truly." She inclined her head, the smile widening a bit more with real amusement. *

Beathag The Scotts could prove a morose sort of people if one couldn't appreciate the sardonic nature of what they found amusing. So often on the end of a sword for execution or subjucation, it became something noteworthy. Thus, the noteworthy became a black joke to forge a piece of national identity. Beathag's humor was genuine. She laughed long, full bellied and loud. None of the petite excuses for mirth behind upturned hands, but of late there was little to split her sides in so much as it tried to split the hair from her neck. (d)

[Lady Rosalind Avalle]

"So ye are the wench what held off th' Campbell siege at Inveryne," he said slowly. He walked a slow circle around her. He switched to clear, perfectly accented Norman French as he came face to face with her. She had lived among Scotland's elite long enough that she failed to be surprised as he demonstrated his formal education. The Bruce himself spoke several languages and wrote Latin fluently. Her husband had known at least four, but being a man of monosyllabic responses, Rosalind had never been quite sure aside from what she observed of his correspondence. "I could not deliver my message of gratitude to you, my lady, and for that, I am deeply apologetic. Nor could I properly do right by my nephew by providing for his widow. You would have had a place in my home and no need for Campbell hospitality."

"I may be a woman, Fearghus, but I am no fool. Let us not mince words. The Campbells are not all that stands between you and Inveryne. Had I aught to offer you, I may have considered your offer much earlier." She set her chin, hazel eyes solidly fixed on the Lamont.

Fearghus laughed shortly, looking clearly amused at her bravado. He shook his head a bit, clearing the thoughts from his mind as a horse shakes flies from his coat. "My nephew was many things, but fertile, he was not. I consider myself a modern man in not blaming you for his faults. Give me an heir, and we shall be quit of this. You may resume residence with Lady Mary and I shall give you a healthy stipend. A better proposal you are not likely to find."

Rosalind's expression remained unchanged, as if carved of marble. Though her position at Lady Mary's side had insured her constant exposure to sensitive information, private matters that could break treaties and rend clans asunder, Rosalind had not known the Lamont was privy to that information. She inhaled deeply. Time had made most things irrelevant, she amended, but his knowledge of this very private matter was no substitute for what she knew him capable of. There was more to the events surrounding Inveryne than her own rumored infidelity and Rosalind suspected Fearghus Lamont stood hip-deep in the blood of his own clansmen. Why should an ounce of sympathy from him now make him any more palatable? He was a rogue and an opportunist, and the lesser of two evils was still evil.

"Come back to us, Rosalind," he said softly, returning to his mother tongue. "The dream of Lamont is the dream of Scotland. Dare ye not forget that." One step closer, his boots crushing autumn leaves into dust, and his gloved hand reached for her jaw. He tilted her face toward his. "Would ye believe in peace wi' me, lass?"

Time stretched forever. A wind blew through the grove. The waiting clansmen remained absolutely still, waiting and watching. Overhead, low gray clouds spun inland, carrying with them the scents of the deep ocean. Her entire body ached with the long journey from Aberdeen. And he smelled of bay leaf and pine, leather and wool. He offered respite, but hardly an enduring calm.

"Not your brand of it, no," she said at last, one last knot binding her heart loosening and giving way.

"It was not a request," he hissed in Norman French, releasing her jaw as if she had bitten him. The sudden movement threw her off balance, and she staggered backward, landing unceremoniously on her rump. "I give you the day to pray, woman, but make no mistake. We will be married by this time tomorrow, and Inveryne will be mine by the month's end." When Rosalind did not move, he snorted with derision and stormed off toward his men. A casual observer would think him a decent man, giving her this time to make her peace with God and the ghost of her husband. Rosalind, however, suspected it would be a task finding a priest. Prideful even in defeat, was the Lamont gentleman.

She watched the chieftain and his men disappear into the trees as her hands dug into the sandy soil beneath her, dirt wedging up into her fingernails. One of the horsemen who had traveled with her from Aberdeen once again swept her back up into his saddle, turned, and led the way back along the path. Held tightly against the stranger's body, as if she would be foolhardy or desperate enough to jump, there was no one to see the look of rebellion burning through the careful veneer of Lady Inveryne.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Prologue

Who are we, and what is it that we seek to accomplish? The question, in essence, asks our purpose in life. What is clear one day will be clouded the next. For others, it remains a crystaline path with no deviation on the journey. Would that I could say the people who lead us were born leaders for the age, instead of just products of it. Would that I could say that these people, little lower than kings, were the sort that had poems of their elegance writ. But this is not that sort of isle, they are not that sort of folk, nor is it this sort of tale.

They will have epics writ of them, myth cycles of their exploits. They will want to sequester some tales while admirers will beg to hear more. With an undaunted resolve and a warrior's blade, the House of Aberdeen and all of its constituates are going to carve a chapter into Scotts history the likes of which has never been nor will be again.

-- A historian from Turas Lan --


In The House of Bruce
- The Violence Wrought against the Flame Witch of Windmill Hill -

"Say nothin' tae me!" He struck her white face until it wore the blue-black of his anger, "Ye'll be submissive. Unlike the others o' the party that has come from Skye, ye, I can teach to obey." He took the point of her chin in his hand, squeezing it between the first finger and thumb. "Nothin' until I say to speak. We can not risk your words against me, so say the priest. Women were the reason o' the great fall from Eden." Leaning forward he inhaled her scent. Fresh from bathing..lavendar, lilac, and fear. Pushing her away he wanted nothing to do with her. He did take with him a valuable token, leaving her shorn to the place of a boy.

Robert Bruce beat Shaden Aramoire for being at once apart of and having nothing to do with the politics of the day. His sporran bag, his belts and medallions he thrust up to her face, demanded she read the latin only to beat her with each until she was reduced to water in her eyes. But they wouldn't spill! Bah. He threw her into the wall. "Slide down it, ye gutter trollip. Ah'll take my tokens again later." This was when he began to pull, strand by strand, pieces of the red hair.

The King's mood changed as often as his attitude toward the situations presented him. Before his court he was a man of upstanding moral fiber. He seemed to pity those he assigned to death, if not pleaded with God to be merciful on their souls. All the while he seethed over the fact the Duchess had escaped from his walls. Were she there, would he do to her what he did to one of the Witches of Windmill Hill? This one would have been his mistress were she not condemned as a devil's whore. Her hair, her flesh. So unblemished. Or it was. He overturned a table in his rage, smearing ink all over the warrants he was about to sign. "Send for new parchment!" he yelled, "N' do nay disturb me until I deem it fit." He reached to his tunic, adjusting the kilt beneath. His stiff substance of self would find release between the harlot's thighs. Her face would wear his bruises, her back? His scratches.

The first strand, he tied about his wrist in his throne room. The second, he kept in his sporran bag. But the wind could take it, and he wanted more to hold in his hand as his own token. Ah! He had the braid instead. He held it up to the light to watch the golden flecks catch the scarlet. "A burnin' hair would nay be so fine a token." The scent was of her. The scent was rich.

The scent would always be his.

-- Flashback To Be Continued --

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

"Ah can not begin tae say tae any wot mah family means to me. Ah would sacrifice all mah possessions, mah flesh, mah life for their happiness. N' tae know...tha' a man whom did nay e'en know o' mah exsistence until perhaps a year or sae agae, would do this fer me, tha' mah brother believes in me enough nay as just his leige, but as his kin..is everythin' tae me. Truly, Ah am nothin' without mah kin. Ye see, fer some while twas only the four o' us. Aislin, Eamonn, Adam, n' mahself. Aodhan n' Edme, Sorcha, in the womb. Ah'm guilty o' lovin' them tae much"





Eamonn: For more than a day after the assassin had made a clear attempt on his life, Eamonn was still unconscious from the blow to his chest. Suck a hard hit had knocked him from his horse, and severely wounded him; it was a wonder and a marvel that he was not head. Ultimately, the arrow had pierced his lung, but thankfully no severe damage that would prove fatal had been made. Still, Eamonn was gravely wounded and would be for some time. Aislin had done all she could for him, stitching the horrible wound and wrapping his chest to protect the still fresh wound. With such long and extended hours of sleep, Eamonn felt no pain. That was short lived, however, for as soon as he gained some amount of cohesion, the waves of pure agony washed over him. His armour was piled in the corner of the infimary room that he had been carried to, as were his clothing, and he was given a linen long tunic that came down to the knees to wear for the time being. Aislin had stepped out to gather more supplies, and even a bit of food for her to consume, leaving him in the room alone. Slowly, his eyes opened into thin slits for a moment as hazy eyes glanced about. His throat was dry, parched of watch and he could still taste the reminants of blood that had worked its way up his throat from his lungs. His bandaged chest rose and fell in shallow, slow movements, for even the slightest strain of caused white hot flashes of pain to tear through his body. Even now, it hurt to breath terribly, and laying on his back in the bed, covers pulled up to his waist, his head, hair still tousled, was resting on the pillow, and once again, his eyes closed. Pray the gods show him mercy and let him sleep again deeply, anything to escape the pain that even now, he was trying hard not to paint upon his features.

Beathag: For more than a day and part of another, Beathag's duty was of a purely familial nature. Nothing was more precious, more sacred than the fallen kinsman who lay in a bed at the Infirmary where life seemed to seep from a wound. No matter how deeply bandaged, she looked at him and saw the struggle for breath as he slept. The sound stayed between her ears even when she went up the road to the castle where she insisted Adam rest himself after the exploits of adventure and the toil of sorrow that hung close behind him. For her part, the stalwart say nothing of ailment. The blind could see her weariness, the deaf hear the tone absent of uplift. If it was not so apparent as that, no one asked after. It seemed stupid, if not cruel to do so. She arrived again to take up a post that was as common as the sun taking a place in the morning sky. When both of them had been injured once, they shared a room. Now with one who had been near death, the other was a shadow. Across her shoulder was drapped a pair of plaid blankets, similar to the shawl across her shoulders to hold in the warmth from the Autumn air. A tray was held on one hand, a water pitcher to replenish the bed side bowl in the other. Creaking door ushered her inside. Steps were easy against the stone, a lighter heel for a lighter sort of boot worn, the rustle of skirts diminished for it was only a good weave of brown wool that she wore. Not awake over long, the hair hadn't been bothered with pins, left coursing as it would. (d)

Eamonn: The thoughts that often passed through your mind when you were wounded to near death were strangely vivid, and while the world seemed to rush about you, within the mind, everything slowed. Those he loved, their faces he saw clear as day. Images of his wife, his children, his sister, his nephew even, they all had a moment in time to pass through his waning thoughts as he laid in shock upon the unforgiving stoned streets. Now, his dreams were little, and there had been nothing but darkness to surround him, numb him to the mundance world in which he lived. Each sound and sight was so new to him, the room brighter than he thought, burning his eyes, the sounds echoing in his ears like distant drums. When the creaking of the door sounded, once again his eyes opened slowly, and blinked a few times, adjusting to the contrasting lights of the room byu candles and whatever light came from beyond the windows. A soft sigh managed to escape flared nostrils as he blinked, and then turned his eyes toward the door to see his sister, Bess, looking tired as ever and carrying a tray. Poor Bess. She had much to worry on already, she need not be here with in, for he was recovering--slowly--and there were other matters, such as Maubrey, that were more important, or so he thought and considered. Lips parted, but then closed again, pressing dry lips together for a moment. At length once more, Eamonn blinked, and parted his lips. ``..Bess..you should..be resting...`` Said he, his baritone voice strained, cracked, and husky. It hurt to even talk with a dry throat. Damn it. Eamonn winced, but quickly wiped it from his face

Beathag: When you die, the world outside makes so much sense for the visions the Gods grant you when the end seems so close at hand. All of the people you've ever known, every word, is crystalized. The sun shines bright, the stars become diamonds that reveal moments. It is strange how details are honed in on, what we remember most, and who. When her time came close, she saw the father that life never showed to her. Her mother, the aunts, uncles, grandparents that sojourned with her as a child. The lineage of names she'd recorded but bodies who would never be near her for the centuries of their life had passed. In that moment..she was truly a keeper of history to have it displayed! After setting down the tray, she lit the candles that had faded down to low wax pieces in holders. Extinguishing their light, she gave tall ones the chance to do what was their purpose to do. Shine. Shifting bedclothes turned her head so quick. How many times had she seen him and wondered if he was in pain, if he was closer to death, or what he thought inside? The candle in hand came with her to the table. Slender finger pressed against his lips to still speech so she could pour him a cup of cool water to ease his throat back to life. "Shh. Do nay strain yeself." She had to smile though, if but a little. He always told her to rest when he was on his back or close to it! Shaking her head gently, she set about to filling the wooden vessel, once so, one hand eased behind his head. It came to his lips, gentle..with such an ease it was obvious such action was engrained in her. "Ah'm alright." (d)

Eamonn Hazel eyes peered over to his sister, watching her movements through a hooded gaze, weariness evident on his own features, strained with an errie stoism that had been practised and mastered for years. He was in pure pain each time he drew a light breath of air. Duty before thyself. Maubrey, the object of his wary eye at the moment, was loose now, and Eamonn did not like the man sneaking about doing who knew what, more secretive things to hide behind while he systematically attempted to win control of Skye. Now, with him in bed, there was no one to watch him, keep an eye on the man and prevent him from doing worse. His gaze followed her as she moved closer, and then place a finger upon his dry lips to silence them. Eamonn did not resist or rebuttal, for he saw the water she was pouring, and already his throat tightened at the sight of it, wanting it so badly. When the cup's rim was pressed to his lips, Eamonn parted them as Bess lifted his head up, tilting so he did not choke on the water, and the tall Marshall took a few slow slips, the cool liquid running down his throat and soothing it, washing away the lingering taste of blood in his mouth. Bless her. Even his eyes closed as he nursed at the water, taking careful sips, wincing softly now and then when his chest moved from a breath of air. Finally, he had enough water in his now, enough to sooth an irritated throat, and his eyes opened, looking up to Bess. Eamonn lifted a hand slowly, touching her wrist holding the cup to push her arm down and away, trying to move his chest as little as possible. ``Bes...Maubrey...he-..he must be watched..that man is dangerous...a threat to Skye...`` Eamonn spoke again, this time, his voice less strained for it had been well lubricated by the cool water courtesy of Bess.

Beathag: " He is bein' watched Eamonn. His e'ery moved bein' with guards tae each side o' him, n' in places where he would put his own men." She told him, his hand to her....it was an answer to a prayer he didn't know that had been uttered. Putting the cup to the side she sat alongside of his bed in the neighboring chair. Pulling it very close, she was set to tell him all he wanted to know ,needed to know. Priority. And yet..she smoothed his hair back out of his eyes first. Breathing in, the woman gathered herself to begin, inwardly thanking the Gods for her brother's blessed luck and their ability to remain intact. "Ah.." Another shuffling interrupted her sentence, a boy, sleepily, on his own makeshift bed of pillows, furs, and blankets turned over. His breathing filled the room, his small snore. "Poor lad." She nodded toward the end of his bed at the foot. "He would nay beh moved. Your nephew loves ye, as dae we all." A little more silence, as she adjusted herself without acknowledging the hurts carried with her across the sea. Marks of ignorance, marks of escape. A heart marked with anger and sorrow, for it would never go home again, and her brothers, her sister, her family had been given unto that poisoned soil. "We 'ave nay king, n' ne'er shall, unless your Lord assumes the birthright tha' is his given by his great grandfathers, n' Adam does nay wish to be King o' the West, nor dae I. Sae. We are enemy o' the King o' Scotland, n' nay longer a part of it. We are at war with him, n' there is no herald need tell ye tha'. Maubrey is dangerous, n' he, with is fellows, has poisoned the Northas they have the South. Ah will nay let his poison be without remedy here." (d)

Eamonn Thank the gods for a common thought. Bess did not wander along idly with Maubrey free to roam as he had been. Eamonn was truly glad to hear that Maubrey was being monitored constantly, a position that he had been taking upon himself while the Duchess and her company were in Aberdeen. Now, with his wound, he was stripped of that position, and feared that Maubrey would use it to slip away and disappear before Eamonn could find out what it was that the man was doing and pull hard evidence against him. Slowly, he nodded, acknowledging Bess' words on the subject of Maubrey, and sighed again in silent relief, before regretting it and wincing again. Aodhan. While Eamonn could not see the boy from where he rested, Eamonn could hear his heavy breathing from slumber, and now Bess had confirmed who it was that slept so close by. Aodhan..his nephew. His head turned to gaze upon his sister fully. ``I wish that he did not.. have to see this..so young. I...fear it would be engraved on his mind forever..`` He whispered softly, a voice and tone so uncharacteristically of his normally firm and dry tone. Eamonn listened carefully to Bess' next words, and then, a soft frown took form on his features, dry lips pressing together stiffly for a moment. At war with Scotland? So be it. Let them come, Skye was easier for the natives to defend then the latter. ``...If we are..then let them come. We...will do what we can to preserve Skye and way of life...But Bess..my sister..my Duchess...hear me please...`` Eamonn began, clearing his throat a bit, before his face became blank and serious, masking pain as well as other emotions stirring. ``..Let the people..fight for you. You...are the Duchess...your battleground...is different from a soldiers. Skye...cannot afford to lose you or Adam, Bess. Please...please let others fight for you...you..you know the courts...the viliany of words...let your axe...sing in court..not on the hills of Skye..``

Beathag: "He has seen many things tae young, n' neither prayers nor want of us can change tha' now. But in him is a true heir, a true leader. He will be better than Ahdam. Better than me." His reign she prayed would be one of peace despitehis black flesh. The Black Prince. England knew that in Prince Edward, and some said Aodhan was Scotland's own. Others called him the Prince of Ebony. But one thing was certain. In the smoke and tatters of the hopes they sailed over to Aberdeen with, something else arose. Robert the Bruce in all his angered feared these people who made a new nation,nay, a new identity for it. He knew Scotland. He knew customs, he knew tradition, but he did not know them.How could he see these wild people as his countrymen? Witches, devils, and savages all. Let it be so. What frightened him more was that even as he sat upon his throne, the voice of it was not him. The voice of Scotland, the Guardian of it, was a man who was making good on his promise to tear him down for the sake of his own people at home for what he had done. Now, the roles were changed. Eamonn spoke of this in what she knew was a plea from him. Taking his hand in her own she said, "Mah brother, mah Marshall. Mah place is nay in fields of blood n' bodies, nor beneath banners as they are torn. Mah fight now is o' a different sort..the sorts where a Harper goes.. where mah mother had gone afore meh..n'..Ah know tha'. Ah must fight a different way now. N' if tha' way can bring about all tha' has been done..it is more than mah right tis mah honor, a duty." Taking up a cloth, she moved it along his brow. Silence lingered as she sighed before speaking anew after many, many moments. "We can only be wot we are, n' who we are, n' it matters nay tae others as it must tae us. Ye will be m'spear upon the field n' Ah will be your axe in the halls. Forgive me for seekin' tae make ye wot ye are nay." She wrung the towel out, and put it to the side to dry. The tone in her voice was lowered, and her memory was too long it seemed. Once she could recall nothing..and now..it saw everything. "The sons n' daughters o' Scotland tha' sold themselves are nay countrymen o' mine, n those tha' flee for their lives, those who could not help what was taken from them will have refuge here. " (d)

Eamonn: The children were the future, the promise of what neither parent could be alone, but both. Eamonn knew already that his children would surpass him in many ways. Eamonn was glad of it. He could not read or write, but his wife could, and then his children would be armed in weapons that he could never be able to carry. Eamonn did not know politics well, he did not know how to negoiate without the use of sword or spear. Eamonn had not the patience for the courts that even the hot-headed Bess had. No, his place was in the field of battle where men fought for their own purposes, and blood often stained the grounds. It was a bloody job, but they were but pawns and tools of war, tools that could librate or enslave a population. Eamonn was glad that now Bess was beginning to see where her purpose was, a fact and realization that he tried to pound into her head the moment that they got here. Bess did not belong on the field where he lingered. No, she had another front and duty to serve, and he wished she would. By the hands of the gods, she was getting that, and Eamonn was glad, a part of him was relieved at that. His eyes closed from a moment as he her hand grabbed a cloth and wiped his brow, which had been lined with precipitation from a small fever he had not long ago from the wound. When the towel was removed from his head, Eamonn opened his eyes once more. ``All that matters now...is that we realize..our places and duties...and serve them as best we can. The court...is not my field of battle. It is yours. Be..the Duchess that I know you can be...these people..they look to leaders...not soldiers.We...are but your servants...servants come and go...leaders do not. You...stand for more than you realize, Bess. Remember that. Please...no more of this..running off to foreign lands...stay here...with your people. Let Adam be the diplomat to go from place to place...stay, Bess...stay where I can protect you...``

Beathag: It took a journey of discovery to see what he already knew, and for reasons that had to be her own and not the common thought. Perhaps it would never ring true to another as it did her, and now she knew that too. The better part of her youth, her life had been given to a cause. How much need one person take before they had done enough? The proverbial pound of flesh, the sacrifices had been made. "It's hard tae let go o' wot ye've only known for sae long." She breathed softly as she leaned back in the chair, looking over to him. "Ye are all blessed n' good, ye n' the men like ye. Ah saw the proof for m'self o' m'kin but...we lived sae plain tha' tae think o' those below mah feet...is always gaein' tae be foreign. But ye are right..sae there shall be somethin' tae look too in tha'. Ah have tae stand for somethin'. M'mother...our brother....our father stood for somethin'. N' there's nay one else tae speak for the Aberdeenshire, the Aberdeen in name save me. N' if their place was in hallowed halls n' mah mother was here..tha' must count for much does it nay? N' now, with m'own deeds behind it..there is somethin' to see." She turned and touched his shoulder. "Sometimes, like ye shall gae where I can nay, I must gae where ye can nay. There are places where one voice is needed or two..or his..or mine but Ah shall nay leave for a long, long while. A vera long while, n' should the day e'er come where I do leave again, it shall ne'er beh o'er long. Ah know e'en a day can be as too long." That was when she told him, "Maubrey knows who Ah am, Ah have seen him, spoken with him and made his stomach turn. The look in ihs eye was proof enough fer me tha' mah past had his hand on it. He has done enough n' wot I dun know...I dun want tae know. But in tha', soon he will know Adam is alive. When ye are well, ye..n' Adam, n' the lot like yerself shall have m'blessin, when the time comes, n' take his head. For everythin he has done now..n' has e'er done. He has taken sae much, n' now we will take everythin from him. But first ye rest." Leaning over, she kissed his brow, "N' Ah must dae the same." She stood to her feet..and looked to her son, to him, "We shan't lose this home. ...n'..he will pay..for takin' mah ancestral land ...he will pay sae dearly." She talked more to herself..then to him then. But it was clear. He tried to kill Eamonn, he had killed members of her family and had not suceeding in killing her...but he had done worse by killing the one thing she never sought to lose faith in. Scotland. He took her home from her in every sense of the word. (d)

[Lady Katerina]

When the ship she was on pulled into Skye's port a crew member came and got her from the hiding place she had been in. " Where is Grace the young woman I came on board with?" she asked looking around trying to see the only friend she felt she had beside Shaden. The large burly man shook his head and explained that Grace as well as a man had been thrown over board. Her heart sank and shattered, fear once more lined her young face. The man said they were ships and people out looking for them and that they would be found. It did little to ease her mind but she nodded and made her way into the town, the man stayed with he and helped her get a room at a local inn. The sailor smiled and bid her good day and let her know he was heading to the ship and back to his duties. " Thank you" she said with a soft smile and a graceful curtsy to him before he turned and left.


Once settled there she began to look about her 'new home' helping with the wounded and whatever else she could do to keep her mind and hands busy until she could meet with the Duke and Duchess and finish what her father started.

In her wanderings she hoped she might find Shaden as well and ask about her belongings. Absently she toyed with the signet ring she now wore around her neck by a chain thanks to the Knight who had first found her. The same crewman said he had left it for her when they had been in Aberdeen. Was the Knight well? Did he make it out? SO many questions, so heavy a thought for a young girl.

Seeing the wounded being brought through the town heading for what she hoped was places of healing she followed slowly and would see if she could help. Along her walk she heard several people talking about some man named Maubrey and the name tickled a memory she had heard that name before.... from her father's own lips. From what her father had said she got the feeling that the man was no good and up to no good back in England. Lowering her head she walked on.

He was the man and reason they had left England to come to Scotland back to her mother's kin the MacKinnon's. Her father was a member of several councils in England, and this Maubrey as well. She overheard her parents talking one night... the night her father decided they would leave England to have a new life one that would be free of the grip of a corrupt crown and nefarious men. He said he wanted their daughter to grow up and find love and happiness as they had done. Her mother softly agreed.

[strongjustice]

William’s Plan

The nocturnal meeting he had with the Lady Beathag… was much more revealing than he had imagined. Not only was this blonde haired demon the Lady of the Isles… but the offspring of the Harper… Was the past coming to avenge itself… or surrender? He smirked at the thoughts of years past as he made his way thru the ranks… always knowing that Skye would be his… and those he put asunder in his wake of his rise to power... now all he needed to do was rid the world of these… these, blemishes on the ass of England… for the English King would be easily maneuvered to provide him the forces he would require to quell the peasant revolt… as he called it…

“Adam Aberdeen !!” he uttered to the mirror… “…such a boy to command such a country… Such a charmer to draw those about yu… Just what are you like? What are yer weaknesses…? What does the white hound see in you?” then he chuckled at himself in the mirror…

Since his arrival, he had spoken to crowds, some who sided with him, some who did not… still his charming voice, and faux promises of a better life under England was uttered… some listened…some did not… Then came the rebellion in Aberdeen… but by the time he heard about it… those of Skye were home… and where was Lord Statham? Where were the deeds that were promised…? “Keep yer promise Robert… fail not, or yu shall lose all yer desire of Scotland…” he smirked once again at himself in the mirror… No, vanity was not the reason… but loneliness… Anwen spent much time with Lord Robertson and he missed her…

And for the Robertson clan... messages from Anwen showed the sway of that clan towards England… at least half of them… They wanted to rid Lord Caden and his cronies from clan lands… and to reunite the clan under Lord Iain… AND… William had promised them that… should they side with him…

But… William’s prize assassin had hit his mark… and Lord Eamonn lay in the Infirmary… “Die damn ye…” William uttered in frustration… Alfred had performed well… just that Eamonn was stronger than all had expected…

Since the Duke and Duchess’ unexpected return… and Eamonn’s assassination attempt, William was under guard… as were other dignitaries in Turas Lan… limiting all’s free access to the people… William’s hopes had been dashed by the pair’s return… The events in Aberdeen had been preordained and planned… but the pair’s tenacity was unexpected… and now they had returned… of which William had not planned… but he was resourceful and would make do… but where was Statham? Where was the Duke…? All William’s requests had been denied… Even Alfred had a hard time finding a suitable opportunity to strike his next target… and this had frustrated William more…

Meanwhile, with promises of freedom and tranquility, the Armies of Maubrey had been alerted… formed… and set to the march… accompanied by two brigades of Borderers, William’s army moved from Glasgow where it divided into three divisions… one by sea… two by land… The twenty ships, loaded for bear, sailed from Ayr, thru the North Channel around the smaller Isles toward Rhum and Eigg… Once past Eigg, they would land on the Sleat peninsula… Meanwhile… William had ordered two divisions to head north and west from Glasgow thru the Central Lowlands… where, at the foothills near Ben Nevis, it would divide into two separate branches… One would march to the pass near Fort William, the other would march north to the Northern Highlands, cross the high pass moving west toward Skye… His plan was to strike a three prong assault upon Skye… with Turas Lan the focus of the Borderer brigades…

A winter campaign was hazardous, and was the reason William chose this time of year… With Robert the Bruce either aligned… or neutral… William’s army would be successful… AND

If Robert failed him, then he could turn one division upon Inverness, then on to Aberdeen...

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

In The House of Bruce
- a flashback-

Adam took one last look at the wagon that carried his beloved away… and Shaden... away to safety… as it disappeared into the night... this is the first time he faced danger alone since he met Bess... but he had fought alone before... he just had to readjust his thinking... thinking he did as the Green Knight of Tyne... he sighed and entered the corridor... making his way deep into the King's Windmill Castle of Aberdeen... He didn't have Bess, nor Eamonn to think for him, or provide advice... As he wound thru the corridors... he continued to think... devising a plan to unravel Maubrey... and to restore Scotland...

In the corridors, dark and dank... Adam found the room where Robert was passed out on the floor... between the beating he gave the King, and the alcohol the man had drank... the King was none worse for wear... Peering in the room, seeing Robert alone, he opened the door, then walked to Robert... picking him up... muscles straining under the dead weight of the man... eventually getting him to a moveable point, Adam got the King into his bed... and covered him up... "Mae King nae more... wot hath thy done? wot daes it take tae make yae see... yae kin protect Scotland wit out da Ainglish... Skye would bae dere for yae... but naew yae side with the Ainglish... yae ave harmed Skye folk... people ah luv wit all mae heart... and faer dat... Ah would raise mae sword agin yae..." Adam wiped a tear away... he loved Robert... they were swordbrothers... and now... he would kill him if necessary…

Poor King, asleep in his bed. Alas, alas! The empire is dead! The people have fled, the faith in it is dead. All mourn deep with a bow of their head...such a rhyme might be recited in later years when the drunken king was put behind an effigy of stone to while away the years in eternal rest. For now, the Bruce waited. Gravity, inertia. They move the form of any man and stir a consciousness that couldn't sleep forever. One eye twitched, the other remained sealed.

In bed...Adam would tuck him in as a brother would another. He cried a tear at the deed to be done, but at killing the Duke? The King shed none. "This is MAH SCOTLAND" He roared to life, pulling from under pillow the blade at the head. "What a spineless, snivelin' boy ye be Adam, the hell cat you married has more cant than yeself. Perhaps she will beget her own heir!" He pricked the flesh of the Duke's arm, pulling back in the bed clothes. Drunk stumble, only once. Still, aim was accurate. Belligerent men were deadly. "Could nay beget her a child. Weak seed, like your weak spine, weak reign. Tell me what they will do to your women when they find them? Do you think they will burn in hell? I fancy they will!" He moved forward, teasing Adam as if to slit him from navel to nose, then withdrawing. "I need a new whore now tha' the franco-italian slutton has been used up I need a new...distraction. This is my land, o' Heir of Skye....and if it is by your Death, oh… you will know it!"

Adam snapped back, but not soon enough to prevent being cut by the King… Robert had surprised him… and spat words sour to his taste… Tears evaporated against the flush of heated skin of anger, as the sea-green eyes narrowed and darkened in tint… “If this is Yaer Scotland, then be the King damn yae… bae naet the submissive cur to the Ainglish…” his hand presses against the cut, the blood trickling down his fingers… “Yae curse mae faer wot Ah dae… cause yae fear the works o’the Ainglish more… Ah and mae court coom tae Aberdeen tae show our support… tae the Bruce… the King o’Scotland, nae tae a suckass tae the Ainglish…”

At Robert’s comments about his wife and about Shaden, he said nothing, he just grit his teeth… But at the threats of death he laughed… “Tis nae yaer land Robert… that was yaer Father’s mistake when he betrayed William…… shall this bae yaer unraveling again… shall the people bae denied what is rightfully theirs… Freedom…?” Adam had watched Robert maneuver himself to the door of his bedchambers… unlocking it, allowing the overly ambitious guards to enter… Adam removed the sword from his belt and dropped it to the stone floor.

With a clang of metal, and the orders from the King, the guards surrounded Adam, and twisting his arms behind his torso, they bound him… and at spear point… pushed him toward the door…

Stumbling and falling to his knee, he looks to Robert… “Yae shall rue this day… Edward and Maubrey shall take all yae own… an’ more…” the guard leaned down and struck Adam in the face… Adam growled and spit blood… then looked back to Robert… the blood trickling down his face… “Yae shall rue this day…” he repeated… “Faer yae shall beg me tae bae yaer Guardian o’Scotland… and Ah pray dat yae shall live tae see Scotland united once more…”

Adam smirked at Robert’s expression… then with a flick of the wrist… the guards lifted him from his feet and carried… sometimes dragging… him to the dungeon.

[Chief Baliff Ealora]

This happens in fleeing Aberdeen...after rescuing Kendrew...A flow back in time. Hope that makes sense.

Ealora: She had made a promise to Maahes that she would leave and let him take care of what was to come but there had been whispers on the wind. The escape of the white hound and her ladies. As much as she was a changed woman, the lust for blood nearly sated, the will to be a pirate diminished. She could not deny that the years of her life spent as a pirate didn't teach her how to ride the shadows, like the shadow witch those of Aberdeen dared to call her. It amused her. Those people didn't know her. It wasn't witchcraft, it was called loyalty. So when she rescued Shaden from being carted off into another fight and brought her back onto the ship. Her feet were amongst the last to leave the blood soaked soil. Her escape meant the death of some of those poor guards of Aberdeen, hadn't Skye and Aberdeen suffered enough? Loyalty on both sides, both unwilling to admit any wrongs. Loyalty meant death sometimes and those she made a sign of the cross on her body as her boots hit the deck of the floor. Those poor men were forgotten as sails billowed in the wake of the wind and the call of the Captain. Each man was worth more then all the gold in a treasure chest. They weren't cut-throat and backstabbing men. They were her men, men with purpose. Yet the danger wasn't escaped as they left the port and hit the open waters. Each man had his own job to do. For battle was unavoidable and came as unpredictable as a storm.*

Pembroke: From the shores of the Scottish mainland a ill misty fog wafted far out onto the open ocean.. it seemed intent on cloaking something.. hiding a wolf.. who preyed upon the ships leaving Aberdeen.. and English Ship.. gray are the mist sails and hull.. seemed an ghostly apparition on the horizon.. one minute a shadow.. one minute a mirage.. so much so it would foul the eyes of a watchman.. until it was often to late..and the Wolf.. was upon them.. it would be a warning shot across her bow that would garner the attention of the Infamous Piratress... a shot ordered by the man who stood at the helm.. guiding the warship.. into the deeper waters off Aberdeen and into the annuals of History.. every seaman worth his salt knew a warning shot was tantamount to Heave aside.. to be boarded.. or destroyed.. it was a last chance given.. Upon this monolithic beast that rode the waves some sixty odd guns..would soon be trained on the smaller Pirate Ship... decisions decisions.(d)

Ealora: KA-BOOM. Her arms around a woman, she threw the woman at the doorway to the gallery. "Get her into the hull with the others. Don't let them be taken." "Aye Cap'n" Came the reply. Rushing to the side, she peered over to see the ship advancing. Damn English. Pushing away from the railing, she called out over the men who were awaiting orders"Prepare the cannon, no fire...not yet." The innocence were stored below. She'd not even have the most able bodied man fight in her crew, not because she did not trust them but she was all ready damned. Why damn them too. Climbing the mast, she brushed russet hair from her eyes. Damn it, she couldn't return nearly as much cannon fire as they could. Jumping down from her position"Don't prepare till I give the word, now get down all of you, out of view. Show me the meaning of loyalty." Hasting to the flagpole, she raised the white flag. Not defeat. Parlay. Did she plan to give up? Perhaps it was on the minds of her men but when had the woman EVER given up? Perhaps it was a trick. Only she knew. "Sam.."she turned from positioning flag to her first at the helm. "This goes kill, you make sure to watch over the others below...now stay course and keep your mouth shut". The quizzical look of her first did not go unnoticed but she merely turned and tethered a button on her coat, hiding the Sai's from view.*

Pembroke: The Crackle of the sails as the wind bailed them open.. was brought to errie silence as the Sea Wolf came along side, boarding hooks and cables tossed over, peircing into the rich mahogany hull of the Pirate Ship.. pulling taut the creaking of the two as they settled into a rhythmic ride on the waves, almost deafening.. From atop the wheelhouse.. he stood.. daunting blue gaze fastened to the Lady... for a moment.. he simply stood.. admiring.. sizing her up.. a boarding plank thunked into place.. between the two ships.. " Permission to come aboard.. Captain Mallory.. " oh yes.. he knew of her... well... it would not be until she moved to walk the plank that he would descend the stairs in slow predatorily manner toward her.. He was a tall man.. some three inches over six feet.. brawny. yet deceptively fluid in his movements.. he wore not the uniform that the other sailors on the Sea Wolf adorned.. no colors of England upon his chest.. merely dark knee length boots.. dark pants, a tanish tunic over white a leather vest and belt presided.. a long curved blade hangin from his hip clanked as he made his way to her.. and bowed.. almost politily.. yet there was a glint of arrogance , english to the core..with a touch of rakishness..to his dark hair that curled in the salty breeze.. " Welcome aboard the SeaWolf"(d)

Ealora: With the button done. Her hands moved behind her back, feeling two extra sai's at her backside beneath the coat, idly touching the stiff weapons as she descended the stairs and moved towards the boarding plank. If his knowledge of her name surprised her, it didn't show on her face. Celadon eyes swept the crew behind him. She held no ties to England, the only part of England she had ever seen was the blood of its men she spilled. She owed the English no allegiance even if the blood in her veins was partly English. Her appearance fooled even the most skilled onlooker. Egyptian, ever curve screamed it. Proud of the land she grew up in. Letting her arms fall away from her back, she wiggled her fingers at him, as if to say, see no weapon. A sneer seemed to cross her features, like a glint of sun, quickly gone. He was just another Benjamin Brad. There was tension, on both sides, cut it with a knife and it would thicken still. It wasn't fear that gripped her, only a heightened sense of awareness. The cool breeze making the sails whisper in protest to the lack of movement of the ship. Raising her boot, she set a foot against the plank and slowly made her way over. "Captain..."Honeyed voice flowed without an ounce of fear. Defiance perhaps but not fear.*

Pembroke: No weapons indeed.. he was not some greenhorn just out of short pants.. he had watched the way she carried herself upon boarding.. the little step down had given away the fact she was armed beneath her coat, brave little Chit.. he almost chuckled but managed to keep it in " Captain August Pembroke " he rose to smile at her... " What cargo do you carry Madam... I'm under orders to confiscate all contraband.. that would fuel the rebellion " he moved now to circle round her.. not crowding her but.. surveying the lay of the land.. when he reached the backside of the land.. his brow quirked in appreciation.. a woman in britches.. there was ... a god!(d)

Ealora: A singular brow rose in question at his name. Funny, she hadn't heard of him. "Charmed..I'm sure"Honeyed voice flowed from her lips, forcing herself to relax when really she wanted to just snap his neck right there and be done with it. Her face stayed forward as he circled her until he stopped at her back, finally her head turned and her body followed. One fluid movement. Like a sensual dance. "I assure you Captain Pembroke, I hold no contraband items on my ship. Besides, I do not answer to your orders nor from where those orders come from. You shot at me. I gave the benefit of the doubt in parlay. If this is your reason for firing on my ship and endangering the lives of my men. Then I'll be on my way and you will allow me passage home." Defiant and high and mightily lady, no, high and mighty pirate woman. A daggered stare went in his direction. She wouldn't give away that she was married, or as good as. Her promise to Maahes in the Abby was their promise to God. No need to give him rise that there was value in the pirates life.*

Pembroke: He seemed amused.. by her speech.. " so the rumors are true.. it is a mans heart that beats behind those...breasts.. of legend " he chuckled " My aim is true Mallory.. you ship nor your men were in danger.. unless I willed it.. and weather you answer to the orders of England or no.. you are... in no position to demand.. anything.. much less in such an.. indelicate tone " tsk tsk tsk.. he waggled his finger at her as suddenly he grabbed her by the waist.. disarming her of the two sai's tucked beneath her coat at her back.. as his burly arms gathered her.. firmly.. without harm " Tis not nice to bring.. to a meeting of the minds Darlin " his breath in her ear was teasing.. his voice that of a lover.. before he released her.. and stepped aside.. handing off the twin weapons to a nearby sailor.. " What am I to do with you.. my orders.. of course were to sink you.. and all souls aboard.. you've nay a strong group of fans in Aberdeen.. " he moved again pacing,, his hand stroking the well kept beard as he seemed to be formulating a plan.. or.. perhaps it was toying with her.. Pembroke.. was known to be a cad.. a rouge.. and unreliable..(d)

Ealora: "I'm sure there are better legacies I've left behind and a about a dozen more better breasts then mine Captain."She retorted, there was a threat there behind her words. What was it though was his guess and her knowledge. The sudden pull of her waist had her raising her hand in defense. Her jaw locked tight as the panther in her growled in return to his ear"If you wish to keep your manhood as well as your head this day, you'll release me." He did release her but perhaps not because of her command. Was she so un terrifying? She wasn't truly angry yet. A turn of her head went to see the Sai's passed to a sailor. "I'll be getting those back before this is done. Just lettin you know." Turning her head back to pembroke, she watched him strutt. Damned English feathers, you could take the man out of England, but never the English feathers in his arse. "I'm never nice Captain, as for your wandering thinking aloud, I'll say this only one time...I don't answer to you, or to Aberdeen..I've left many places with few to no friends. You think to frighten me, toy with me, whatever you've got planned, you can take a flyin leap off the side of your ship and hope the sharks get you for their kinder then I am."*

Pembroke: " a closer inspection would be needed to surmise correctly the validity of.. if indeed there are better.. breast to be had.. " he chuckled.. " You raised a parlay Flag.. MiLady.. so what offerings do you bring to the table?" his voice rumbled after she finished her tirade.. " Your skills of diplomacy are sorely Lacking.. but I will wager that comes with.. getting caught with you pants down.. by someone with a much... bigger gun " oh she just brought out the sarcasm in him.. the need to prick her with his wit.. and knowing she of the fairer sex would likey find his innuendo most boorish and disturbing.. well.. he was quite enjoying himself.. and her reactions.. what a spitfire..a hell cat.. already he was imigining her beneath him... his eyes moved from her ankled to waist.. dam to feels those locked about his hips.. but I digress.. " So.. parlay.. show me your skills of negotiation.. I await thee with baited breath.. and open mind.." he was mocking her of course and knew she was in no position to protest. (d)

Ealora: "It's not the size of the gun Captain Pembroke but the force of the boom." Hands raised to settle against her hips. Idiot, did he really think she was completely unarmed? Spreading her legs, she gave the look that she was completely at ease. "Nor is it a question of getting caught with ones pants down. Oh I'll agree with you on diplomacy. I've no head for politics. So lets make this simple, sweet and short. Lord knows I wouldn't want to surpass your record. You let me walk back onto my ship and sail away now and I promise to let you and your men go." There simple and sweet. Well not sweet. "Lord knows I wouldn't want a beautiful, what was this again, oh yes boat, at the bottom of the ocean nor do I like the sea a ghastly color red from the blood of you and your men."See, while you might have an advantage of firepower, its short and vastly overrated.."She stopped there and grinned at him, hellcat? Damn straight. "My tender ears are just burning to hear your counter offer..We could be at this all day."*

Pembroke: He had to give her credit for.. spunk.. she had it in spades.. even when outmanned outgunned and standing on the deck of a ship of the enemy " MY men will board your ship and serch it.. anything deemed contraband will be removed..He had to give her credit for.. spunk.. she had it in spades.. even when outmanned outgunned and standing on the deck of a ship of the enemy " MY men will board your ship and serch it.. anything deemed contraband will be removed..while you are my guest here.. or.. we could have a little contest.. you against me.. you win.. you get just what you wanted.. you sail away... unmolested.. ship and all souls intact.. you lose... and you spend the night aboard the SeaWolf.. as my guest.." the import was in his bed.. but he was much to much the gentleman to insist.. though he could have.. without much fight.. as even now.. his men stood at the ready below.. a broadside strike against the Shadow Storm will tethered would send her to the bottom almost before the lines could be cut.. "A little sword play perhaps... till one yeilds?"(d)

Ealora: "A contest."now that her brow raising once more. Her head tilting slightly to the side in obvious surprise but also made her weary of the man before her. There was more at stake then the lives of her men. She could agree to the search, but his men would be dead before ever reaching the people within the hull and he would be shooting at air. Even now Sam strained to keep the ship looking as if stalled with lose of sails and the anchor kissing the bottom of the ocean beckoned the ship. She hadn't been a pirate for years for her health and she wasn't alive because of luck. She was good, she was just to modest to admit it. "Very well, I agree to your terms. One one condition. You lose, you order your men to push the guns into the sea....and weapons. Including your clothing. Just so I can be sure your not hiding anything underneath. What say you?" A smile itched at the side of her lips, twitching them but never truly appearing.*

Pembroke: " I say you came to make a deal.. and while I would let you go with everything you are.. guns clothing and dignity you would leave me in such a grievous state.. Milady.. you truly have a wicked heart... but you are in no position to bargain.. my way.. or nothing at all.. in which I will likely still gain.. my...goal.." he patted the sword on his hip..the movement punctuating the word goal.. as if to say.. my sword your sheath.. either way.. love(d)

Ealora: "Very well, then I accept. I didn't come to bargain Captain Pembroke. I came to win and that means everything. I promise you by the time we are finished. You're going to wish you made that deal with me." She didn't expect him to honor his agreement. That was why there was a slide of eyes to Sam who continued to hold such a questioning look, masking the pain it was to keep the ship in position. That look said it all, this goes bad, you and the ship get out without me. Celadon eyes slid to the Captain again"I'm not partial to swords Captain, mind if I use my own weapons?"A arm waved lazily at the sailor holding her Sai's, no doubt wondering what the hell they were.*

Pembroke: He nodded to her " Use your own the two you still carry " with a chuckle he moved back a few paces.. and without ceremony begin to strip his vest from his body.. leaving behind the white linen shirt.. loose and flowing.. was there a tactical advantage.. perhaps.. it was just comfortable who knew.. August was well.. an enigma.. to all who had ever tried to know him.. and failed.. there was not one who said they truly knew the man.. unbuckling his belt..he slid the sword from the scabbard.. more a cross between sword and rapier.. a custom weapon.. fit to his hand.. as the belt was tossed upon the vest.. "Ladies First " he inclined his hand to her.. allowing her the first attack.(d)

Ealora: Oh he was good. She would give him that much. This was going to be an interesting challenge. Not a worthy one but an interesting one. Unbuttoning the single button, she pulled the folds of the coat open wiggled her shoulders as she shrugged it from her shoulders and threw it to lay at the railing. The Sai's in their shealth winked up at him. Perhaps it accented her hips more, giving the illusion to accessory more then weapon. A small Sai, looking much like a brooch was taken from between belt and pants as her hair was weaved up and the small thing thrust down to keep her hair up. Crossing her arms, she pulled the sai's from their sheaths and let a twitching grin pass his way."Lady, hm" Amusement tinted honeyed voice as she stalked towards him, much like a panther towards its prey. Pink tongue snaked its way across her upper lip as she stalked this way and that in front of him. He said first move and she was indeed moving, her feet. Never attack blindly. Much as she hated the man, Ben's voice resounded in her head. With a small cry, she leapt forward, swinging one sai towards his neck, the other towards his stomach in an parallel motion.*

Pembroke: On the surface Pembroke was a cad.. a bounder and probably to the untrained eye.. one would think him and overly pompus ass without merit.. yet his eyes told a diffent story as they hardened.. she moved like a jungle cat.. feline deadly.. and would strike just as wildly he was sure.. there was no way to avoid the simultaneous blows.. to reflect them with one sword.. a quick sidestep, removed his gut from her aim, the sai gracing empty air as the ring of steel upon steel blocked the strike at his neck.. with a turning motion his hand came round in a back fist that landed firmly in the middle of her spine shoving her forward into the main mast before her.. before he backed away.. a lift of his brows a little smirk.. " Here kitty kitty "(d)

Ealora: The block left her back open to him. Damn it. He didn't strike the way she thought he would. Instead using his fist which when colliding with her spine made her cry out as she was thrown forward against the mast. A low growl left her lips as she turned on him. "No, here jackass jackass jackass." Hissed back at him. Advancing on him again, she rose the Sai's, the claws of the panther, posed to strike before she stopped and turned as if to move away from him before she did a roll. dancing on the tips of her boots. the Sai's drawn backward, tips pointed at her arm, blunt side towards him, both directed right at his stomach.*

Pembroke: Before he could bring down the sword she struck, catching him offguard with her gymnastics.. the sword still arched down.. headed for both her forearms as she landed her blow.. without warning.. he tossed the sword aside in a clatter upon the deck it had not been his intent to maim the hellcat beauty.. only to tame.. " Mercy " he grunted.. allowing her her victory... a strong hand grasping her about the back of the neck and hauling her close to him.. his words whispered against her ear.. " Go Hellcat.. I would not see ye tamed this day.. " he released her and backed away.. " You'll suffer no more my company.. go.. and fair seas to you "(d)

Ealora: The Sword raised had her nearly jumping back, drawing a step backward. The Sai's were whirled to point first. His grunt itself caught her off guard. A brow rose in suspicion. Before she had more time to wonder what he was up to. He was pulling her to him again to whisper in her ear. Turning her wrist downward, no doubt he would feel the Sai at his groin before his words whispered at her ear. He would spear himself on the weapon had he made any more move forward. There was no taming the panther in her. The creature always there but never seen. As he released her, she took a step back and sheathed the Sai's at her hip again. "We'll be meeting again Captain Pembroke..you of course know that."She shot back shortly. She was no soothsayer. But she knew that much. Moving to the sailor with her Sai's, she grasped his wrist as she plucked the other set from him."Told ya I would be getting these back." She moved again, this time collecting her coat and moving to the connecting plank. "Better luck next time Captain."Tossed at the Captain as she crossed enemy lines back to familiarity. "Sam, our anchor is missing us, lets reunite it!" There was a rumble that started low and grew, laughter. Her crew was laughing. From their hiding place they seemed to spring like mystical creatures, and they...were laughing.*

Pembroke: " Mallory " he called her name as the grappling hooks were loosed.. he leaned on the rail looking across the small expanse of water toward her.. " There's a bounty on you head.. take care to keep it on your shoulders.. twould be a Shame not to have a second date!" he saluted her with a wave of his hand as the Sea Wolf Bore off north.. oh he would see her again.. but not... as she expected(d)

[agreyingknight]

Robertson colors adorned the group of people that made their way to the Griffin Castle. They surrounded a large black stallion bearing a covered bundle. At the head of the group was Devon Argyll his head low and a look of grief on his face.

Once within the castle gates he would dismount, telling the rest to stay mounted and guard the stallion and his bundle. He then went within the castle letting it be known that he needed to speak with the Duke and or the Dutchess.

When he was escorted to the waiting room he paced the room in an agitated manner.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

The Gallows
- a flashback to Aberdeen -

The trip to Aberdeen was wrought with happiness and anticipation of being accepted and lauded for its efforts in Skye… and the anticipated trip down memory lane for Bess and Adam… but as it was, it turned out not as expected but completely opposite. Now Bess and the court had escaped with their lives… the King and the Duke’s altercation in the castle… Adam, having returned to the Bruce’s bedchambers, had found himself accosted by the King, called treasonous, and imprisoned.

From within the cell, Adam would suffer abuse by the guards… the forceful handling of a Duke was unusual for the Bruce’s men… and yet, they obeyed their King… It had been days since his incarceration… and in those days, he had heard the sufferings of Kendrew’s men… On this day, it was late one afternoon, he heard sounds of construction… Gallows were being constructed especially for him… He began to make such noise, to attract the guards’ attentions… with that goal reached, he began to petition the guards to contact the Bruce for an audience… which was not heeded…

Then the day came for Adam to be sentenced… in the courtyard of the Castle, Adam was bound, his hands behind him… the gallows complete and ready for his hanging… Nearby were fyre stands, ready to burn others captured at the stake… and if captured, the Lady of the Isles – the Harper would also be burned.

As the guards lead the accused man toward the courtyard, the people were calling for his release… only a few instigators within called for his execution made quick… Adam could see the fear and anxiety upon the faces in the crowd… Scotland was truly divided… not only by the ruling parties, but in its politics… and fear of retribution stayed their minds…

Step by step he approached the bottom of the gallows… It was already decided he was to hang… so why was this mock trial being afforded… What did Robert the Bruce… King of Scotland… have planned for the Duke…?

[Lady Katerina]

The sun rose in the sky yet the day was a bit brisk as Katerina set out in the streets of Turas Lan. Walking lost in thought with her head down she passed the people bustling about in the streets going about there business.

Two men watched her with much intensity for they knew who she was, they had been watching her since she came left a ship with a large burly man who had taken her to an Inn.

Waiting for just the right moment to make their move they followed her down the street... she had no idea they were even there. Kate had healed from the attack in which her mother and father perished along with any that knew her. Unaware that the new found safety she felt was about to come to a very short and abrupt end she headed for the Griffin gardens hoping to find some solice and perhaps a bit of courage before seeking an audience with the Duke and Duchess of the Isle.

Was Grace alright? What had become of Shaden? Had her satchel been found before all hell broke loose in Aberdeen? What had become of the young knight who gave her the gift of her clans signet ring on a golden chain?These were the questions that plagued her mind these days?

The men followed her but a at distance... timing was everything. " Bring her by any means necessary." was the order they had been given." Just bring her to me alive... she stands in the way of my plans. I will not allow her to take what is MINE!! Through her I can rightfully claim Lairdship of the MacKinnon's and rule freely as I so choose!"

Katerina walked through the gate of the garden an was struck with awe by its beauty, though her heart was heavy with guilt and worry for she new she had little to prove who she was.

She bent to smell a flower when she heard the heavy footfalls behind her here in the quietness of the garden. Snapping upright she looked about and saw the two large men and panic filled her.

Katerina looked about to see if any were there that might offer aid... nope she was alone! She moved down the path hoping that she could find someone, for she did not like the looks of these two.