|
Post by Lord General Maahes Asad-Aziem on Jan 14, 2009 19:52:16 GMT -6
Adam’s words filtered through the crowd, of peace and war; battles ahead that could not be lost, and it was here he found himself grounded—ready. For weeks Lord General of Skye had been caught in the crossroads of the fires. Flames as high as the sky consumed him only to smother out any air left that filled his lungs. War was an art to him, the only mode of creative form he could release openly. To his wife he would give another, to his children they would know his love, but for his country he gave every ounce of his freedom. Willingly, he would go to war, with passions edging the sharp sides of his blade—for their future.
Maahes was not a man of many words, in fact very few were given chance to ever catch a single sentence from the beast, and as he stood there against the sidelines, defiant arms crossed over a massive chest he found very little need. The Aberdeens always knew just what to say, and for this he was thankful. It would be little speeches that gave him the motive to continue. Words of peace, and brightlit futures moved him from the troubles at home to the hope of a better tomorrow.
With an army on the rise, the past months had been long. Scouting the countryside for hopefuls, shifting tactics, advancing weapons; it had been many years since he had seen such a rich vibrant country come together as one. Yet, here is where he held his hope. It would be their unity that would get them through this, as too many times had he known an army to split at the seems and fall apart just as the heat of the battle could be no more. He would not go through this alone, and for that he was thankful.
It would be with a heavy heart he would watch his Lord offer his words once again to ease the minds of a nation who had seen far too many deaths, but what better way to start a New Year then to clean the country—to start anew.
---
Letters would be drawn up, asking again of a nation to send any able bodied soldiers to the arena. Posted out the doors would be a station ready and waiting for any to enlist. It was never too late to serve your country. It was never too late to serve yourself. Be part of the event that will write history, and place your name within the list of the unspoken heroes of our time.
|
|
|
Post by Sir Nicholas Stryker on Jan 14, 2009 20:43:48 GMT -6
War has been whispered upon the winds for months. At first, the old Knight would of readily admitted that he was NOT joining the army, he would NOT fight. It was not because he did not want to. It was because with war a price was always paid, people lost their loved ones upon the battlefield. In many cases it was women and men who fought alongside each other, dying for the right cause. Wives lost their husbands, husbands lost their wives, mothers lost their children, siblings lost each other and children, lost their parents. This was not the reason he would not fight, he did not fight anymore because WAR had taken EVERYTHING from him, his homeland, his sons birthright, his sister, his friends, his wife, their unborn child and his son.
Some would say that this was just fate...happening in the time of war. That it was to be a reminder to strive again for the happiness that was lost. To realize what you were fighting for. For this old knight, it had been a defeat. A crushing blow he had thought never to recover from. He openly admitted not going to war and had been called coward, had been called a traitor, had been called every name in the book and even screamed at by a hormonal Lady of Red Wall...though her name would forever be omitted from those who hadn't witnessed the sight. At the time, still partially blind but he stood hardened against harsh words until a fire haired vixen had caught his sight, a thing he had once taken for granted and by Gods mercy, had been given back again.
Realization had hit him then, one man could make a difference. It had not been easy to admit to the woman he loved that he would in fact be going to war. The war could be won with one man more or one man less but it could also loose for one man less and if they lost...their world would change, her world would change and he wanted to see freedom, not only for her but for all those he had come to look on as friends. For himself.
Luck would have it that he was in the market one day to hear one of the Duke's speeches. As fate would have it, it only solified his will to indeed return to the battlefield. He had done it many times and while his knees cracked often and training now a days took its toll, he never showed it. This old man, was returning to the glory of the battlefield..
The letters of the General went out, the old man heeded it. Heading down to the arena to sign to the parchment of able bodies.
Nicholas Stryker....Retired Knight no more.
|
|
|
Post by Queen Beathag Aberdeen on Jan 14, 2009 23:08:31 GMT -6
The greatest treasure lay kept in a chest of stone; writ in script of spider's style A name, time held close, forever keeping The tears that from eyes brimmed, weeping are dry The greatest treasure, forgotten lay the hearts holding fast to the story have long since died.
Murieall of Aberdeenshire was a great niece of the Lady of the Isles, and so was Davina's cousin. Their blood differed by a little and at once by great divides in the families that had grown, swelled, and changed at the mouth of the rivers Dee and Dun. They lay in state together. Davina died some time before Murieall had, but the pair of them seemed to be spaced by mere weeks. In their morbid sleep of eternal beauty, above them the world would rumble. Soon, the dust would be brushed from their dead lips. Soon, Murieall's words would resonate:
" I am killed by he who loved me. I am killed by that which I loved. I am undone by loyalty and buried beneath the last Kingdom of Scotland, giving way to only Scotland remaining. "
[Murieall's last days, coming soon][/center][/color][/font]
|
|
|
Post by Dame Kaelyn Urquhart-Raven on Jan 17, 2009 20:37:08 GMT -6
Phantom had gone into the city for supplies when he had hear the speech from the Duke... he knew Kae would want to know what was going on so he gathered the things he came for and rode for the camp of his fellow knight's to deliver the word.
Once in camp he began to look for Kae and found her in the lists training as hard as the men... he approached and told her what he had heard. " Ready Baran... I ride to sign my name ... it is your choice if you follow or not." she said as she smiled to Ademar who she had been sparring against." Thank you Ademar... the play was greatly needed." she teased for she knew as well as he that neither had been playing and both had found themselves on their backs a time or two.
Riding into the city they rode straight to the arena dismounted and waited in line as others did. War was not something one took lightly... lives could and would be lost, families left to carry on without a loved one.
She stood proud and tall with her men though it was a mute point for her to be here... she was the Elite ranger as well as a Knight of Turas Lan... she could no more walk away than cut off her sword arm.
She spotted Maahes and approached him from behind and in a moment of impishness reached out to tickle his side, and moved a step or two back quickly just in case." Good day General." she greeted him with a smile. A dark bruise graced her jaw but she cared not what others thought... it was then she heard two men talking loudly next to her " Women have no place fighting they are to weak and simple handed to do what a man does!" the taller of the two said looking right at her. Pagan and Phantom took a step closer to her but she turned and without a word they stopped. She shook her head.... people could be ignorant at times and she would let it slide,if it had been another time and place she would have shown them just how weak she really was. It was her turn to sign the paper and she did so with pride.... the flowing script of her handwriting would say....Dame Kaelyn Urquhart-Raven Knight and Elite ranger of Turas Lan and Skye.
|
|
|
Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on Jan 20, 2009 15:32:02 GMT -6
[shadow=red,left,300]Strategem[/shadow]“He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks.” The periodic speeches and discussions he held within the city, now expanded to the countryside. Villages became the stops, where commoners would listen to the Lord of the Isles, voice their concern or offer their fealty. It was tireless to see the faces to those of the land… those that feared the impending war, despite they grew up in the times of the clan wars…“He will win who has military capacity and is not interfered with by the sovereign. It is the sovereign's function to give broad instructions, but to decide on battle it is the function of the general." This was the stratagem that Adam would use this time… Skye’s military might would be his sword… not the ornate steel that swung at his hip. A simple book of the ages, written almost a millennium before and miles away from his homeland, would bring the threats of past and present to a converging point that he could control.
|
|
|
Post by Lord Admiral Jack Flynn on Jan 20, 2009 23:35:18 GMT -6
The Death of the Galleon Immram "From this day on, no ship in the Griffin Fleet shall bear the name 'Immram'. - Order Issued by Lord Admrial Jack Flynn, after the destrution of the galleon Immram. T'was the very invisible war that Kendrew had a distaste for - a war that was fought not face to face, but within the confines of the shadows - was still at play. Although the Chess Masters of Skye had gathered at the Lily, it appeared that the manipulators of men who opposed Skye still piled their trades. Which amongst the gathered personages would be the first to realize that not all was at it seemed? For the evening sky, already made dark by the setting of the sun, was made darker still. Not by the proverbial clouds of war... but by a cloud of ash. This great beast was fed by an umbilical that extended heaven-ward from the point where the shore and coast of Skye met with the vast expanse of the blue-green sea. Was the Lily close enough to see the flames that capered into the twilight? Did the wind blow just so, carrying with it the aromas of burning tar, canvas, and hemp? Did they hear the crackling of flame, as sea-worthy wood was rendered into coals? For the enemies of Skye had made their first moves in this war, although their target had not been the high and noble of the land. Their target had been the guardians of the sea. This eve, they had claimed the life of an old salt who was to patrol the dry docks where the Griffin Fleet underwent repairs. A dirk had been their weapon of choice for that. But for their true intents, they needed only a bottle of the cheapest of ales and a lit rag. They had smashed their naptha concoction against a choice target indeed. It was not one of the war cogs being constructed, nor was it a merchant that burned. What was gutted by fire, t'was the strongest and harddiest of ships in the Griffin Fleet. The Immram - flag ship of the Fleet, personal vessel of the Lord Admiral - had been set alight. Not content to simply burn, the Immram allowed herself a grand death. T'would be a shuttering of sea and sky, a clattering of church bells, as a wave of sound rushed outward from the Immram's very heart. The valiant ship then seemed to force the water down and away from it, to tear itself a sunder. A distant, deafening, explosion followed later. This marked the point at which the soul of the warship was vanquished, and the Immram's keel - it's very spine - was split in twine . T'was a fitting death for such a grand ship of war. For the flames had at last consumed the powder magazines... and the Immram with it.
|
|
|
Post by Chief Baliff Ealora on Jan 22, 2009 0:05:28 GMT -6
The day was bitter cold. Considering there was not much many could do with the cold. They endured. So did the crew of the Shadow Storm in the absence of their Captain but it was now widely known and seen that the Captain was with child and would NOT be following them into battle. That did not mean she was not aware of what was going on. That she was not part of the crew, the head of the crew. Months had been put to use. Repairing the ship, making it stronger, making it better to follow the naval forces of Skye into battle. As promised by her word and hand. Her crew, her ship, to the will of Skye. Now the repairs were done and she same, dressed in a sari because nothing else fit to the half moon round of her belly that protected the baby within her. A fur lined cloak around her shoulders guiding against the bitter cold, she climbed the plank onto the deck. New sails were rolled into place, begging to be released. Space had been made on deck for more cannons, the wood in places had been replaced, stronger to withstand the brunt of battle. The crew stopped in their work, cleaning up the mess of repairs to turn and look at their Captain. Taylor removed himself from the help and final repairs which had a new rigging put in and smiled as his hand waved at Ealora. Celadon eyes took in the sight with as much heartache as there was joy. No one understood the torment within her. She had never missed a battle and it was not the want of battle. It was the critto by which she lived by, justice. This was as much a battle of justice as it was freedom. She was thankful for the crew that followed her. Who hang to ever action and word she gave without second thought. For as much as she watched their back, they had watched hers and now, to protect the family she had built, to protect that child within her, one in which she all ready cherished, one that was the essence of her love for her husband, she would be staying behind. She moved forward, waddling really to take Taylor hand and use his help to climb the steps to the helm. Her fingers touched lovingly against the wheel. Silently she prayed to the ship, that it would carry her husband, the warriors that followed him and her men, home safely. Celadon eyes lifted from the wood to find her crew still watching her, even those who had been on the dock, half on the plank and some still standing on the dock, awaiting anything she would say. There was worry in their faces, though she knew they would never speak of it. After all, this was the first time they would follow the order to go on without her. Inhaling a deep breath, she singled her thoughts and prepared to put their fears to rest. Her voice rose with the wind, high so even those not of her crew on the dock would hear her. "I can not ask God, for a better crew. I offer my thanks for his grace. That each of you, has set your hearts to a single will, mine. I give thanks that my orders have always been taken to heart and never questioned. When I recruited each of you, I promised you a single thing, Justice. Each of you have felt the deep panes of loss, of what cruelty can do. I have been privileged to see each of you grow into fine sailors, fine warriors in the battle of justice against those who would do harm. Proving that no deed goes unpunished. That there will be those who stand up to injustice and cruelty. To show to the world, that evil will not endure and will not be tolerated. I know, that this will be the first time that I have not gone into battle with you and that this battle, will be different from any we have fought before..." She turned and clasped the railing between her hands, taking a moment to inhale and release before she continued. "But the will is the same. Skye has made the stand, made the statement to say we will not be oppressed and we will not be ruled under actions we do not find right nor just. The Lord and Lady of the Isle, the Duke and the Duchess, had been ever merciful but firm. They lead with an open hand and an open heart. That each of us may seek a way to live our lives how we see fit but under laws that are there for as much our protection as others. They have given us free reign of our lives, never governing how we worship, how we love or how we live. Now we stand, as a nation, as a whole against those who would see us suppressed under their thumb. We will fight for freedom but even freedom must come at a price but with a bright outcome. Freedom will be paid with the blood of innocence, with the blood of men who believe in fighting for what is right, for freedom. I know your hearts have fear, it shines in each of your eyes. I can not promise you that some of you may fall but I can promise you, that this dream we fight for, is one worth shedding your blood for. Were it not for the child within me. I would follow for this dream is as much my own as ever person within Skye who sign their name to go to war, and those who stay behind and gather supplies. Each is doing their part. I have ever asked you to follow my lead and my word and you have done so but now I ask each of you to take a stand, on your own, for or against the cause. I will not think less of any of you should you see fit to leave my service. Keep in mind, my friends, my brothers, that no freedom was ever 'freely' given but fought for, died for. So that future generations may reap the most benefit of what we do today. That they will be opened up to opportunities we fought to keep open. Death, comes to all, it may come sooner for some then others. But death is only one more journey and I make this promise to each of you, that you will not be forgotten and that you are not just one man amongst many that will go, but that your story will live on. YOUR Story. Let us stand together, march defiantly against those who would rob us of our humanity. This gentlemen, brothers, is the price of war. We rise, with noble intentions and we risk all that is pure, but remember this, we are only as great as our hearts will allow. We are only as strong as our wills and morals allow us to be. Let us be a nation that goes to battle with the cry that we will not be shackled, that we...WILL be free." A general outcry came from her men and perhaps some on the docks, she was not sure but a smile curled her lips as she nodded to her men below. There would be none who left her service today or any other day. One thing was for sure, The Shadow Storm and its crew(minus the Captain for maternal reasons) was going to War, not because their Captain ordered it of them, but because they felt the will within them.
|
|
|
Post by Lord General Maahes Asad-Aziem on Jan 22, 2009 10:32:44 GMT -6
"Women have just as much right here as useless little boys." Maahes's voice boomed over the gathering that spoke word against Kae's arrival, and instantly the men closed their mouths. Wide eyes passed to the General who had always been seen as one sided. How many times had he and his wife publicly argued over her place in life. Was he so desperate he would send a single mother out to her death? No. Kae was a warrior just as they and would rather die then sit at home waiting. Yes she had children to return to, but she also had his promise she would return to them--just as he would return to his own.
|
|
|
Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on Jan 22, 2009 12:48:15 GMT -6
Coincidence or Plan
Coincidences ?. Ponderence of destiny? Free will…? Illusions? Or a matter of perspective? Speculate simply on the idea of some master plan, that, from time to time, we're allowed to see out of the corner of our eye.
Again, he would enlist the Knights Templar in the impending war to keep Skye safe. Through the unveilings that he and Bess had discovered over the past few months, many ideas and suspicions had developed. Was it the Knights Templar who saved the couple and brought them to Skye for a reason? Had it been their mission all along? Were they the true guardians of the Isles? Had it been their mission to keep the Lord of the Isles safe? Did they fail the mission in saving the MacRauri’s the first time? Did Murielle and Davina have a master plan of their own?
1307 !! Was it just coincidence that in the spring, Scotland defeated the English at Loudoun Hill; was it coincidence that Edward the Longshanks died that summer BEFORE the Templars were arrest in the fall of that year? Adam, in his sixteenth year, became a squire in service to a French knight, Charles, Baron de Lyons. Bess married Calibre Moriach that same year, setting her upon a course with destiny. Was these also coincidences?
1327 !! Coincidence? Edward II of England was murdered by order of his wife, Queen Isabella and Baron Robert Mortimer… and Edward III at age 14 became king of England… Inverness was attacked and the Highlands of Scotland were scourged by war… Segregated and surrounded, Adam “Sudovaine” Aberdeen and Dmitrii Zurban were rescued by the Knights Templar and brought to Skye… Adam and Dmitrii returned to Inverness and rescued friends and family from the English grip and brought them to Turas Lan… Adam Sudovaine and Beathag Aberdeen were married... Knights Templar aid in the capitulation of the English from Skye… The MacRauri Chamberlain of years past was found in the dungeons… The King’s Way discovered… Coincidence?
“Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir people's blood and probably themselves will not be realized. Make big plans; aim high in hope and work, remembering that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone will be a living thing, asserting itself with ever-growing insistency. Remember that your children and grandchildren are going to do things that would stagger us. Let your watchword be order and your beacon beauty.”
Plans ? Oh he had so many irons in the fire, he just hoped that he could make them work… The English has amassed an army south of the border… and no telling how many ships they had stationed already… and their spy network was excellent… BUT… so was his… and even if his ships were outnumbered, they were not outgunned, as he had the best, and newest rifled cannon… and the ships had better maneuvering capabilities with the new rudders… though losing the Immram was disheartening, he still had his Admiral… His walled city would rival the walls of Troy… except he had cannon atop them… and his army, which grew in numbers everyday, was well-trained. Maashes, Dmitrii, Eamonn, and Balian had seen to that…
Order was his watchword… plans were laid… come spring… the Gryphon would face the Bull… Skye would be free… forever… or he would die trying !!!!
|
|
|
Post by Queen Beathag Aberdeen on Jan 22, 2009 14:28:22 GMT -6
The paper scrawled with names continous until a woman offered her hand. Men began to debate as the attitudes of the day mixed with the free reigns of this strange, inspired country where all with a heartbeat were entitled to let their blood flow as it would. "Dun tell them, yet," she breathed to to Brom as he stood off to the space. In the collection of men she was encased so well that she did not stand out. "Ah want tae see how it gaes." Beathag was as hot tempered as any man that bore arms. She was as rife with want, honed with skill, and set to use it, as any other. The softness of her hands nor the beauty of her ageless face could change the raging fire within. Only now it was cooled by gentleness, stoked to burn for the tools of another war.
The villiany of words. The tempered, refined stance of a dominant ruler. So it was in this way she watched a woman reach out to commit her name to the infinite. Her friend and warries had returned home from a life that was not to be, the General had a life that was thought only an illusion. Life was but a dream, they said, and if so they were all fools so powerful as to bring a mighty realism. Chuckling, the sound carried to a solider who peered out to see his neighbor was not his brethren at arms, but one of the Order. Applying his fist to his heart, he bowed. As Brom did this, the Highlander pulled back the cloak covering her most recognized features. Sun struck auras over the hair, and at once a great mumbling arose as the men parted to show the interchange had been watched. A judgement was levied, if one could call it that. It was more a concurence.
"Ah agree, General. Mewlin', babblin' lads are useless tae a war front. But like a woman given a chance, a useless lad can be made tae be a ferocious, honorable man just as the woman may be more than ye e'er thought. Good! Ye see a woman's name therein, m'hope is tha' if ye have any fools among ye, ye put ye name beneath m'Dame's.." Men came to knee while some began to chuckle. Stepping forward, the signature click of bootheel was muffled under the earth, but still resonate. A half-moon belly and a glowing face turned the dark, grimy face clouds to witness the dawn of a new era. In silence, she put a hand on Kaelyn's shoulder. Welcome home, it said, Welcome to the place that always opens you There was a difference since last they were seen together. Placing forehead to forehead in solidarity, she rose in order to smile towards Maahes before looking to the men he'd collected. "Look at them all, Maahes. E'en if the men are vanishin' from their posts, e'en in knowing the fates o' so many, here they stand. Good, native sons. Strong people from other places who believe. Ye'e done well." She peered out to them with a warm smile, and spoke these words:
"Ye have all done so well. Now let me tell ye wot it is ye sign your name to. It is nay fer your Generals nor for orders. There is nay vanity in the purpose we afford ye tae lift your blades and battlecry. If ye think it is Lord Aberdeen, fer me, ye are wrong once again. It is not fer ye to fight for flesh and bone. It is not fer ye tae go forth for any unless ye believe. Ye have not seen me, aye?" One man agreed to this, and another, "ye have not seen me long sae ye ask why is she here, among us now? It is tae tell ye why it is, like m'husband, tha' ye are to fight in a war tha' by all reckoning shall be as nothin' tha' has or shall e'er be again." Resting her hands on the expanse of her belly she said, "Ye fight for the promise of life itself. Tha' and all things tha' it shall be the promise to be freely taken. Aye, to be free. Ye fight tha' ye might stand as ye do. Breathe as ye do. Debate as ye do these things. Make no mistake all have a place here on this parchment or on the field of battle if will, health, n' the Gods are willin'. Will I gae with ye tae those places? Nae. Nae any longer in the flesh. So do nay love the flesh nor the heart of your sovereigns but the life in them tha' loves the same in the land. Take this with you." From her belt she unraveled her standard of a White Hound, "Ah, as this hound, have long since gone tae rest. But the spirit of it remains. So take with you this as a sort of spirit. Take your spirit. That is what ye fight for! This is what I will fight for, tae. The lives o' my kin. M'birthright, m'place..in tha' I promise you this. All tha' gae will not be forgotten. I will sing n' my kin will sing you for generations long after ye are gone from this world."
In the intense pride in the moments before cries of exaltation would come, Beathag leaned over to the pair at her side. "If none can 'arbor your children, I will. I will care for them with everythin' had."
|
|
|
Post by Sir Kendrew Campbell on Jan 22, 2009 14:41:04 GMT -6
"Ye are all people of amazement to me. Should I come nay from the place of dark I will remember what it was tae live, here, in the light with you. Long may ye all reign."
On the outer ring of the outer most part of the circle of men, Kendrew watched as history was made again. He had been privy to a great amount of things in his lifetime. Speeches, hopelessness and the morning of a battle wherein everything became a miracle that had them survive. Being not God, he could not call what his fate today would be, but he would remember the company of good men like his Duchess had charged him to remember the spirit is what they fought to endure. The promise of it. Of life unending. For this reason he would proceed to where the dead were kept long before others would even known he was gone.
To either prepare their way, or to die, trying.
Battle At Fieldren Forsts, Part I
Kendrew: He bid goodbye to the world above him with a thought to the wind and a turn of his back. It was a journey that he wasn't taking his possesions towards, nor his wife, or anything that marks the life of a man save but a few things: where his horn had hung in the alcoves of stone courtyard now lay a place where the dust had collected along an outline of the same. Pieces of battle leather were clasped against him. A hard breastplate, guards for his legs, but on his hands were the leathers studded in bits of cold steel. Gauntlets that had seen no use since the battle of Trotternish. No luck could bring Roric from his fate but he would be damned that, if in meeting him, he would go down as his men had been. Picked down as no better than the lot that scoured the dark passages of Turas Lan. Burned in fields of grain never harvested. Vanished in mist that covered their eyes only to be parted to reveal their deaths or worse, the evidence of betrayal. Good men were earmarked for the end. Signs of their lives gone up in flames. Perhaps it was the burning of the Admiral's ship that spurned him harder for it was recent. Or thinking of Balian's weak legs and Eamonn cresting the final dawn far too much. These little pieces of himself gone from the greater scheme of things invoked nothing like the one thing the change of the guardsmen on the wall did see: "The Lord Guardian's pole arms. They are gone!" His heritage, his truest thing, was no more. By the time any looked for him their eyes would not have been on the outskirts of the walls where he grunted hard to push an inclimate stone aside. Through this sliver the sounds of men were clandestine pieces of what-not in the night air. He was intent to move from one place out to another, if it could be done. The Lord Marshall himself had wanted the last of the men to be flushed away. Waiting on order or mandate would produce nothing. If any followed his steps, or took up his work in the tunnels...he didn't know, but soon it would be evident the effect it would have. Soon, the woods would host men to be revealed under a winter's moon for an end that fitted them. Unawares and violent (d)
Mark Laughlin:From Ulster, he came to see what good he might do here in Skye; medium height, dark hair slicked back and wearing bits and parts of uniform he found out in a long ago battlefield. Tonight, he walked partol about the perimeter of the area, cross bow in hand, strolling, casual and watchful. (d)
Rufus MacLeod: The speech had been given and among the crowd, Rufus had listened. With his most loyal and skilled men at his side, he was ready for war. Though the weather might have been chilled, he wore the kilt of his forefathers, displaying the colors of war and hunt upon them. This was what it meant to be born of a land and fight for it's freedom. Thick, muscular legs showed as he straddled his horse and rode proudly with his men in tow. Armor like the knights was not for the clan, they fought with flesh exposed, barely anything to keep them safe except for their skills and weapons. Not even a helmet sat upon their heads as they followed after Rufus, who in turn was following after the other knights. This was his home and he would kill anyone who pose a threat. Blood had been spilt and more was certainly due.
Lucius: Leather gloves were pulled onto his hands to cover and protect them. Lucius--though this was not his first battle--had never found himself wearing anything but the leather studded brigandine over his torso that his father had made. Now, under that armour he wore the chainlinks that had been a gift to him. Leather pauldrons from his father's smithy. Lucius spotted Sir Kendrew making his way toward the familiar entrance and frowned a moment. The horses. Kendrew lost his in that attack, but surely someone would be willing to lend the man a horse, after all he was the right hand of the Duches herself! Surely that had to count for something. Lucius ran back to the stables, one gloved hand holding the hilt of his sword so it did not trip him. Booted feet came to a sudden halt as he turned the corner and moved onto the stables. Dark eyes glanced this way and that before he found a stable hand and asked which horses had no riders to bear them. The boy pointed to the dark bay stallion in the stall not far. Quickly thanking the boy--who was younger than he, Lucius rushed over to the stall and grabbed the reins. With practiced speed the squire saddled up the stallion for his knight before doing the same to his own black Friesian stallion. With the reins of the bay stallion in his one hand, Lucius road out of the stallion and toward the wall where the passage door was located. Checking his own steed, Lucius quickly dismounted. ``My Lord!`` He called out. ``A knight needs his horse.`` He said with a half smile, handing the reins to Kendrew
Kendrew: Back and forth was the order of the hours. Back and forth along the passage until ultimately he was surprised by a voice heralding him. Alone in thoughts for hours, the right hand of the Duchess was the only had of the venture until he looked up to find youth loyal. Too loyal, be damned! in spite of himself he lent a grin as appreciative hands took the reigns of the bay as the horse's head met with the neck of the knight in inspection. While the beast snickered at the salty scent of perspiration, he said, "How did ye know." Perhaps the feeling of men being cut down to nothing inspired a few to seek their own justice. "We go further than before. To the just at the edge of field and woods. They will be risin there'." He was soaked with fluids from the exhaustive work but felt they would yield good result. "But still, lad, how did ye know?" Torch shone the smooth walls of the passage. Coughing, his lungs inhaled too quick the first gusts of fresh air they had known in hours. "Saw traces of others, at the wood end. Maybe..they heeded" They? Men of arms weren't fortune tellers, but one could perhaps hope for the sight of a comerade (d)
Mark[/b[: ( The quiet was unnerving; that wasn't natural. Mark swerved his head, for he thought he caught the clink of metal, unseen. "Who goes there?" (d)
Lucius: For the plan they were about to execute, it would not do for Kendrew to have to resort to his own feet! He could get swamped in the passages or if they collapsed passage ways, he could be crushed without the swiftness of the horse. Lucius would not let his knight come to such happenings. When Kendrew asked how he knew, Lucius only smirked, standing beside his own horse and holding his reins. ``I saw you walking without a horse...had you your own, I thought you would have brought him.`` He said with a light shrug before he held the reins of his horse and offered to take Kendrew's new mount as well as he followed his knight into the passage way. Valerius snorted softly, inhaling part of the dust and stale air of the tunnels that traversed under the city. Hopefully they heeded, he thought to himself as he looked to Kendrew.
: "Tis nay the horse. I meant how did ye know where I'd gone." For he hadn't told Lucius when he was returning to the passages but the lad knew. He didn't reveal that he had left the edge of the General's arena yet somehow, he knew. God brought them together, indeed. If he survived this battle, he would have a standard made at long last baring the spear, the sea, and the fist that pulled him from it. Making a silent promise to himself, he edged the opening enough for the squire and the mounts. With only a torch, he had let the lack of sunlight filtering through the specific places fade as he had cracked the stones. On the journey in, he showed Lucius how his work had taken him deeper into the dynastic womb. Up above, the guardsmen on patrol would be privy to a silence so disheartnening, it was no wonder why the men began to call this place haunted. Whole patrols vanished into nothing here. The mists were yellow, acrid and thick. Mark heard no night birds or even the scuffle of the animals. For Rufus, even the strongest men began to wonder how the wind seemed to bend the field so little. It was a a night ripe for the sort of battle that would reach the pubs and royal ear come morning. Crackling. Scuffling. Somewhere stone began to scuffle. Was it the sound of men coming from underground? Pushing upward? The veteran knight gave pause. "Listen." (d)
Mark: (Mark Laughlin) The bow was ready and wound; so he took the iron claw tool which tied his waist belt and armed it, bolt aimed at a shadow. The Ulsterman played a waiting game, while gloom and mist hid the unknown. Spirits, to be sure. But embodied or no; that is the question. (d)
MacLeod: The sword laced to his side, was adjusted as he rode upon the horse and moved through those still on their feet with care. With only thirty of his own men, he waited for the other clans to join them as they sat there among the lands. The mist, the air, none of it felt right, but when did battle truly feel right? Brown eyes shifted as his horse snorted at the scents around them, some of the other men's horses did much the same and took a step back before the men soothed them. Where were the other clans? Why had they not come yet? As the leader of the MacLeod, he was normally the first to bare arms and rise for war, but this...felt different. Looking to Duncen, his second in command, both held a moment of silence. It felt like red lines all over again. Duncen sneered, and spat towards the ground over the left of his horse. ``Letus nay jump yet. Wait a bit more.`` ``Wait until death comes from the hand of a unknown?`` ``Duna jump yet to such things.`` Eyes shifted about the fog, waiting for anything as he rose his hand up. The men that could see him became alert and those that could not followed their brother's motions. ``Watch closely into tha night men.`` The sword laced to his side, was adjusted as he rode upon the horse and moved through those still on their feet with care. With only thirty of his own men, he waited for the other clans to join them as they sat there among the lands. The mist, the air, none of it felt right, but when did battle truly feel right? Brown eyes shifted as his horse snorted at the scents around them, some of the other men's horses did much the same and took a step back before : the men soothed them. Where were the other clans? Why had they not come yet? As the leader of the MacLeod, he was normally the first to bare arms and rise for war, but this...felt different. Looking to Duncen, his second in command, both held a moment of silence. It felt like red lines all over again. Duncen sneered, and spat towards the ground over the left of his horse. ``Letus nay jump yet. Wait a bit more.`` ``Wait until death comes from the hand of a unknown?`` ``Duna jump yet to such things.`` Eyes shifted about the fog, waiting for anything as he rose his hand up. The men that could see him became alert and those that could not followed their brother's motions. ``Watch closely into tha night men.``
Lucius: For as long as he had been serving Kendrew, Lucius had a good understanding of the knight's mindset. If he was not at the pub--and thank God not the Gilded Lily--or with his wife, then he had to be on duty. This was were their last duties had taken him. ``If you do not have ale in your hand, then I figured it would be steel. This has been where duty has taken you. Worth a guess...turns out I was right.`` He smirked a bit before going in with Kendrew. Hearing the sounds of the earth tell the movements of those above, dust fell from the ceiling, a pebble here and there, which made the bay snort and shift to the side quickly, closer to the squire that had his rein. At the words of his master, Lucius glanced over to Kendrew and arched a brow. Listening as he commanded, the echoes of movement from above and in the passage ways traveled to them. Lucius swallowed hard. ``I follow your leave, sir.`` He whispered, and a gloved hand passed the reins of the bay to him
Kendrew "Let me mount up." He whispered. A few choice bits of the ceiling shuffled. Wood beams cracked, and for once the voices of men was a roar through the stones moving beyond them. "We haven't much time!" He bellowed ,"They are tryin' to find way to the top, n' so help God..most of them won't make it." He kissed the tip of his spear and begged the forgiveness of his leige for not telling him all he knew. He prayed God would grant him strength and a place beside his brother if the unmentionable would come to pass. "For those we've lost." Above ground the shaking became too obvious to ignore. Was that, below the forest floor, the indent of dust huffing upwards as the cornered men began to find a way out? A hand reching up, arms pushing? Turas Lan was a puzzle box, an infinite puzzle and this would be the product of what happened when her mysteries lay still for fifty years(d)
Mark (Mark Laughlin) A second hand boiled leather jacket he wore for armor had a hole through the gut; the young man tried not to think on anything but his current patrol; the moments before a skirmish are without measure. Action is a flash.(d)
MacLeod: Many things could be over looked, but not the sounds of the ground around them. Horses grew upset and irritated, making a few men jump from their back with the riens in hand so they could calm the horse. They did not need the steeds taking off with them upon their backside. Leaning forward, Rufus gave his steed a pat to ease him down his eyes watched in the distance, seeing the rise of...the hill? He was not really sure what he was looking at, but movement could be seen and felt with the ground. Giving a loud whistle in the sound of a local bird, he rose his hand once more and made a 'come here' motion. Those upon the ground made their bows ready, aiming towards the motion that could be seen. Any lights that were lit, were rolled along the ground, sealing the group of men in darkness as they waited. Had it been another clan, they would have said something upon approach. In the msit and darkness, they waited. For another clan, for war, for death. They waited.
Adam Adam was about the city with the Black Talons on the usual evening patrol... oblivious to all that was occurring. Still the night offered an eerie sense of apprehension. Especially the white stallion he rode, pawing at the ground... It was as if it wanted to dig whatever was underfoot... Even Adam's soft pat against its neck would not render it calm... Adam simply motioned the patrol forward::::::
Lucius Lucius did not need to be told twice to mount for as soon as the words came from Kendrew's lips Lucius was swinging up onto the back of the black stallion and one hand gripped the reins tightly. His free hand went to his chest, palmpressing flat for a moment as lips pressed themselves together tightly. Taking a breath, his hand lowered and Lucius reached for the sword at his side. Dark eyes swept over to his knight and watched the man kiss the tip of his spearas if to bless the weapon. Lucius nodded. ``..And for the living.`` He added to Kendrew's words, before spurring his horse on with the pressure to the horse's flank
Kendrew: "Ye will live to get your spurs and honors Lucius, and e'en below this ground...you are a knight beside me now. Ride then, with me, Sir Lucius, son of Bolverk." He pointed his pole-arm toward where the fray awaited in the black. Certainly twenty if not thirty...what if more...and they were only two upon horses. "Our Duke...when this is o'er...shall be as King." In his moments as the horse was spurned forward he shouted, "LONG LIVE THE KING OF THE ISLES!" No lance could have compared to the simple weapon as it glinted. Around a bend. A curve. As the air became thicker before the gust of winter cold told the surface lay in wait the first man of the enemy was crushed beneath the angry hooves of the bay stallion. "FOR THE KING! THE QUEEN. N' tha'! Tha' is fer my men! HA!" - (d)
Dmitrii Destination unknown... Dmitrii followed the old knight... something was amiss and the Kievan didn't want to miss a thing. He had his swords drawn; his hands gripped the hilts tight as he entered behind the men... unsure of what lie ahead... he would trust only one man... Kendrew... they had fought together in several wars past... and besides Adam and Bess trusted this man with their very lives... then so shall he... The curly locks of dark hair tucked back by a leather braid... the beard trimmed back to seductive lines about his face... his eyes a steel-gray, lighter than usual... Sure footed step after step, he edged his way into the darkness, not far behind Kendrew.... taking note of the falling debris, he carefully looked upward, his swords poised... one for defense and one for offense...<d>
Mark (Mark Laughlin) What went through his mind? Prayer? Quick flashes of his life? Naught but that feeling of being a wound spring ready to release maximum energy instantaneous. He gripped the crossbow, ever aware where the iron claw, that hand of the Devil's Mother in Law, was; it was going to be shoot, rachet on the run and draw. Training will prove one way or the other, now.(d)
Gottschalkian Forces The bold plan initiated by the Lord Kendrew, meant to finally lay rest a long-standing conflict did occur quietly. For all attempts, all preparation, there were other forces at work here, and it seemed the concealing mists favored those who dwelled in shadow. the narrowing tunnels winded further into darkness, dimly lit by torch, haphazardly constructed. Worse, yet, the narrow cavernways made even standing shoulder to shoulder difficult. It was silent as the grave. For a terrible moment it may seem as if their prey somehow had gotten wind--as they would wander inward, they would find equipment strewn about, as if abandoned in the haste to flee the place. Yet the flickering lamplight suggested otherwise... and as they moved to flush rats from their den, it seemed other wheels were in motion. As was customary to most military men, there were sentries set up admist the main force--scouts who kept watch on the outskirts, to warn of flanking attacks or to catch any who might try and slip through the net he'd taken such pains to meet. Many would have no event.. and in one small corner, a pair of them would find their vigil disturbed Staring out into the mist, anxious and uncertain so far from their allies, they began to grow slightly disturbed. One of them heard a faint sound--a rustle of leaves. He motioned silently to his comrade, and the two began to cautiously advance. They made no mistakes, professional, trained and tempered together, they fell into step without a word between them, naturally covering each other's flanks and widening their field of vision. It did not help them. No sooner did they draw closer that there was a series of twin hisses--a pair of bolts whistled through the air and struck fast, striking one dead, lodging into his throat. The second one impacted on the man's chest, and he let out a startled cry before collapsing to his feet, his last sight the tops of the trees before a pair of blurred figures moved into his view... and stuck a long blade into him, severing his spine. Soon there were other, shapes in the mist, and they began to cautiously advance. When the trap was sprung... Kendrew's forces would not find it so easy...
MacLeod: Rufus pondered calling out to who ever or what ever it was he was looking at. What if it was innocent cattle men coming from somewhere? What if it was children who were roaming about in the night without their parents knowing? The silence did not take long to be broken, as the sounds of the earth made everyone alert and the unmistakable sounds of screams pierced the air. All other resolutions were done for as Rufus held his arm high and moved it down quickly silence did not take long to be broken, as the sounds of the earth made everyone alert and the unmistakable sounds of screams pierced the air. All other resolutions were done for as Rufus held his arm high and moved it down quickly like an executioner with his axe upon the neck of a dead man. Men tilted their arrows up slightly, before letting them go from the bow with a hiss into the night air. Wood and steel vanished into the mist to find any targets they could while still leaving so many blind spots. Some lodged themselves into the ground, others hit men that were coming from the trap door in the legs and arms. It was hard to aim when you could not see well, but Rufus and his men had yet to truly give away their places. No torches lit, no light from the sky to show them. They were as much under the cover of shadow as the men climbing from the trap door were in the mist. Rufus waited to hear the cries of men hit while those that had taken their shot slung their bows around their chest and pulled out their swords.
Adam: In the distance... beyond the gates... noise...oddity amongst the silence... then inside the city walls, the guards were alerted and brought to strengthen the evening guard... Halting the large white, he motioned for the gates... Adam and the five Talons rode hard, the hooves clattering against cobblestone... and there he would find his men already manning the walls of the city... archers prepared to fire... as well as the newly installed small bore cannons. Yet only he could give the order to fire... still he needed answers. ::::::
Lucius: Dark eyes turned to Kendrew. By his life he would achieve what he sought, keep the promises he made. But when Kendrew said he was already a knight in his eyes, Lucius felt that swell of pride like no other. Lucius smiled for a moment. Those words meant more than words could even describe. However, there would be time of such later. There was no time. The squire's face turned to that of stoism as the knight gave the charge, though there was only two of them--or so he thought. Raising his sword, Lucius cried out as well, and with that, Valerius was off. The black main whipped in the air as the Friesian cantered through the narrowed hallways of the passages. Around the bend, the horse slid a bit on the stone beneath his feet but kept that balance as Lucius leaned the other way to compensate. To the side of Kendrew he rode hard, with spear and sword. Hearing the cries accompanying the hooves of the horses, men came out, but to their bane. Grunting, the black horse charged over them, not caring if they fell to be trampled. Sword still raised, Lucius switched sword hands for a moment and swinging the steel a trapped solider in the passage was sliced across the chest, the side impact slinging him against the way. The steps of their horses echoed, but that only seemed to draw more and more out. Brown eyes widened as the number of soldiers in the passages increased. Just how man had been lurking! Well, it did not matter now, they would have to fight through them regardless. Pressing his lips together tightly, one soldier rushed out with a spear, but holding his sword in the same handthat now held the reins, that freed hand grabbed the spear, and paired with the speed of the moving horse, Lucius snatched the spear from the man and kicked him back into the wall. The spear was too bulky to keep, however, and so the squire disposed of it the only way possible. Just as Kendrew had taught him, Lucius sat up a bit more in the saddle and launched the spear, impaling one soldier and sending him backward to the ground. Once again the sword was returned to his right hand
Dmitri: He heard the men ahead charging the cry of battle... the hooves of mounted horses crushing men asunder... Not to be left behind, the Kievan cursed in Russian and ran forward... the swords now backwards in his hands, he ran at 3/4 speed to the surface following the knight and his cohort... As the man came upon men, wounded, men Kendrew and his cohort trampled, one good swipe from the blades of death would send them to their Maker... As his lungs filled with fresh air, his steel-gray eyes scanned for those who did not belong... the swords spun forward and was gripped ready for battle... from behind the two, they would hear screams of men dying by his hand... especially those the riders had missed....<d>
Kendrew: He thrust the weapon forward, taking a man on its tip and tossing him against the wall. To the left of him a sword was tossed up, sliced down to the same side, and so the heard was culled down. The twang of the crossbow was a surprise? What in the hell was that? He had no time to deduce what nor when or where. A glint of swords doubled showed him that they were not alone when the Kievan Rus joined the fray. "Dmitri!" He couldn't believe it! It inspired him in new vigor. Making the bay rear back, he launched the spear like instrument forward to pin a man to a hinge in the wall. Creaking, croaking gears began to rise the trap door of the forest : floor upward and the men spill out, a ramp came down, and some were crushed under it. A few of these fighters, however...were hell bent. Sadistic. What had been festering beneath Turas Lan? (d)
Mark His first bolt struck and a hollow thump told him it was a direct hit to some indefinite chest; the second shot flew out and ended in a muffled scream. An arrow wizzed by his slicked black hair so close it grazed one ear and knocked his helmet off , rolling it off into the darkness. (d)
Gottschalkian Forces: The first rain of arrows did its job, felling them as they emerged from the trapdoors, taking the edge of the flowing charge. But the ones who survived the onslaught, the men not crushed by the ramp surged ahead unabated. To say they were a motley crew was to be a vast understatement--no uniform deferred them, there was no rhyme or reason to their weaponary. Some preferred larger, two-handed affairs, others spears, worn swords, a few were improvised weapons. They were thugs, drifters, petty thieves drawn into a plot they could never fathom. But many of them seemed to have lost their minds. Their eyes were wild, seemingly mad. They flung themselves at the first body they could find, simply to gain a strike, some with little thought to their defenses. Others still were professionals, murders and mercenaries. They moved carefully admist the others, waiting for an opportune moment to strike, their weapons of considerable higher quality--these were the threat, and in the chaos of conflict, they had the advantage of surprise. but they were badly outmanuevered. They were also only one problem. Just as the canker beneath Turas Lan revealed itself, another was prepairing itself in place, waiting for the conflict to truly begin before they would sow their through this new battle.
MacLeod: The MacLeod clan was in the open, where others were beyond walls. They had no idea that this would be where the battle might begin, which left them at a disadvantage. No other clans had showed and it was only thirty of them out here. Horses neighed and snorted as they heard the rushing steps of men upon the ground. The mist swirled before the enemy at that moment was revealed. His rough right hand reached for his sword and drew it from his side, holding it out to point at the men that moved from the mist. They were charging and so would the clan. ``HOLD FAST!!!`` Rufus yelled, shouting the MacLeod motto. In a roar, it echoed before the men on horses moved first and the men on foot followed shortly behind.
Dimtri[/b[ Dimitri looked to kendrew as his swords were hacking at any who opposed him. In the moment of his swings, he felt the growing bloodlust inside of him. He was a man who loved peace, but a man who conflicted himself and loved the fight as well. ``I could not let you both have all the fun!`` His tease was short lived, as his swords worked together, perfectly balanced with their strikes. One, two, One, two. Breaths were taken and held as he swung, keeping control his his actions so he never left himself open in a spot too long.
Lucius: The cry of Kendrew calling out a man he had only heard of had his head turning a bit as he threw a quick glance over his shoulder. So they were not alone! Whoever lived passed them would be cut down by Dmitri. Good news indeed! Now they were not so alone but instead had a friend with them. Valerius snorted loudly once more as he raced down the winding paths, trampling alongside the dark bay any that stood in their way. It was hard to stop running horses down a narrow pathway, making the hooved creatures useful. The loud thud of the door of stone unlocking shook the walls for a brief moment before a rush of air cold and crisp flew down the passage. Lucius could feel the cool air on his face as he rode. The ramp crashed down, but the horses did not seem startled. Bringing his sword down once more onto the head of a running soldier, Lucius kicked him aside before raising the bloody sword. ``FOR SKYE!`` He cried out as the black stallion dashed up and off the ramp leading into the woods that lined the field. Steering the horse, Lucius rode one down, a solider who was trying to join the already raging battle! It had started. Lifting his sword after it had claimed the soldier's life, Lucius wheeled around and with Kendrew a bit before him, they chased the marching men toward the field to converge with the battle that began.
Mark (Mark Laughlin) He made a quick switch to a switch to his sword and barely had time to swing one good swipe of it when a pike came down on his unhelmeted skull and spilling the man, unconscious, to the ground. Alive yet, but nolonger any aid to Skye. (d)
Gottschalkian forces: These enemies, the vast network fo wretched scum set to bloody work. Lord Dimitri and Kendrew would quickly find themselves at the center of the fray--many of the attacking men focused on those two. But their method was not all that appeared. To the experienced eye, the purpose was not simply to slaughter them--though if one slipped, there was no guarantee of safety. No, what they were doing was hemming the lot of them in. They were trying to cut them offfrom any support. The first few were felled expertly, but the men replacing them steadily seemed to become more adept, deflecting the blow and countering with their own, trying to blunt the killing momentum and force them to fight defensively. Others surged to meet the surging reinforcements, to head off the impending flank and the inevitable defeat that came with it. and all the while, the final players got into positions, waiting, waiting... timing was everything. hooded men peered from treeline, waiting for signal, for sign. The cacophony of battle filled the air, and still they waited...
Dimtri: Dimitri was better on his feet, able to run fast even with his swords swining. Years of counter balance, many days and nights of practicing served him well. He could get to placed where others could not and while those that survived might have took a few more breaths, it would not be long lived. A male made Dimitri pause as he pushed his sword into the man;'s chest to pin him to the wall with his left hand while a second later, his right slashed his sword acrosds the male's neck, seperating his head from his body. One foot rose to press on the hips of he now shaking body as blood poured from the neck, spraying up over Dimtri's armor. A swift shove and the sword was loosened from the body leaving it to fall in a heap.
Rufus Rufus did not fear death, nor did his men. Their lands, their right, their blood seeped into the soil and made most of the trees grow from years and years of battle. His horse slammed into men one after the other, knocking them to the ground as his sword sliced through the air, catching any along their shoulders, necks, arms. Anywhere that he could reach while his horse pressed hooves into tender flesh, crushing organs under the metal. Only a small portion ran into the middle of the enemy crowd, while others stayed on the outer skirts, or tried to as they fought to keep a small opening for those in the middle to ride back through should they fail.``HOLD FAST!!`` He shouted again, trying to urge his men on with the motto of their clan. Echoes of other men shouting the words as if to inspire themselves, rang out into the mist and night air to mingle with the screams of the dying.
Lucius: Chasing the men down the way and further into the chaotic field the battle raged on but only seemed to intensify. Steel rang in the air, and only seemed to fuse or hinge to the cries of the dying. Had Lucius not been in battle before now, he would have had a rude awakening. However, prior battle and conflict hardened him. As the black stallion galloped onward, Lucius brought the sword down to sever the back of the solider trying to run and aid his comrades ahead. No such thing would happen. However, the opening of the passage thrust them in the heart of the battle. Valerius crashed into a line of men, running them over as the horse let out a loud scream with it. Lucius held on as the sword's tip was plunged into a man on the side of his horse to protect him. Dark eyes tried to keep track of Kendrew, but in the fray of the battle it was hard. Ahead he heard the motto and herald of the MacLeods, the deep voice seemingly dominating the noise of the battle for a moment. Lucius looked up to catch a glimpse of the clan's chieftain, but as soon as his eyes snapped back to the battle, a man with a long pile was rushing for them. But, the man did not seem to have intentions on killing the horse, for at the last second the tip was driven into the ground, but still Valerius tried to stop but tripped on the wooden pike, front knees buckling as the horse rolled over. Lucius tried to hang on, feet digging into the stirrups more as he clung to the horse, but as the horse hit the ground, he did as well. Valerius was quick to get up, but perhaps too quick. When the black stallion got back to his feet, Lucius did not have time to pull his foot from the last stirrup, the side that had been pinned to the ground for a moment, so when the horse stood, he fell backward and was literally hanging on by a foot. Grunt as his head hit the ground, he tried to pull his foot from the stirrup but the pikeman had other plans. Eyes widened and he tried to roll, Valerius moved and drug him a bit. Finally, Lucius got his foot out and tried to stand up, only to find a metal fist hitting him in the side of the face and knocking him back
Kendrew: Chasing down the moonlight and raging toward the dawn is what they were doing. Riding toward the lowered platform, Kendrew pulled his pole-arm out of the center body of the man pinned to the door gears. Turning his head over his shoulder, a dirk found the throat of a man trying to take him down via the back of his horse. Spilling out of the earth the arrow twangs weren't flowing in a consistant direction. Narrowing his eyes, in the saddle thighs clenched as he lifted himself to go forward. He drove the bay hard, taking men underfoot with the sickening snap of spines, the flailing of limbs. Blood spattered on the hooves, but he was intent to rise up. Up into the air. "Dmitri, Lucius, look!" He pointed to the crossbows and where they were aimed. It wasn't just one constituate of Maubrey they faced, but another far deadlier and smarter. Mists made it hard to see...but in the swinging lanterns he saw the tartans of clans. He knew his clans. It was his place in life to know any that would stand near his Duchess. "They are aiming for them!" Horror. Pure horror filled his voice as he snarled a command. "Yah!" Plunging his sword downward, he caught the lower sternum of a man and ripped upward before driving the blade between the shoulders of an assailant. He couldn't speak for the fate of a clansmen after the arrow was shot, but at least another wouldn't be fired! --
Kaelyn: Raveynscrest lay on the borders of Fieldren Forests and crested the longest part of the fields. Hearing the skirmish, Kaelyn had put forth her weapons to back and summoned her loyalest knights to go out and join the battle, findingwhat was there was not enough men to constitute what they expected, but no less violent. It was almost worse. Sporadic. Unsanctioned, the violence consumed both man and beast as they fought for a rough rider's justice. "I want you, Pagan, to go in and fine what men are there! Phantom, gather a charge of the others!" --
Adam: "M'lord what will you do?" Adam asked that of himself. By now, the sounds of the night reached his ears even if others were unaware. Standing aloft by the cannons in the city wall, he would have fired if only he could have gotten a clear shot! He watched a battle take place that he didn't wage..that he wouldn't have allowed, but wanted to happen all the same (d)
Gottschalkian Forces: Now! The sentiment moved through hidden attackers, without word or phrase. The volley of arrows, all aimed at the clansmen cut through the air, and at once the new threat emerged from the treeline, swaddled in concealing cloaks of of earth-tone, similar in guise but again devoid of uniform. No hardened plate among them--leathers and mail and clothes that allowed freedom of movement, wielding various esoteric weapons--some simple Shortswords, or thinner stabbing weapons, not the sort for forward combat, but the weapons of an assassin. A few, still, wielded weapons of the truly bizarre--one man carried a pair of exotic Katar, a pair of punching daggers clad in each hand. And in their midst was one--gaunt in frame with short, black hair and a deep widow's peak, sunken eyes, grim, poised, wielding a blade of Hungarian origin and a shorter dagger, a vicious, animal smile painted on his thin lips. Their timing was impeccable--shortly after the arrows landed but at perfect intersect with the charging horsemen of the MacLeod clan. The men at the head of the charge--including the Katar wielder and another who wielded thin blade lept at a pair of outriding riders disoriented by the intial volley, the dagger-wielder plunging one blade sharply in between the armor plates at the shoulder, the force and viciousness of the attack so volitile it knocked both rider and horse clear over in fright. The killers carved their way into the ranks of them, lightning quick, with one clear purpose they were going towards the center of the formation. They were heading for Rufus.
Dmitri Dimtri had indeed been herded, staying near Kendrew even though the male was getting some distance on him. Where had Lucius gone? Had the squire fallen? Kendrew's shouts were heard, but he could not look right away as he swung his double blades in a criss cross, slicing a man across his gut and chest deeply to send him to his knees and to the ground as he choked on his own blood. Turning his head with the few moments to spare, he looked around trying to see where Kendrew was talking about. What the hell was he suppose to do? Quickly he shealth his swords behind his back and ran to charge the first person he saw with a cross bow, using his shoulder to slam them into the ground before fist made short work of the man's face bashing it in until the male stopped moving. Grabbing the cross bow, he stood and took off running, aiming where he could as he tried to make his way after kendrew, following the trail of mangled bodies.
MacLeod Rufus held strong onto the riens of his horse as the animal reared and kicked out at those trying to come close to himself and his master. The sound of arrows raining down came much too quick for most to pull up a shield. Only a few were able to pull up. Rufus felt hands grasp his kilt and yank him down by his tunic. His first instinct was to fight until the sound of his second shouting out to be still was heard. His horse took off running as a shield covered them both and what few men were close, moved in to provide a shelter. A good deal of the Clansmen were shot through the arms, legs, chest, heads. Hand fuls fell, while others grunted and broke the arrows to keep fighting. Seconds were given before more men came towards the middle. ``GO....DUNNA WASTE YE TIME PROTECTING ME...`` He shoved men from his way, pulling his sword forward to fight. He was no coward and he would die for his men.
Lucius His head snapped back from the blow and already he could feel blood racing down the side of his face from the metal cutting into flesh and lip, but unlike last time, Lucius learned. Recovering quickly, Lucius kicked the man back. His sword was on the ground somewhere, but he could not get that just yet. The mand swung his sword, and Lucius leaned back, dodging the attemptive attack toward the head. Lucius pulled out his dagger, the only weapon he had at the moment and when the man swung again, Lucius ducked down and stabbed him in the stomach before pushing into him and knocking the bleeding soldier down. Yanking the dagger out, Lucius stood up and kicked his sword away, only to quickly find his on the ground. Woosh. Woosh. Arrows! He knew that sound, and as he looked up, the rain descended and his eyes widened. Quickly sheathing the dagger, Lucius reached for Valerius and quickly mounted the black horse. Wheeling around, through the mists, he caught the shadow of a man with the strangest weapons in his hands. Lucius frowned, but when he realized where the man was heading, his eyes widened. Rufus, who was now on the ground. ``YAH!``He cried out, galloping toward the man wielding the katar, systematically cutting down people in his path until he was but a few feet from Rufus. Without thinking, Lucius jumped off the horse and went crashing into the back of the assassin as Valerius rode by, sending both men into the ground. Scrambling to his feet, Lucius grabbed his sword as the man swung the katar, slicing Lucius across the cheek. Too close. Wincing, Lucius backed up and pulled out his dagger to accompany his sword. The two circled before Lucius lunged, steel meeting steel in a fury of parries and thrusts. But Lucius was quick and using the end of the hilt of his sword, Lucius hit the man in the face to stand him back far enough so the squire could hold the tip of his dagger and launch it into the assassin's chest.
|
|
|
Post by Lady Liliana Campbell on Jan 22, 2009 20:56:25 GMT -6
Observation came from a pair of sober chocolate eyes. At one time they were filled with an undying light, joy radiating from the face they rested in, and now they were subdued. This day her husband would go off to war. Standing in the crowd, ebon head covered by the hood of her nondescript blue cloak, Liliana listened silently. She wanted to go with, to aid, to watch over, but her place was here. To be upon the field would be foolish as she'd only be a hinderance and she could not go with to aid in healing, though she dearly wished otherwise, as there were other souls to watch over here.
Ones that Kendrew had left in her care with simple words and a kiss upon her lips.
Watch over our family. Keep them safe.
Their family, his family. Mother, sister, niece and nephew, found in Turas Lan. Hidden for their own safety. The last name of Campbell making it dangerous to be about, alone, even in such lands as these. Now, she had two children to watch over, ones without a Mother, and a husband going off to fight to see that all in Skye remained safe and free.
Tears slipped down cheeks pale beneath their copper coloring. Liliana had not cried upon farewelling Kendrew, as a woman did not send their man off to fight with such a burden of worry upon their shoulders, and even now wished that it had been a few moments longer. As his voice rose in the crowd, following after the Duchess, Liliana lowered her hooded head to stare at the ground.
And even now, the words, as uttered once before, and again during their farewell, drifted through her mind:
I would ask that you promise to return.
And so, he'd better. Liliana could not go on without him. She had lost so much already and prayed that God would not take her husband from her as well during what was to come.
|
|
|
Post by Dame Kaelyn Urquhart-Raven on Jan 24, 2009 6:57:55 GMT -6
Kae turned and looked at Maahes smiling softly... then looked to the men before she spoke calmly " I thank you Maahes, a woman I am but unlike most I have been trained my whole life to do what I am going to go and do. If any doubt me or my ability then by all means I will meet you in the arena's sparring ring an prove myself if needed." she let her eyes drift over the men and then back to Maahes " M'Lord General when this is done I believe we have a rematch that has yet to be finished." she teased trying to lighten the mood and her own heart which was heavy. Her children were the closest thing to heaven and peace for her but having them grow in a place that was safe and ruled fairly was part of being a good parent right ?? If for some reason she did not return her children would be cared for that she knew without a doubt.
Bess's arrival had gone unnoticed until she spoke and Kaelyn immediately dipped into a low bow " Your Grace... " Kae stood slowly and the hand placed on her shoulder spoke more to her than words ever could. " I am just glad I can be here... I owe much to you and this land..." she whispered as their foreheads touched. She did not need to say what was in her heart for when she looked into Bess's eyes she knew the other knew.
Sisters forged in the bonds of blades and wars and heart. The choice she had made to sign the document much clearer now... Kae knew she had made the right choice. She stepped back to watch as more and more signed their names and gave each a nod of respect, but when her Knight's arrived and placed wrote their names tears filled her eyes, she had not asked them to do so... they just did. Pagan and Phantom came to stand before the two women and placed a fisted hand over their hearts " Our blades and strength with yours... now until our last breathes." they pledged in unison. Kae could not be more proud than she was at that moment " Shadow Knight's you honor this Ranger... this woman... thank you." she choked out and returned their salute of fist over heart.
Bess then held out the standard of the white hound and Kae gave her a smile" Your Grace.... we will take the standard ... fight for it and all it represents...with honor and pride... for the Aberdeens, the white hound, the Griffin, and most of all for Skye!" she said in a clear voice that rang among those gathered and a cheer when up.
Bess's last words made Kaelyn' s heart pound and her breath catch." I know you will care and love Garet and Jelani as if they were yours... it is that very thing that gives me a measure of comfort to go and do my duty. IF I do not come back tell them I love them, that their father loved them." unable to keep the tears from falling she gave Bess a quick hug and kissed both of her cheeks. Stepping back she gave Maahes and Bess and graceful bow and left to ready herself and her men for the coming battle.
|
|
|
Post by Queen Beathag Aberdeen on Jan 26, 2009 13:36:44 GMT -6
"All we can ask fer in this world, m'friend, is just a chance. If all but one, to set things right. There is nothin' ye can't tell me on yer behalf I dun already know or have seen. Fight well." Kaelyn's hand was squeezed before she subsided again into the fair. It was hard to watch her go. For some, they wondered if they would live to see such a sight again. Others wondered of the product of the ripening womb. A prince, a princess? Whispers of royalty convaluted present titles but all couldn't deny the embodiment of what they fought for was vivid and real, no matter how emphatic the denile they do so on behalf of that living entity.
|
|
|
Post by Queen Beathag Aberdeen on Jan 27, 2009 13:44:59 GMT -6
The Forests at Fieldren Battle, Part 2
Kendrew: God was amiss; the Lord didn't know what side to favor for the battleground was shifting at best. Stone wedges opened from the earth for men to grapple with. The ground shook so hard that it knocked the sturdiest horse off their feet. No one had to sound a horn or raise an alarm in this battle, and if the Duke had seen it? Kendrew considered what the Sovereign might think of watching nary a handful of his finest Court men and less of their high-spirited associates take on relentless, crazed lunatics. Having taken respite offered by a clansmen of MacLeod, it was time to set to the path again. Rayvnscrest was the closest manor besides, so it was they that equipped those that went forth with bow, arrow, and a replenishment of weapon or armor. He took a step over a crag, finding it splashed when his ankle connected with a small creek bed. Leaning in to the side of a hill, the trees impeded his view beyond..
Kaelyn: (Kaelyn) "Send a tracker ahead," The Elite ranger was at home in this element. Wild, uncensored nature surrounding them on all sides with only the wit and good skill to go on. Leaning forward, she was able to tell by touching the earth how far to send the tracker forward, and what signs they should look for. The snow had fallen so footprints would be scant, but markings might tell them where the enemy might be. (d)
Dmitri: Blood stained, he had no wounds... not even a scratch; but he could not say that for the others, for he left a trail of corpse behind him... still he followed Sir Kendrew deeper into the wood. The warrior know as Dmitrii was a weapon in himself... and to himself... for peace is what he yearned for... yet the bloodlust was adrug that was hard to fulfill... Just when he started to breathe easier... the ground shook as if God thumped it with his Almighty fist... He knew Kae would be around somewhere and took a bit of time to look around... still he cursed low knowing she was in the thick of it all and should be home... still her home was threatened and she would be there... A mother first? depends... he chuckled at the thought... Still he trodded on, thru the shifting rocks and land formations looking for Kendrew. <d>
Aegraine: Aegraine tied a scarf over her mouth, careful not to interfere with what scent might be on the wind; a new supply of arrows refuled her weapon of choice and she looked about to see who was nearby. Snow. It had to snow just now. (d)
MacLeod: The MacLeod clan had been sorely out numbered, and their loss was great, but that did not mean that they would stop the fight. Able to escape some how with half of his men, himself and others had taken up their healing on the lands of his people and regrouped. He had taken thirty of fine fighters, but that was not all his army of MacLeod had to offer, for they had only planned to meet with other men. No other clan was to be found and the Macleod had decided they would be on their own. Rufus had spoken with his men, making the choice their own. They did not regret their loyalt to the Duke and Duchess, this was what it meant to fight for something you believed in. You did not always win.More men joined the party, adding well over 60 from the clan as they moved out once more. Injured, he ignored what he could and rode upon the back of his horse.
Adam: Frustrated that he could not use the big weapons, he stood by and kept the guns silent... this by all means frustrated him... but he dared not render troops from the castle on the intelligence he had. He just shook his head. ::::
Lucius The battle was already starting to shift as the odds and tides began to turn. The ground began to shake and rumble under foot and had he not been standing upon the ground he would have been less inclined to notice. As the assassin lay dead at his feet, Lucius lifted his head, dark eyes turning toward the battle and momentarily searching for his horse. Valerius stood a few yards away, snorting and dancing around on his hooves in the thick of battle trying to avoid getting struck. His ankle ached, but there was nothing to be done about it now as he jogged toward his horse, literally fighting his way to his steed before a gloved hand seized the reins and he pulled the horse closer to him.Sword plainly gripped in the other, he lifted it to block a blow and followed through with a swift kick to the soldier's side. While the man fell to the ground from the kick, Lucius swung up onto the black horse, and wheeling the beast around his eyes tried to search for Kendrew, or even a familiar face at this point. War was chaos, and Lucius frowned at not seeing his knight. Heels dug into the flanks of his horse and the legs set to motion, running over anyone who did not move and iwht his sword in hand still, Lucius attempted to lessen the odds against them by helping fellow men of Skye against their opponents.
Lamont: The Men of Lamont had only recently arrived. Their leader, employed directly by Fearghus Lamont, had seen service on the Continent and in Wales, and until three weeks ago, had been busy equipping the geurilla fighters remaining from the last attacks near Cardiff. With blessings from the Abbot of Neath, he had parted to join Clan Lamont in Argyll, and after swearing his fealty to Lord Inveryne, made for the western isles and the service of the Aberdeens. It was in just the nick of time that they arrived and sounded their cry on the new front. "Lamont at the ready, Lamont is come! For Skye!" They would surely not be confused with the enemy, though their new leader had his doubts. But his men assured him their presence at Dumfries had not gone unmissed. Near two-score horses trained for war slowly emerged, flanking almost as many Welsh longbowmen poised for destruction. These men had long been the bane of English armies, and when there was a war to be fought with uneven forces, the Welsh usually gained the upper hand as long as their bowmen held steady, defending fortresses indefinitely. Though MacGilledow was quite adept at defending those fortresses, he also took direction quite well. That is, when he had time to take the direction. As soon as their cry rent the air, he was forced to shelter beneath his shield for the rain of detritus falling from the sky. From the deluge, he shouted for his bowmen to make ready and fire at will into one of the more condensed sections of the enemy's line, bolts slamming into men far from where any allies fought. *
Kaelyn: (Kaelyn) "The men are split up," She looked over her shoulder to speak with Kendrew and Dmitri. The sounds of battle from the place on the edge of the field still sounded strong. "We should send some over to pull our forces from there and bring them together." Little did she knew the entire forest was going to erupt in conflict. The sounds of arrows, cries, and horses were distant, albeit keen ears could decipher them. Pagan and Phantom had gone out into the dark just as the ground began to produce tremors. Pressing her body against a tree, she made a sign, encouraging all of them to get down. A mother first? Always, but a warrior? Until her last dying breath. Darius was not here so it fell upon her to lead them across the landscape. This was the vow she had taken, afterall. Turning her head to Dmitri there was almost a sisterly tease. Of course I wouldn't stay home, miss all the fun? The face said untilthe more serious expression turned the woman's face. Freya began to shift and wine, but what was coming? Pressing her hands to the ground, she couldn't feel anything suggesting more stone giving way..but perhaps something collapsing? "Pagan, the caverns!" The Shadow Knight bowed, quick to disappear toward a network of caverns..only to find something that no man should ever see in his lifetime. Some of the forces were still on the former place of battle. They stood on the outskirts, but others it seemed had been pulled underground into a grisly, ghastly display of murder. Vocal chords wererent out from under the flesh. Blood spattered stones gleamed bright red in the moonlight...and just as he was backing up he found his battle in one of the enemy forces. "ITS A DIVERSION! DO NOT GO NEAR THE CAVERNS! INTO THE WOOD, FURTHER! FIND THE OTHERS! MURDER, MURDER!" Pagan fought hard, and soon was not heard at all as he was in a war for his very life against the forces of Gottschalk. How many had entered this fray? What was their aim, and what was to be the outcome?
Kendrew: "Ah Fook!" He grunted in no less than harsher terms for a harsh situation. Like everyone else, he, too, was now crouched to the ground but no sooner did Pagan's words echo than the whistle of an arrow cut through and took an unsuspecting man down. From the direction of it, soon the two fields of battle would merge. Where was Lucius? All of them were being pushed into the dark forests. Into the veritable unknown where the moonlight could change everything. Looking at Dmitri, it dawned on him that while it was their intention to flush out the tunnel rats...that it was the intention of the rats, who had allied with a stronger, darker force, to kill them all! "LUCIUS!" He bellowed, rising to a squat. Looking around a tree, he took off into the direction of where they had been. To the horses, to the shouts of battle. Crazy, foolish man, but was he any less insane than the ones firing arrows into the dark only assuming they'd hit targets! Finding a patch of light, oh blessed gift, he knotched up an arrow in the quiver. Praying to God was a necessity because he was not a man of aim, but at least the lot of spears gave him some eye and the arrow lodged hard between the ribs of the man several yards away. "LUCIUS, where are ye? Pull the men together! We're being trapped! Lucius!" He had a horn at his side, but how foolish it would be to use it! No one could come here..that was what they wanted! Their fate would lay on a miracle, some arrows, and a little hope. Aegraine had knelt to cover her scent, but did she smell what was above her? The metallic, faint sent of blood mixed with rot. One of the bodies of the less fortunate had marked this place, and indeed, it seems the people of Skye had fallen headlong into one of the deadliest traps of their time (d)
Dmitri: A smile lit his face as he saw his sister... and nodded to her.... and the acknowledgement of her advice... Proceeding slowly onward... her wise-asst comments made him smile nonetheless... Rounding a new outcropping of broken down trees, Dmitrii came up behind a familiar sillohutte, one he'd recognize anywhere...::smirks:: He coughed and called her name softly... "Ae... what are ye doin' here? I did not know yu had been alerted." then he walked quietly beside her... his steel grey eyes focusing and scanning the area... his twin swords at the ready... "Too bad Lord Adam cannot use the cannons... he could have cleared this area a bit... but he does not know what ishappening..." he said almost in a whisper... Then the call came, and his head snapped in that direction... he recognized the voice... "Pezdyetz..." he cursed in Russian... then he looked to Ae and smirked... "Time to go to work Cap'n..." then he ran straight for Pagan and who knows whatever... "Ae... keep whatever off our arses... I'll help Pagan... yu keep 'em off us..."<d>
Aegraine: Ulster taught lePower harsh lessons; the ways of a sniper. Snow reflected more illumination and she aimed into the Welsh gathering, true aim. She had thought to sight onto a wolf, this night. One arrow set in place and sent, into a personage of leadership; he did not even sense it was coming. "A came to hunt a wolf, Sir. ::she stated to Dmitrii. And I have got your back; do what needs done and Iam watching. " The odor from above gave her some foreboding, for what was all out there this night?(d)
Adam: "Send two men out an' see wot bae hap'nin'. Ah need tae knaew. How big a force? who's leading our men? Who gave the order?" All these questions, and more, needed to be answered and quickly,lest this battle lost before his very eyes:
Lucius Madness ensued as cries of the fallen, the injured, and the empowered raced across the battle field. If there were distant sounds stretching from the horizon they fell on deft ear while in the thick of battle. Leather-bound fingers curled around the reins straps as he slowed his horse's momentum and wheeled around again to deal a heavy blow over the head for coming near his horse and the soldier of Skye not far away. But where was Kendrew?! Had he fallen? Lucius had not seen a body of his noble knight, and he did look when he passed by. As he fought his way through the battle more and more, he could have sworn he heard his name. Frowning, Lucius turned in the saddle and dark eyes roamed this way and that. The darkness did not help in the discovery of his knight as he made his way toward the sound. There! Again! It had to be Kendrew's voice! Spurring Valerius on, Lucius wove his way through the battle, close enough to hear the trailing words of his knight. Trapped?! He had to warn them! Pressing his lips together, Lucius jerked the reins and Valerius snorted and reared for a brief moment before the forelimbs were on the ground once again. Lifting his sword high in the air, Lucius ushered his stallion into a canter, waving his sword as a beckon to be seen over the mayhem of the battle, moon beams gleamed from the blade as he cried out. ``STOP! IT'S A TRAP! STOP!`` Lucius tried to project his voice over ringing steel and shouts, but who heard? Those nearest him as he cantered about the field, trying to help Kendrew rally the men and spread the word
Rosalind Avalle: Perhaps it was madness to fire arrows off into the dark, but MacGilledow had lived and breathed the life of a Welsh warrior. They fought in the most unconventional ways, if only to torment their tormentors. And, he Rosalind Avalle: would note, his longbowmen were not the only ones daft enough to fire into the night -- he was forced to duck beneath his shield once again as another volley found him. Patience finally gaining the better of him, he led his horsemen to the flank, but was stopped immediately by a messenger. Fair enough, he harrumphed, sorting with the lad and making sure his intents and purposes were firmly memorized. "Lamont is come," he made the boy repeat. There was no time to await instruction, surely that was clear, if anything at all was clear in this madness! He was about to ask for one more recitation, for the message was too important to lose due to nerves, but just then, a bolt slid through his right thigh. Howling in agony, he just barely managed to gain control of his mount, who had been brought up since birth to react with madness at the scent of blood. The boy's eyes went so wide, that even in the dark, MacGilledow could see the whites. He growled, leaned over, and grabbed the lad by his collar. "Send ye word to yer master, boy. The riders separate from the archers. Let the longbowmen thin out the stragglers." He released the lad, who fell back onto his feet and issued a crisp bow before fleeing off into the darkness. The Welsh captain of the Lamonts was possessed! But he seemed to be holding his own! Unfortunately, the boy was gone by the time MacGilledow began to hear other shouts from the battlefield. What was this, and why were no horns sounding the confirmation? He may be Welsh and unusual in his methods, but this was the truest definition of insanity he had ever encountered in his forty years. Would he send his horsemen into the fray, even unsure of what happened out there, in the dark, and past the arrows? *
Set In Her Way: "FOLLOW, TAE THE WOODS! OFF THEIR TERRAIN, TAE THE WOODS QUICKLY! FALL BACK!" In the fray, the madness had sent his horse running. God, on the other hand, allowed the knight one boon by having the animal desperate for Set In Her Way: for familiarty. On careening in to Kendrew, he lost no time throwing his legs over the thick bay stallion's muscular back. "FALL BACK!" Was it defeat in his tones? For an instant, a look of fright passed over the fighting men as Set In Her Way: if this moonlit night would be their last. A sword was unsheathed, plunged into the back of running enemy, then another, and another as he turned the beast around. "PULL 'EM IN AND GIVE "EM TO THE ARROWS!" Hand to hand would do Set In Her Way: nothing for them when they were being over-run. Suddenly, a battle between scant sources took on the guise of far more sinister designs. He narrowly avoided an arrow as it went twang one narrow second from his skull, lodging in Set In Her Way: to the tree behind him. "Ya!" Heels kicked hard into the bay's flanks as he rode the distance to Lucius. Was he hurt, had he sustained a grave loss of cover? The young man was going to live, damn it! "MACLEOD GET YER Set In Her Way: HIDES IN THE WOODS!" Crazy, war mongering lot! A family could not be culled down tonight! Imagine his surprise, when in the corner of his eyes he saw the colors of Lamont? Did a name carry weight or was it the scent of battle Set In Her Way: that raise the stakes and brought the brave? "Oh this is a fine pile of shyte!" Driving down the line, the knight did a crazed thing. But it was not the time for convention! Turning his arrow about, as the horse drew near a Set In Her Way: place where the closest Lamont bowman was about to be swekered, the bow string went over the enemy's neck .As he was pulling back, pulling up, and pulling hard he drove the horse to move, speeding up the choking process. "TELL YOUR Set In Her Way: MEN TAE GET THE 'ELL OUT O' HERE! GAE ON! TIS A TRAP--" No sooner did he say that then the rumbling cease..only that beneath the lines of lamont men, the ravine they were backed against opened because of the distress in the Set In Her Way: tunnel that much further to swallow them backwards. (d)
Dmitrii: Dmitrii hit the fray in an eerie scream of battle, russian words flying from his mouth that only imitated his actual insanity... though the swords rhymically sliced thru unsuspecting foe... No these were not the usual enemy... these men were different... and as so they fought differently... but after the leather upon his chest was sliced, he reverted one sword and used a style that many had not seen... one so unorthodoxed, it was hard to counter his attacks... Lord Adam had once made the comment, that Dmitrii was a weapon all his own... one that would equal three knights... and this evening, the Kievan warrior would have to prove his worth... All it took was one splash of blood upon his face... one curse word from anyone's mouth and the bloodlust started once again... Pagan was trapped... surrounded... he would not forsake him... the others could regroup, but the Rus warrior dared not...could not... would not... One sword backwards, one frontwards... the tune of death he played for those that opposed him would definitely play the fiddler... he would twist... turn.. spin... slice... spin, duck and slice... a dance of death to the screams of those he faced... His face was covered in blood... no skin untainted as he worked his way toward Pagan... Finally, the two sword brothers were close enough to provide the other protection... Dmitrii would either walk away with his swordbrother or die where they stood... <d>
Aegraine: All she meant was to pick off that wolf who once tried to drag her servant into the deep wood and this was what she found. Pagan and Dmitri kept in her sights, but a fast blink they were. This one and that, too close to either who threatened, a one, two set of arrows flew out; to assist both, hopefully.(d)
MacLeod: Rufus looked to his men as he heard the shouts over the sounds of horses running and people calling out. Kendrew was far away from Rufus himself, but Rufus' second heard the call and began to shout out orders to back up what was already being said. Dark green eyes drifted towards the squire of Kendrew as he ran by, warning people of the trap and to move towards the woods. Men paused, some looking to Rufus. ``YE HEARD THA SQUIRE. TO THA WOODS! MOOOOVE!`` Rufus watched as the clan moved, many running, others on horse back moving quickly in the direction Kendrew and others were telling them to go. Rufus stayed behind, waiting as his men ran towards the woods. He was no coward and was not going to run until every last one of his men had already had a fighting chance to escape. His second in command rode to his side. Looking to him, he spoke quickly. ``A'soon a'tha last man be in, we go. Take tha rear with me, then we part and ye take the right, section tha men off, but stay close.`` Before the man gave a nod and rode off, Rufus reached over to grab his tunic, pausing him. ``Watch ye arse. Findin ah second be hard work..`` Both men laughed, crazy for they were in the middle of the war. As they rode, he shouted out. ``AH AM SERIOUS...`` Making them smile wider before they parted and their serious faces came on.
Lucius It was difficult to suddenly change the momentum and movement of the battle as the enemy continued to surge and force men towards the trap. Like fighting the current or wave, Lucius tried to signal the men to turn and fall back to the forest. Slowly, however, the battle began to shift as more and more turned to head for the woods. Lucius checked his steed and turned around again, Valerius snorting as he pirouetted. Dark eyes turned to see Rufus giving the command for his men to turn and head back to the woods. Well, if he was near Rufus Kendrew might easily find him, not to mention there was a silent, unspoken purpose for Lucius' next actions. Motioning Valerius forward, the black stallion charged forward and soon dashed up alongside Rufus. Lucius glanced to him for a moment, dipping his chin respectfully before his eyes glanced about the battle. ``The battle is shifting, my Lord.`` He said before his sword pierced the armoured body of the soldier that was trying to give chase to a retreating man. Yanking his sword out, he glanced back to Rufus. He wouldn't leave his side nor would he stray far. A promise was a promise.
Lamont: "Stay, ye men," he barked at his riders as they caught sight of the Campbells. "I said stay, ye bletherin' eejits! If ye fire on 'em, I'll hang ye by yer intest-- hai! Back there!" The epithet he would have hurled at Rosalind Avalle: Kendrew was swallowed immediately when he saw the rescue. Oh, he knew the great enmity between these clans, and his suspicion that the man would take the best of the Lamonts now was only due to the fact that his own men were hollering for vengeance -- those that had not seen Dumfries, and had not already fought beside Campbell men for the right of Skye. His levels of trust were low, only because he understood the nature of hatred in men, not due to any doubt in his mind that he had found worthy comrades. This, of course, might make him slightly unloyal to Fearghus Lamont, but he didn't see his chieftain anywhere! He was surprised at the sudden absence of noise -- not at the absence of his cursing, which only seemed to grow louder in the cessation, but at the persistent low rumbling. Screams and horrific *thunks* rose from behind as men began to fall into the weakened ground. MacGilledow was quick to move, even with a bolt through his leg. He drew the hunter's horn from his belt and gave a deep bellow. His men, recognizing the sound, followed the order started by the Campbell men, and raced away from the rapidly crumbling earth. There was no telling how many of his men would live, but damned if he was letting any tarry to die! "Away! Bowmen, fall back, the lot of ye! Yanno, follow the Campbell colors, quick!" *
Kendrew: Campbell colors? If he had on his tartan it was only because his wife had made it for him, and now he was caught somewhere between the politics of his last name and the sheer need to survive. A horn bellowed out, and the tides did turn? Would that sound alert any? Following hold to the idea he took off the horn from his belt breathed in. A sharp, stacatto blare went through the ram's horn, then another. Let it be the day that the Lamonts fall over, saved by a Campbell! As it was he was not their conqueror nor trying to be their deliverer. Aegraine found the body dislodged from the tree, and to interrupt of fire of arrows would be the glint of a sword, coming up behind her to strike! "TRY TO TAKE ME DOWN, YE SONS OF BLIND bytchES!" Lucius was correct when he referred to his knight as a raging bull. He would clear a path for them into the woods, gnashing, slashing, and punching faces every inch of the way.
Kaelyn: "If I go to the halls of my fathers tonight, send me there with honor. Give me a story to tell!" A warrior's prayer passed Kaelyn's lips in Norn as she sent her bows into the darkness to their marks. Her body began to come around the sides of the trees "YE COME TO RAVYNSCREST ON A RED NIGHT! GET OFF MY LAND!" She thought of Darius as her sword came from the ground up to slice through the guts of a man. Did he see her, as blood was spilled in honor of the causes even he believed in? "Go out! Take what men we have left and see to it that the Duke and Duchess have their best come back to them!" Dmitri and Pagan, erstwhile, were gripped for what would be the fight of their lives. Duel swords of a Russian Warrior and the skill of an Arganian were enough to keep them alive! Gaining a little leway, as their backs were coming off the cavern walls, men began to be cut down from infront of them. "No one touches my brother and lives to tell about it!" Freya was not far behind. Jumping up, the wolf took out a throat. Breathing hard, Kaelyn gave a smile to Dmitri that said You always find the best trouble to get sport out of.
Adam: "Who the hell is out there? They are getting' the shyte beat out of them! Who's idea was this and where are they so I can skin them alive!" Adam became the restless griffin. A griffin that paced at his great machine of war: the canon. The mouth of a thing that could shoot iron and fire remained quiet as all he could do was watch the world erupt in turmoil. Clenching his fists, he leaned over the back of it, slamming his open palms down on it. One of his two men sent to collect intell returned by telling him which men couldn't be found this evening, while the other was taking a route out to a place where he could see, through a spyglass, what they were up against. "Adam? AHDAM?" The Griffon Lord looked up in surprise. What was his wife's voice doing along the walls? "Get the fook out o' m'way afore I nail each one o' ye to the wall. Tis urgent! Oh dun bawk at me, boy. Ah carried your prince on horseback when Ah was two weeks from ripe. Adam!" " Bess ye shouldn't be 'ere ye daft woman! Gae home..." He collected her to his arms at the door, only for her to push back and hold herself up, shaking him. "The journals Ahdam! They've been moved. The writings have been moved!" That knowledge sent him to seeing red behind his eyes. Someone either had stolen the knowledge or they were using it now, in what he saw as the most foolish campaign of his time. Few people had access to them anymore. Very few. In fact, only one scholar had leave to read them at Beathag's insistance..and even then there were many things that she, herself, had not yet gone through. "Kendrew.." (d)
Aegraine: The ground shook from horse hooves, cut close in, a sword flashed out and hit Aegraine, almost at mid body. Had she not ducked back, when her foot slipped on the snow, it would have been more than her thick hairbraid sliced up. Six or seven inches of dark hair scattered on the snow and Aegraine hit the ground, amazed to be alive.(d)
MacLeod: Rufus looked to his side as he saw the lad come up along it. The horses seemed to blend perfectly together as they rode and he watched the male strike at another who was chasing his men. Rufus could not help the small twitch of his lips pulled at him. ``Aye lad...aye.`` He knew it well. Ki8cking out his booted foot, the kilt shifted to flash bare leg as he struck a man in the back of the head. His men were in the woods and still moving. Shouts from the leader of Ravencrest could be heard, giving hope where any might have lost it. More fighters, more warriors.
Dmitri: Hands grasped the double blades as he slashed and covered himself with fresh blood to replace the dried blood that had been upon his armor. Eyes glanced towards Aegraine as he moved closer, keeping Pagan's back clear of any who might try and sneak up behind him. Men's shouts and growled turned to sounds of gurgling as his swords slashed through throats, stomachs and along chest. Power. Power to be a God For the moment, to chose who lived or died. Kill them all.
MacLeodRufus moved Lucius towards the right, as his second took off to the left, keeping their men between them to try and protect them better then last time.
Lucius: By all means and rights this was not his fight! These were lands that he was not born from or of the heritage here. That changed quickly, however, for now he called Skye his own and the people he loved and cared for were from these very lands. Shifting the horse around to Rufus' right, Lucius moved with him, making a mind to stay close and protect the Chieftain of Clan MacLeod and the MacLeod clansmen...
Eamonn: .Eamonn came to the edge of the woods, having slipped to Eohmark and gathered his forces. Coming from the North they would have the element of surprise to be sure. When the woods came in sight, Eamonn halted his horsemen and turned to Cormack, his second. ``Take your company right, we will breech their sides. Charge when you hear the reply of my horn.`` He commanded, and with that said, Eamonn wheeled Finbar around and the army split to come around the woods and enter from the sides to punch a hole in the enemy's forces. Trees grew dense and the sound of steel rang in the air louder and louder. Eamonn stopped his men again, waiting for the horn of Cormack. And then, the clear ring of the curved horn sounded, piercing the night air like a swift arrow. Eamonn raised the spear. ``TO DEATH!`` He shouted, and the man beside him pressed the horn to his lips and taking a deep breath he blew a mighty sound from the horn. ``YAH!`` He cried, and Finbar charged forward. The ground shook with the rumbling of hooves striking the ground, beating the air like thunder. Around trees and over logs they charged, Cormack from the right and he from the left side. Tossing his spear into the air to switch positions of it, the dapple stallion rode ahead, the enemy in sight as they rushed in behind the soldiers of Skye. Oh how their eyes widened and filled with dread when the sound of horses was upon them, the herald before the many horsed appeared and ran them over like grass. Eamonn threw the spear, sending one soldier flying backward and into the ground with a wail. Whipping out his sword, that pale horse hair fixed upon his helm moonlight as his and Cormack's forces merged once more, riding the enemy down and sweeping around to guard the rear of the clans and soldiers of Skye. ``DIE WRETCHED BASTARDS!`` He snarled out as the sword was brought down to cleave a man's head in twain.
Lamont: He would catch hell from Fearghus Lamont if any Campbell continued to show such heroism for his men. It was up to him to force his men to hurry, to fend for themselves! This was a battle they had not been asked to join, but Lamont was hell-bent on supporting the right king this time, and if a battle was to be had, there they would be! If any of his men survived long enough, that is. Ignoring the searing pain now radiating up his leg, he rode back to ensure his bowmen were able to escape most of the caving in. And in the process, he took another bolt, but this time -- to the chest. It did not kill him immediately, for he did not begin to waver until he began to choke on his own blood. Caught in forward motion, his horse enraged by the battle all around, he did not unseat immediately, but wavered with his sword arm raised until, finally, he leaned toward the right, and vanished into the dark. The bowmen he had been commanding could no sooner trample over their commander's body, for the damned destrier had gone blood-mad, biting and tearing at any fool crazed enough to approach. The stallion trampled two of the bowmen to an unrecognizable pulp before taking off back to the battle site, and making a terrified charge into the chasm. The bowmen had not a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, but the absence of the hell beast certainly made their way easier as they finally found sanctuary in the forest. And despite Lamont's newfound pride and independence from their Campbell aggressors, they were sadly now under the command of ... a Campbell. For lack of a better leader, they milled among Kendrew's men until they were near indistinguishable, and were fortunately savvy enough in the art of survival to not harrass their new compatriots. and follow an order when it was given. Call it residual fear of being strung up by one's intestines. Perhaps no one would grieve MacGilledow, but his influence was potent. *
Adam: "That old bastard. What have you been up to, you fool! Our country on a razor's edge and he goes off and does this! Find me anyone, who knew anything about what is going on here. If they live through this....they will contend with me." His anger was so harsh, so vibrant that the correct English in the words was clear. Beathag turned to look at the windows where the cannons were aimed. "Wot possesed 'im, this is nay like Kendrew.." Adam turned his head to look at his wife, "Whatever his reason, they should have been told to me." Did he feel anger at the fact Sir Kendrew betrayed a sacred knowledge - or that he did not see fit to tell his sovereign, his friend - he felt as though he should be with them! A patrol had passed them by with no clue as to what had ensued in the first half of the battle. Ignorant, Adam hated being subject to but one more thing he was the last to know. "Bring him to my chambers the INSTANT he makes it beyond the gate, and any with him that command. I will nay be disobeyed."
Kendrew (Kaelyn) "Find a little bit of trouble, Dmi? Ye know boys with two swords shouldn't play in a ranger's forests. Might be too much for 'em! I see Pagan had to save your ass." A little banter went a long way. She pulled out her dagger to carve her name in another place in Skye's history only for her sword to also cut into tender, exposed side flesh. The thrill of the hunt culminated in the kill for Kaelyn. No one would come to her land, harm the people she knew and loved.
Kendrew The world slowed to a crawl when the sound of hooves rent with a battle horn piece his blood-soaked vision to reveal the hand of God come in the form of the calvary! The Lord Marshall himself swept down with fury that made the enemy quake and tremble. Pumping his sword high into the air a renewed sense of hope filled him. "Ye see tha' there? YE SEE IT! Fight hard, drive the enemy in and give them to the teeth of Skye!" The tide was turning again as in the deepest woods fortune and favor finally leaned on the side of the noble few, the proud, of the Griffin.
Gottschalkians: (Gottschalkians) "This will not bode well." A soldier said to his superior as the man played with the saber claws attached to his knuckles. Bloodstained, he nipped his tongue against the tip of the blade for a hint of the metallic pleasure. Mm. The vintage? Excellent. "Oh, it is fine," the commander said, "Maubrey's men are out..we are thus in the open. A few people we may mark and so we see what our enemy is made of. Our place here was only to make ourselves known. Nothing more. Pull away the others. We have..other..things to do." Two wars were developing in Skye. One to be fought as this night demonstrated, in plain sight? Another, for the shadow keepers (d)
MacLeod: Damn it all to hell. Men were still falling even in the retreat. Or of some sort. Rufus kept his sword out, slashing at those that ran for him, cutting them down as they came close to him and lucius. Horns.. they could be good or bad. Rufus turned and yelled to his men.``BREAK INTO YE PLACES.. YE KNOW WHO TA FOLLOW!`` Men started to break away, a section going closer to Rufus and Lucius, another going with his second in command. All were still headed in the same direction, but now they were positioned in a way so they could not be boxed in as they were last time. The sound of the riders of Eohmark was heard, casting Rufus' eyes over to see them heading in, running over any in their way. Looking to Lucius, he called out. ``Time ta get down and dirty lad.`` He paused his horse and jumped from the back to land upon the ground. His kilt short, did nothing to keep the cold from his legs, but it helped him move fast as he used his already beaten body to tackle men and take them to their makers. It was time to be brave, not hide on the back of a horse.
Dimtri: Dimitri knew that voice from any where. The banther, made him shake his head, as he rested his arms but for a breif moment. ``If you say so sister, then so shall it be.`` Sure, a aprt of him did not wish his sister to be in harms way, but this was a battle and there was no time to bicker among themselves and try to tell one or the other to leave. Pulling his blood covered blades back up, he fought harder, knowing he was now going to have to watch Kae's back as well.
Eamonn: A swift kick to the face had one man falling backward only to be trampled by the horsemen behind him. Gloved hands gripped the sword tightly as he swiped it across another soldier's chest as he rode by. Arrow wounds would not stop the Horse Lord. ``DRIVE THEM FROM THE FOREST!`` He command, and lifting his sword higher into the air, he and his horseman charged forward, sweeping away as many as they could, cutting down the odds to turn the tide back to the favour of Skye.
Lucius..Lucius heard the horns, and whether they were for the better or worse would be revealed. Frowning at first, he turned to glance over his shoulder, only to hear the sound of horses. Then..through the trees the banner of Eohmark caught the beam of the moon. ``EOHMARK!`` He cried out, and Lucius smiled wide as he wheeled Valerius around and turned to Rufus. Dark eyes watched the man dismounting from the horse and Lucius did so as well, not going to leave the man to fend for himself! Brave was the kilt-wearing chieftain in this cold weather, and once feet were planted on the ground, Lucius glanced to him. Time to get dirty indeed. Raising his sword, Lucius ran forward,following Rufus toward the battle and toward the men that missed getting trampled by the horse. Slamming into one, Lucius grabbed the collar of the armour and spinning the man around the side of his blade was brought across his middle before he was dropped and forgotten. Bending down the squire ducked a blow to the head from the soldier's sword, and as he ducked, a hand reached for his dagger and thrust it up into the soldier's stomach. A twist of the wrist drove the dagger deeper into the gut as Lucius rose again. Blade snatched out, Lucius fought with the sword and dagger, wheeling about, ducking, spinning, taking down one at a time as he stayed close to Rufus who could more than handle his own. Sheathing dagger and blade for a moment, Lucius jumped on a crossbowman that was aiming at a clansman, and before the marksman could shoot, Lucius wrestled it away from him and pushed him to the ground. Lifting the weapon he aimed, just as Sir Liam showed him, and pulled the trigger. The bolt embedded itself in the neck of another soldier. The crossbowman rolled to his feet, and Lucius looked down to him. Thinking quickly, Lucius used the emptied crossbow to smack him across the face and proceed to beat him with the weapon
Kendrew: Then end was at last near! Handfuls of forces were what had emassed but it seemed in the thrall that hundreds converged on the woods near Rayvncrest. The injured would be gathered there, and as the last battles near him died down he felt proud to have been here. It did not go as planned and good men died, but it was the enemy that suffered most. The King's Way was at last clear and the greatest secret had been unearthed. All of this a man ought triumph over only in that he had told very few, survived the horrors with his squire and this battle with the brave. He did not tell his sovereigns and in the end violated the sanctity of their possesions, legacy, and trust to accomplish an end. Was it justified? Killing his last man of the night, the man from Dumfrieshire gave pause. Once, he had been no more than a pikeman. Now, he was a knight who stood perhaps to loose everything in his greatest achievement - was it?Turning to Lamont, he pointed. "Be followin' them out where they gae. Fight with them, be healed by wot they offer..." The encounters of Lamont and Campbell would be set to be closer than either had ever imagined. "Ha!" Galloping, he came across Lucius' path again. How strong the lad was! Swelling with pride, he called out, "Sir Lucius! Go with them, make sure they 'ave all they need, n' find me when it is done. His Grace will want a report from the field." Or the head of the Lord Guardian on a platter. Of all people, Lucius would know the extreme cost to be levied at Adam's displeasure. "Ye've done well. By yourself, Sir Liam, n' me. Ye've done well." With that, covered in the blood of his enemies and holding signs of them in his possession, he went back towards Turas Lan. (d)
MacLeod: Chaos reined supreme in these moments of battle. Rufus was end all and be all when it came to such. He would not hide behind his men, but be found in the mist of them all, watching whom ever's back he could. He was a warrior of the old but that did not mean he would not get a few licks from the other men. The blades clashing together, the screams and shouts, the sound of arrows flying about their heads was a lot to think through. His already battered body took on more poundings as some men were better with hand to hand them him, but in the end, he was still standing, while they were not. The men began to thin out, as enemies fell to their feet. This night would be a slaughter once more, but it would not be the MacLeod clan who would lay in the heaps of battle. It was a small victory, a small settlement deep inside everyone's heart, though as the clan leader, he could not be smug, nor could he forget that only a night or two ago, he lost half of his brothers and no clan came to their aid, no clan kept their word. Standing above a male he had finally conqured, the anger and rage of the clan's betrayels echoed in his heart and mind, making him raise the sword and lunge it into the man's chest, as if stabbing his heart would stop the ache of Rufus'.
Memento Animus: Lucius beat the man to the ground with the crossbow, or at least enough to knock him unconscious before the useless weapon was cast aside and the squire drew his sword. The hilt was use to bash another soldier in the face before the blade was brought across the man's throat, severing it and ending his life. The sound of his name made the squire pause and Lucius turned to look up and see...Kendrew! Lucius grinned, blood and dirt on his face and armour, but Lucius didn't care, he was glad to see the man alive! Lucius himself was covered in the dirt and blood of his enemies and a bit of his own, but he could hardly pay that any attention. Once again Kendrew called him 'Sir Lucius', and he could not help but feel a swell of pride. However, his eyes widened a bit as Kendrew was about to take off for Turas Lan! In his state?! The man was crazy...well, crazier. Lucius sprang forward and grabbed the reins of his horse to stop the beast before it got too far. ``My Lord let another give word to His Grace! I am still your squire and it is my duty to see to your health. Your wife would beat me ragged if she knew I let you leave in this state...Perhaps the Chieftain of the MacLeods will give us sanctuary for a few days until you are properly rested, fed, and a good proper mug of ale and pipe weed.`` He knew his master all too well, not to mention he knew Liliana would have his hide if Kendrew returned like this to her. Lucius still held the horse's reins just in case his master was stubborn and refused. He would have to drag his squire back by the reins of his horse to Turas Lan. Dark eyes turned fromKendrew and to Rufus, who was felling his own foe. For a few days, they would rest at the MacLeod castle before returning to Turas Lan and deliever a more conclusive field report.
|
|
|
Post by Queen Beathag Aberdeen on Feb 3, 2009 13:17:52 GMT -6
Beathag[/b] Rumbles of intrigue became a roar as no room, no person, and nothing was devoid of the sound of voices that discussed the latest happenings. Griffin Castle had sat in the Cullin Hills, in the midst of yet distant from the world below. That was until the Lady of the Castle decreed that as soon as it was arranged to do so, the Household would need to move for the safety of everyone concerned. "It 'as tae be this way," she walked with a few of the women, the other lords, in an official capacity. Long strides still had to be kept up with. Boots made signature click against the stone. It had been the most in the foreground of immediate decisions any had seen her for several months, but as the Lady of the Isles and of this castle, it was her duty to keep those within on the ready for anything. "We are at once safe 'ere n' nay safe. If we are tae be cut off in our own city, what then? There are tae many here tae risk n' nay matter wot comes the Court must continue on. Aye, have supplies set aside fer a moment's notice . By road or by ship, when the time comes we will beh movin' tae Eohmark, aye. To the North." Seven months round. Seven months of changing moons, of flesh knitting together to continue life. A life too precious to risk. There were other lives, too, in the seasons that had passed --
Kendrew: "If tha' is the case then we still have lives to protect here, all the same," Tensions were rising to a point between him and many where his standing was a foothold in infamy. Still, the Lord Guardian would not shirk his respondsibilities."Ah want the best tae be assigned tae guard the royal family n' the court, all the people here, any tha' move about o' any importance to anyone. do you here me, Brom? Things are becomin' hard. They have not left the walls o' the castle yet, and e'en if the famly should..we must see them stand. Ah want my inner most o' the order put tae the walls, down in the streets, tae. Ye refer them to every man who may need a man." There was, still, a matter to be discussed of a personal nature. "And the brother, the nephew..." Kendrew clapped a hard, firm hand over Brom's shoulder, " Say nothing of that. Say nothin' of it in the streets, and nothing beyond those who need know. Ye saw the Lord Marshall and the Duchess' face. We won't be endangering their brother nor their nephew, nor anyone else fer tha' matter." Secrets. Griffin Castle was teeming in them and it. it seemed Kendrew kept a great any of them locked. From a distance he watched the Lady at her work. The black, the gold they all wore as a sign of unity. "Shouldn't they know.." Brom was cut short. No one would know unless it was deemed fit by Bess to open her mouth. "Go and look, see if any of the court wander about. See what they know. Who knows. We will be above our Duke should he seek a war council. We must 'ave all his information ready for him." (d)
Alendral: The revelations of the past few days had left the former Magician reeling. The revelations of too many things--too many nascent threads swirling, weaving a tapestry that spelt demise of Skye itself... and though he loathed it, thescope of it had long exceeded his resources. No, now was the time to bring the court into it, the time for containment had passed. It was not something any spy liked to admit. There had been no word for Clara for some time, for a time reports drew silent, and at the door, devastating recoveries had sent him reeling, found him relying on old tricks and tatics to uncover them, relying on a past he never wished to face again. No longer. the court had to be aware of its dangers. He expected tension, he expected even perhaps confrontation--what he had not anticipated was a flurry of activity in the court itself. Paniced, he thought first that he had somehow slipped--that he had missed some nascent assasssin struck a blow, or some cell that had burst forth and thrown the country into chaos, but chided himself. It couldn't have been. he would have be summonend, called on, something. He would have had signs. Still it sent him into a frenzy, and he started darting his way through the crowds, through the shifting guards, relying on equal parts stealth and misdirection--no time to try and identify himself, no time to explain it. He was able to slip mostly through till stopped by a pair of guards. "Stand aside! I represent Skye's interests and I have news for the Duchess, now stand aside!" the slender man spat harshly, but the guards were unmoved. They were on high alert--paranoid, seeking an enemy from within, and they did not recognize, nor trust, the man demanding entrance. The atmosphere even tained Sorschal, and he found his frustration mounting. "Oh bloody hell! " There were no side avenues, no way around. What the hell was going on here!?
Ana-Catalina: Though loathed to offer any one side of an argument the upper hand advantage of his person and the political arena of his army he did in fact enjoy a rousing fight every once in a while. So long of course, as it was to his advantage. And there were advantages to the current skirmish for the throne of Scotland that he could foresee as being useful to himself and those under his control. Regal in form, that of dapper black velvet with a shock of silver hair that was nary out of place he looked for intent and purposes like the Duke of Ferrara that he was. But aside from that, he simply enjoyed causing chaos, so it was to that point that he made himself known to this little gathering of head's of state. That the Duchess was sitting in rather than her husband was a bit irksome, but he could play the congenial courtier if only for a short while. In the meantime, it would serve him right to see what else he might delve his fingertips into. Power after all ... sought more power. (Sorry, have the flu, so my posts might suck!) **
Balian: Life seemed far more simple for a soldier. Where it was the Royals found there battles thick at mind, plotting, planning and manuevering the political whims of the Kingdom a soldier had naught else but to obey. Draw steel on command and stick the pointed end into the heart of the enemy. Balian had worn both hats in his time, where it was he was a weapon of Skye and a tool of the people as Lord Marshall of Turas Lan's heavy calvalry he to had a face of politics as an ambassador of the code of chivalry. The Pale cloaked Knight made his way through the castle halls. Icy blues piercing the dim light with the infamous shroud of white dancing in the wake of golden spurred heels. His shoulder and thigh tightly wrapped and bound in leather and bandages from his most recent encursion against the wolves. The black woven hilt of the nameless swod baring the crest of the White talon against the pommel protruded over his shoulder while the twin hilts of short swords hugged either hip. White leather chest plate custom to the matching tabard carried his nearly six and a half foot three hundred pound frame toward the gathering of souls debating the fate of many. His head would bow and all but the loose lock of wheat cause to drift over his cheek were tied back with a bandana. He would say nothing, ever the disciplined one would observe and listen until he was called on for more. Whatever that may have been. [d]
Aislin: Aislin had entered not long after, aquiring where the Duchess was. It was no secret where her husband was, more ten likely on the battle field already. Keiran rested against Aislin's shoulder with his face looking over it as she walked down the hallway after the servant who lead her to where Bess was. The tall woman with a rounding stomach was not hard to miss even among the men of he court and ladies in waiting. Keiran was silent, simply watching as the world moved by while Aislin moved at her normal pace, sending boots to the floor as the skirts of her teal and brown dress fluttered about her legs and her long braid swayed back and forth behind her, reaching to the back of her knees. She was silent as she slipped among the people, listening to what Bess was saying. Could they move to Eohmark? Last time, Eamonn said the roads were better not traveled, but that was more then a week before. Aislin took the moment to speak out. ``Ah have men here, Riders with me to help take any who wish to go to Eohmark for safety. It nay be much, about eight, but they are skilled men in the duty of guarding.`` A hand reached up to rub Kieran's back while the other supported his rear as he lay against her. Rufus:Rufus had been outside with his own men, leaving them to tend to themselves and the horses as he and his second in command entered the castle. He would not leave MacLeod without representation. He would shortly join among the men of the court, all who seemed to be watching the Duchess and waiting for her words. Eyes drifted to the lady healer as she spoke, before he looked behind him to see kendrew without representation. He would shortly join among the men of the court, all who seemed to be watching the Duchess and waiting for her words. Eyes drifted to the lady healer as she spoke, before he looked behind him to see kendrew and Brom. Turning his head to his second and then beyond to see sir Balian move through the doors, bow and wait patiently. Lucius was seen coming through the doors and like the others, Rufus and his men did not have time to wash theblood, guts and carnage off his kilt and tartan. ``Lady Duchess, what more will you have the clan of MacLeod do for your service?``
Liliana: To Eohmark. Strolling at the side of the Duchess, hands clasped at her waist demurely, Liliana found it easy to keep up with the woman's stride. The topic of discussion was the moving of the Aberdeen family and their court. Liliana did not truly want to leave the familiarity of the castle walls and yet understood the reasoning. She would go too and see that Kendrew's family was kept out of harm's way. Yet, was it safe to travel? A question on the minds of many indeed. (d)
Lucius: If ever the young squire had a reason to travel to the castle of the Griffin it was to see his master the Lord Kendrew. The two had been through much together, and while Kendrew often saw to the care and health of Bess' relativesthat had been trapped in the passages, Lucius set out to the task of seeing to his horse and with what coin he did have repairing what had been damaged. The brown cloak was pulled about his tall frame more as he stepped inside and out of the cold air from outside. Already the warmth of the castle could be felt as booted feet thudded softly against the stone floors of the castle. Even though Lucius had been here but a handful of times, he was still learning his way about the castle, and had it not been for the distant sound of voices just a bit beyond he might have been wandering about lost looking for Kendrew. Sure enough, he followed the sound of voices and came to the gathering of not only the Duchess herself, but those of her court and company. Such honourable people he was in the presence of, some he knew while others were but rumoured legends of the Duchess' keeping. Lucius dipped his chin reverently to all there, though when his dark eyes turned to the Duchess herself he bowed his head fully and even leaned a bit forward at the waist before rising and remaining silent while those about began to talk. To Eohmark? Was that where theDuchess would now be slipping off to? He hoped it was far away from Turas Lan and well fortified--though it was the stronghold of the Lord Marshal, so of course it would be. Still, Lucius heard the rumours of the streets, of the war and Maubrey's attempts to cut off the city. Times were not good indeed
Kendrew: "The court is stubborn," he muttered the obvious between the man on his right and to Balian, whom he had posistioned himself near. Looking to his wife at the side of the sovereign, he looked to the Marshall of Turas Lan, where he was the Lord Guardian. "What have ye seen, Balian. Dae ye think we can move them anywhere?" A few eyes cut hard in their direction. Shouldn't it be spoken up? The affairs of the court were being laid to bare bones. Hands clasped hard together, leather to leather. Lucius entered in as the fates of land, country, and lives were being weighed against all that was believed in. "Aye, there be Lucius...wonder what he has seen in the streets today.." Secrets had gotten him on the Griffon's ill boding side, though Adam had his own, it was his court keeping him from his own domain that was beginning to rub him raw. A man could not step on the ill side of him they served. The guards were being very particular with who was admitted towards the room. Call it sympathy, call it some begrudging remembrance that a spy was among them, and one of them. "Let Master Sorschal through now!" he commanded, and the way was parted ong his peers.
Prince Consort of Naples, Seithfed:He was perfectly ordinary except that, of late, he was anything but. As the Prince Consort of Naples, he found himself gaining far more attention than he ever had before in his life, even as the Duke's mysterious and fortunately unmarried marchese. He found, for the first time in his life, he did not much like the attention, nor dressing to the part, nor constantly keeping his frayed temper in check to suit the image. However, the time had come and gone to flee from the arrangement, and so he stepped up to the title without a backward glance. He tightened his belt, assured the regal cloth of his garments was as flawless as his new tailor required, and left the suite of rooms. His eyes remained open even as his entourage formed rank around him. He had once fought upon battlefields and in the far more subtle arenas of Italia; nothing was beyond suspicion, and he was not ready to rest at this juncture. He was not sure when that would be, precisely, but he was a creature of "Your Grace," he greeted Ferrara upon seeing the man's distinctive silvery head of hair. "You are looking well rested." The relaxation of his duties on behalf of Naples likely did not allow Ferrara an easy sleep at night, nor had they been a part of their initial arrangement, yet his voice betrayed nothing of his niece's demands, nor of Don Giovanni's cushy position suddenly involving some teeth. But what most impressed Seithfed now was the ability to forgo bowing to the madman. Though he was not prepared to bite, yet, the hand that fed him, neither was he to be subservient. To go from marchese to prince was astounding, and it was to his credit that he merely offered a humble smile, and a slight inclination of his head to indicate the duke's presence.
Rosalind: Rosalind had been very quiet of recent, but she was not one to excuse herself from court for any reason save dire illness. She appeared near Liliana and the Duchess, and though she was pale, the mask she wore had been in long use, and she was not about to remove it in so public a place. She, too, shared Liliana's fears, but maintained her silence until she heard what she needed to assure such a move was safe. Not knowing much yet of Skye save Turas Lan and the castle, she listened carefully, indeed. *
Balian: His attention had fallen against the former Mage, Alendral and the guards cutting him off from entrance. His brow would lift before he brought a closed fist to his heart and the deep tone of the Marshall would be heard. "Soldier, let him through. I say this man is friend.. We need all the friend we can these days, eh?" He would dip his chin toward Alendral respectfull to the man he owed his life to before his blues would drift back toward Kendrew with a nod in agreement. "Lord Kendrew." Balian had lay his thought to the matter at hand, a military mind a strategist of battle that had seen no defeat. "I think moving them now is what the enemy waits for... ..He makes his moves perfectly.. predicting our next and waiting for the pittfall to break." His own leather bound hands would clasp together beside his brother in arms Kendrew. "If it were my voice taken to vote my friend.. We stand and defend what is OUR home.. .. Ten men defending there home is stronger then any one hundred armed men." He tilt his head to spy the arrival of the young promising squire Lucius. Once more Balian would bow his head before he carried on his final thoughts on the question before them. "We should lay or focuss on defending the people.. I volunteer my life and my men to the task if the decision of the court is to move to the north." [d]
Rufus:: Rufus turned his head towards Kendrew as he spoke what was on everyone's mind, but no one wanted to question.
Aislin: ``Aye, ah heard the roads were filled with people waiting to ambush. The riders of Eohmark were ambushed among one of`Aye, ah heard the roads were filled with people waiting to ambush. The riders of Eohmark were ambushed among one of them.`` That did not mean Aislin was against or for them. She waited for others to aprt for her and moved closer to Bess and her ladies in waiting, looking to both Liliana and Rosalind, giving them a nod as asleep even with the many conversations and voices.
Rufus: Dark green eyes turned towards Balian as he spoke and then towards Kendrew when he asked for them to let Alendral through. Rufus had never met the man a day in his life, but there was always a first. To Balian, Rufus spoke. ``I still have men beyond tha walls and in other parts of tha lands. I am hear now, though. After wha we have been through, staying seems ta fit, but then there is risk ta be imprisioned in ye own land.``
Alphonse: All the muscle and might of a tiny island nation seemed to be gathering. And it was just as well with him that they did. In order to know which of the links was the weakest, one must inspect the entirety of the chain. There was the Lord Marshall, several generals and a few ... persons of interest that Alphonse would note, that held a certain air of secrecy that only spies and double dealing agents could possess. It clung to them like a woman's fragrant perfume. Enjoy it he did, but need to acknowledge it he did not. There was the certain matter of the Lady St. Laurence who still lived and breathed, but aside from that trival detail he was content with how things were going. What he did not enjoy was the fact that not only was the Duchess heading this event but that there were other women with children in attendance. It was beyond his mind to find anything of value in a woman's opinion while coddling a child at her breast. In fact he found it downright disgusting. Not so much so as the man who was now by law and title near to him by marriage and means. Head of the Fleet and Army his hind end, the man was becoming a nuisance when he had pledged he would be anything but. Still, there were ways to gain a man's fealty if not by choice than by force. Gray as his eyes were, they were cool like the polished steel of a carefully honed dagger and they zeroed in on Giovanni before drifting toward the crowd. "I always sleep well. What have I that might keep me awake save the wolves at the doors of this place." Keeping his lips from curling was a task he set to himself as he might when garroting a particularly errant servant. One must do as one must. Glancing askance at Giovanni, he grinned only slightly, enough to show that he still had teeth. "And you?" *
Alendral: He did not care for fate's sense of humor. Kendrew, without knowing it, had complicated Alen's life severely. But one couldn't down on a matter of expediancy, so he'd keep his backbiting to a minimum. The Spy offered Balian a nod., slipping past the two men without a word while passing a look to his errant guide to the Duchess, it would seem, his expression dipping into bafflement briefly before simply accepting it as part of the chaos, his tone uncharacteristically leaden with the gravity of the situation. "What in the bloody hell is going on here?" odd for a spy to be out of the loop, which distressed Alen all the more, though not unusual--spies operated in deep cover, often to the exclusion of other matters. To miss something of import while on the job was a territorial risk of the position. The very fact that so many high-ranked people were under one roof made it even more distressing. It meant the situation was more complex than even gave more credit for. Damn it! where was Claramae when he needed her!? "Take me to her at once. She must hear of what I have learned."
Kendrew: " At the behest o' the Lord Marshall o' the Court, the Duchess is tryin' tae see if it is possible tae move the entire court itself, tae be safe n' reign elsewhere daein' the war. Tis been mobilized only in the last several hours but it has drawn much rank n' ire just as much as it has drawn support." The Lord Guardian gave the Order's Black Spy Master a straight answer. The pair danced a dance in a sort of forced civility often for it was evident each complicated the others path on a direct course to the same people: Kendrew's eyes turned toward the Duchess, who had the baring of a Queen now. So many eyes! So many voices trying to find a place in this matter that it made him sick to his stomach. "Somewhat else?" The idea that he would let the dark haired man lead Alendral to the Duchess was akin to giving a child a small fortune and telling them not to stray from the path to purchase anything at the fair. It was ludacrist. "Come on then, Ah'll get ye closer. Wager we might talk along the way.." Turning an eye to Balian, he motioned for the man to begin his own forward progression if he sought. Lucius, too. Skye had a habit of growing enraged when answers went not her way. Tensions in the air went back and forth as people aregued for moving, against moving, then saying reports of their own lands. Should the relatives they have here remain at court or return home? "The passages. Some strange things came from them, n' it seems more yer area than mine..."
Beathag: "Please! Please settle! If ye wish tae take yer sons n' daughters ye may but be advised! Any movements along the roads will be watched by our men n' yours, n' theirs! Spring will nay wait, war is on us now sae we must think what is the best course of action.."
Noble:" Where is the Duke?"
Beathag: "Movin' men about the Isle itself, makin' ready for the campaigns...."
Noble:"You would do well to leave this to men! As it should be, as ye have been! Why suddenly are ye here, now? Everythin' to the East is in our domain..n' ye say it will be over-run? Yet was not your son taken from your own halls?"
Beathag:"The man who leads this campaigns knew m'halls because he was responsible for the deaths of the previous Lord and his family, but he knows not everythin'. The longer we wait the more we allow him to know! Now, the threat has been taken out from below but tha' has naught tae do with above..and let me make m'self clear." She .came to her full height, and descended the steps. The crowd parted as she came to view the Lord who spoke eye to eye. " This is mah reign. Ah stand on footin' with the Duke in his absence or in his presence. Forget it not."
Kendrew: Turning to Aislin, Kendrew muttered. "What have ye heard from the nobles near Eohmark lands, or any o' yer lands...look at them. The country is tryin' tae fracture again." (d)
Lucius: Brown eyes drifted to Rufus and he took in the state of the MacLeod Chieftain. A fight was evident on the very clothes he wore, but the man seemed to be the victor for he had his health and was standing before them now. Lips pressedtogether as he glanced from one man to the next, everyone with their own opinions on the matter and only seeming to try the Duchess' patience. Did they know that Turas Lan was slowly being smothered and becoming increasingly dangerous to the courts? Were they so blinded by the fact that stone walls could not protect them alone? Lucius frowned somewhat before his gaze shifted to Kendrew and with arms folded over his chest loosely he followed behind, silent still, until he neared the small gathering. ``I suppose it is good I am not a man of politics..this is madness...`` He mumbled to himself before eyes snapped to the Duchess. ``If I may, your Ladyship..`` He began, and it would not be until she gave him permission to speak that Lucius would glance to Kendrew, as if silently asking for approval, before turning back to the Duchess. ``I have heard rumours in the streets about routes and roads being watched...some have even had their merchandise stolen by the enemy without compensation. However..they are less than likely to turn them back...simply take what uesful things they might have. If your Highness wishes to travel north perhaps it would be best to travel in small bands and in...less than stately attire.`` Perhaps if they could blend with that of simple merchants those that watched the roads would be less inclined to care about the band of beggers moving than an escorted company with the Griffin's banner. The less attention to the royal family and court the better. How else did assassins and spies move about?
Seithfed: "Oh, well enough, understandably." He was a man newly wed, and his grin merely proved how well the status suited him. He sobered for a moment, though there was not a bone in his body that suspected Ferrara might take offense. "These are trying times indeed, though I would exercise caution at this moment, I can see how another would be quick to take sides -- passivity for Naples, for we have enough to defend, and support for what might prove to be a great friend to us in the future. What would Your Grace suggest?" Not that Seithfed hadn't already determined where his loyalties were, he had some residual respect for the Duke of Ferrara, at least enough to give credance to the man's opinions. He would listen, but make his own judgments, for his first concern was not with politics or battles at all, but keeping himself and his young bride alive. "There is chaos in this court today," he observed quietly. "More than a buzz among the servants, and outright shouting from the lords. Will you go to safety then?" There wasn't a chance he was about to enter into dialogue with the Scottish lords. There was safety in that he was a member of a guest court. *
Liliana: When Kendrew looked at Liliana, so she looked at him, feeling those eyes upon her. It was not hard for those who had been around the castle to notice that Liliana was different, but only those truly close knew the why. Yet during this, there was none of that. Liliana stood calm, face void of sorrow, looking strong and lovely. She could not afford to be anything other than steady. Kendrew would not go off worrying about her nor his family, and that was that. Chocolate eyes took in the face of each person gathering, mind filing away each word to hit her ears, and yet it was those that stated to leave this to men that had her jaw tightening. She wanted to yell at them, ask them why DreamsOfWriting: a woman could not handle such matters, but said naught. Bess was brave and wise, and had fought for Skye too, and they insulted her by such...words. Fools. (d) Balian Windsor: His blues drift toward Rufus with a soundless nod. The more men about loyal to Skye the better and it did him well to know it. He would nod, listening to the Lord Guardian while he did follow in stride beside them to Balian: near and find audience of their Sovereign. "I will follow any order given until my last breath Lord Kendrew. " If the Command was given to move, he would see it though whether he liked it or not was not his place. When they neared the Duchess the outspoken voices of crude tongues soon found the White Knights narrowed blues seeking them out. Leave it to men is it? When she started here decent of the steps Balian's left gloved hand reached back to coil thick fingers around the hilt of the nameless sword crested with the white talon while he trudged up to stand just over her left shoulder. Drawing the cold steel from its sheath and aiming the tip to the ground between either of his boots while the pale cloak battled to find his heels. It wasn't hostility or a threatening action but a statement all its own. Unity of a Kingdom, loyalty and honor of franchise amongsts its people and sovereign would not be devided based on sex. Bess was far from made of glass, a warrior herself he knew that much of and her bold move to stand before the mob and stand her ground may have been the very reason Balian held her in such high honors. [d]
Ana deCervillion: What was this? Removing the court from one place to another amidst the first inklings of war? If only he could have kept his face straight at the remarkable stroke of luck that such an event might give him. Were it possible he could remove both his niece and the recently anointed Prince Consort in one fell swoop of the sword, leaving his own son to inherit all of Naples lawfully. Folding his arms crosswise over his chest, the tip of index finger from his left hand lingered over his mouth, tapping there while he let his mind sink into his thoughts. "With the Pope still in residence they risk much to move so many." Said like an after thought, the Duke ofFerrara was busily looking for the ramifications that the loss of the Pope might incurr. It might do well to his advantage, or against it. Surmising that it would indeed be mostly again, he levelled Giovanni with a dark look. "The men we have brought here will stand with the guard here. With the Queen and the Pope endangered, we all could stand with shedding a little blood and skin, don't you agree?" He would have to, otherwise he might be considered a traitor or coward. As the Duchess' voice rose over the din, his eyes narrowed once more and it was with derision. A woman reigning? Not anytime soon in Italy that was for a certain. Still, politics were politics. Snorting loudly, he positioned himself with hands behind his back. "It is not for me to abstain the advice asked for here, but would it not look strange for several groups of beggars or merchants to go about it? It is hard task to hide His Holiness, as Your Grace would know" He knew well exactly what Giovanni turned his thoughts and although he could well admire the man his ... stamina, he disliked the fact that he had taken so well to his niece. "Safety? Why, I am ever safe, Giovanni. No matter where I travel." Thus was the security of those who thought and were comfortable with the fact that they were well beyond the damnation of the
Alendral: Is he mad!? It can't be done now! Everything he learned suggested the danger of the tatic--hell, they knew damned well what his objection would be. They had spent the few months beating back at the spies in their midst, the idea of picking them up and moving them to a new location, away from defenses, was nigthmarish to the way the spies worked. The very implications behind it sent him reeling, which made Kendrew's comment all the more inflammatory. "Yes, lord. my area. But you stuck your damned nose anyway. All for a banner atop a pile of corpses. Did it even occur to you to send a blasted missive? Did you have any idea how much energy was wasted by your damned heroics!?"
Beathag: "You are right, Lord frim Italy.." Perhaps the court would gasp as the Duchess allowed what would have been declared the ranting of a man who had no business speaking. "Good Lucius, the problem with movin' in beggers clothes, an idea Ah agree with, is that we are responsible fer a great many people now. We are hosting more than one figurehead. Tis nay only m'life, but the life of the lady of Naples, His Holiness, the leader of the Christ child's faith itself. Our business has now turned grave. We must seek means by sea as well as by road, sae, Lucius, will ye seek these ways out for me, with your knight? N' then tell meh.."
Kendrew: Kendrew looked at his wife, proud, upright and brave. A woman of valor, a bible quotations of pearls and rubies with her name. His family was being cared for by Liliana. Mother, sister by marriage, niece and nephew. A life that he spoke nothing of. Many things no one knew of and here was Sorschal now telling him what was for? "Ah'm tryin' to work with ye. Ah'm tryin to make this work, Sorshcal, but this is my vocation. Mah life. I did wot I had to do tae protect this court nay less than you.." He snarled. "N' wot of your cloak n' dagger..now ye tell Beathag after a battle n' how many weeks? Ye are just as guilty as I, if ye have guilt. Just because your title gives ye right tae be silent does nay make it right or worse than anyone. Dun take on airs...boy." He snarled, glared before looking up to Beathag once more.
Caldean: "Is this how they spend their hours?" The unknown looked to Aislin, and then further toward the foreigner for you see the footing he had was slight. In a stone box, below ground, had been his destiny until the man unearthed him. Now he was in a host of many men and women. With Adam's eyes he looked upward to his sister before sighing. Bah. Hell! "She can nay hear herself think. Amazin' she has nay boxed their ears in yet." He had no intention of moving but the disenters welled up again.
Noble: "It's all backward! Look at who makes suggestions and who has somethin to gain! What say has an Italian in the matter, unless he knows his tartan colors all of a sudden?" Some began to laugh at this while they nodded, while another said, "Ye needn't look over the damned ocean." He pointed his finger at Liliana, at Rosalind. "Them, them right there! Campbell wife n' Campbell griper. Imagine the spoils they shall get when this is all over. Run us off our lands Ah say!""Dun forget that my friends! Any who took up their sides without qualm with this lot? What about Scotland..as it falls apart n' they pick it up. Who's to say we should be finding a way out n' hiding when we shouldn't be going to stand on this mans side? Or any side for tha' matter.."
Kendrew: Those names. His name. To hear the world Campbell uttered made him turn fast as the fingers began pointing at the women. Identities. It was obvious that for the right amount of gold the Judas' among them would betray. "Get up there n' tell her Sorschal so I can get infront o' all of ye." Yes, Alen had ended up on a terse side of him. But his duty came first before squabble...and it seemed the room was advancing forward. "Lucius." He nodded for the ladto come find good footing near as well..(d)
Balian: Icy blues drift across the bickering gathering, the Duchess, Alen and Kendrew before he spun the sword backward in his palm. "So it is this we come to?" His head tilt just a little while his eyes fell to the floor and a soft exhale parted his lips. "In our darkest hour our true light should shine.. ..We argue and bicker and to what resolve? Who will fight and who will run?" His brow lift while his chin lift once more. "Together we can stand or divided we will fall.. ....Cloak and dagger or a sword.. .. Noble or Peasant, what does it matter when the enemy is at that gates who we are?.. Find a time to put your differences and pride aside the lot of you.. Use the resources we have in each other .. ..Many of us have been in countless fights against multiple fronts in this campaign and yet I know first hand there are men that have yet to be dispatched and lay waiting.. getting fat and wanting a chance to serve. ...I speak no more of it then to say.. ..Call on me when you find a purpose for me." The sword was tossed against the nearest table while he bowed his head and made way for the doors. Bringing a closed fist to his heart in passing the guard. [d]
Giovanni: "Of course, my lord Ferrara. In Christ, the safety of your soul is assured for eternity." Perhaps not in heaven, but Seithfed was no priest. That way lay madness. "Yet it is the corporeal form that I am concerned with," Giovanni said dryly. He turned his attention then to the Duchess, and smiled at the idea of a woman reigning alongside her husband. It was a truly unique concept, and what was there to worry about? It seemed everyone might be satisfied with the arrangement. But then his attention was caught by Alendral's tirade, and Seithfed's brows slowly rose up to his forehead. He couldn't look to Ferrara for any clue as to what was happening, but it was very interesting to observe, all of it. Italy would reserve her judgments until there were clear solutions on the table or a call for his input. "Italia may protect her own, Your Grace," he responded, directing his thoughts aloud to the Duchess. "Our Navy and Army is, I am afraid, committed to protecting Rome in the absence of His Holiness, but we could remove the pontiff safely. Covertly, I imagine, would be difficult. However, I could not believe anyone laying clear threat to His Holiness. Such would be madness of a sort I could not hope to contend with. But, Your Grace, I would defer to you and we are responsible, our actions will greatly factor in yours." Surely, Alphonse could not disagree with protecting the Pope. While commitment to Skye was an issue he might balk at, he could not deny the safety of the papacy. And neither would these Scots, had they any sense. Unless they wished the wrath of all Christendom upon Skye, they would allow the Italians to extract the Pope before he was irreparably harmed, and Skye's chances with him.
Lucius: Fingers lightly touched his wrist where hidden fabric rested under the cuff of the tunic's sleeve, as if to draw a silent strength from it not to mention ground him and out of a newly formed habit. Unnoticable as his arms were still crossed. Dark eyes turned to the Duchess once more as she explained the complexity of the situation and inwardly he sighed. Well, if notable figures went in small bands at different times, it would be harder for them to catch all of them together. Caravans were dangerous, sea or by foot. ``All the same, your Grace..traveling in large numbers might be more dangerous than smaller bands..`` He comments, though when she asked if he would help find safe passage to the north, Lucius bowed his head respectfully. ``As your Grace commands, and with the highest honour..`` Was the squire's reply until the tension in Kendrew's voice was heard. Eyes shifted to his master and brows furrowed somewhat. Madnessin a court unlike he had ever scene. The urge to shake his head or roll his eyes rose, but Lucius knew better than to do such now and draw attention to him..well more attention. At the mention of his name, Lucius moved closerto Kendrew and touched his arm lightly. ``I will gather what I can to determine a safer passage for the court..perhaps even bring you a bottle of whiskey while I am at it..`` Lucius whispered to his knight before dipping his chin
Rosalind: Rosalind merely lifted her chin at the accusations. What did they know of her troubles? In her mind, she was secretly bashing skulls together. Fortunately, the imagined violence did not play on her face, and kept her entertained enough to listen to the responses. *
Anysense they deemed fit into a conversation beyond their 'ken' as the Scot's put it. Bowing slightly toward the dissidents if only to mock them, he smiled gravely while turning back toward the Duchess. "I spoke of course only out of common sense. That we have no tartan should not be an issue among allies, should it not?" Silvery brow arching, those equally light eyes glittered for a moment with dispassion. "I leave you to the company of the Prince Consort, Giovanni. He controls the naval presence we have brought." It behooved him not to sneer but he could not help to do so. Women in power were likely to ruin them all.**
Aislin: Aislin turned her ocean eyes towards Kendrew and shifted her stance, so she was speaking to him. Before she could get in a word, others started to speak up. She remained silent, listening to others ask each other what they thinkw as best. She wished Eamonn was here, but then again conversations like this would only make her husband's temper flare badly, so maybe it was for the better. Ocean eyes dartd about this way and that.
Beathag: "O'course ye speak of well good accord. Please, should it please ye come closer, men of Italia. Yer support of the Duke is well known n' we are glad tae have allies from anywhere 'pon the map.." To appease him would be to please him and to remember the views of a young woman who said that the way of the Duchess on Skye was the root of a uncured madness left to fester in her brain. Still, Adam relied heavily on the support of Naples, for did they not carry with them the rest of Italy? If the Pope was to declare them a nation in their own right, nothing could risk that. Even a heathen knew the importance of the Christ-Child's influence. "But others 'ave things to say. Won't ye stay then n' listen? Here m'inner most court..as the rest will draw tae a close this evenin .Please, make yer preperations, Nobles n' clansmen! Bring them tae me as they are prepared for here I will be.." Their dismissal was met with disdain as plethras of men came pouring from the great halls. Ah, but it seemed the major of Italy would also withdraw! Muttering to herself she sank into her chair, a hard look upon her face. "We're in grave danger." She said to them all, and it was not just of her. Rosalind. Liliana. Kendrew. Even Aislin. Balian. It seemed no difference to those that had lived through the reign so far, but now it was growing to a head."In these walls, outside of these walls. " Eyes met with Sorchal as he was obviously taken to the front. Their dischord? She'd seen it, but if he had somewhat to say? "Tell me something, Sorschal. Ah know you have a story for me." Her mind began to work broader. Lucius may find paths, but she may need to use them to shepard more than herselves, but her entire court throughout the island.(d)
AIendral: "You took the Church's deadliest assassins and scattered them to the winds, damn it. You knew what lurked in those tunnels and you barely saw fit to even inform me in your little scheme.. and don't you dare even question--" then several things would happen. First, Balian, apparently driven mad by the infighting, made a damn bit of sense--he had to admit he respected the man the more he met him, and cowed even his vile and venom, to a point, killing t was the words in his throat as the party began to see enemies in their midst at every turn. "... A better place for this, elsewhere, perhaps. "... he met Kendrew's gaze only briefly--there would have to be terms reached here, that was plain. Now given the floor, ushered to the front to speak with her directly, he fixed her with grave expression. "I am afraid you will regret those words. I bring news darkest. As you know I have been to work on this... matter of wild animals, unrest among the populace... among other things. It's path has led me to a... grave tiding. I've discovered..." He swallowed, not even sure if he wanted to mention it in public, seem the fool. "Something terrible. Church's hidden arm. All manners of the secret societies and deceit. Worse, yet... a legacy, Duchess. A legacy most terrible... all with their attentions turned here, I'm afraid. " He snapped his fingers suddenly, turned to Kendrew. "During the cleansing, did you see them? Cloaked men, armed in manners exotic?" he passed his eyes back to the Duchess. "... We are familiar with these men... their most terrible weapons. Hand-forged, of horrifying intellect, unspeakable cruelty. Their master was a named.." He hesitated at the mention of it, as if it took a force of will to even speak it. "Alexander Gottschalk. in my assessment, Duchess... no more an evil man has ever walked 'pon the Earth such as him."
Balian: Transparent once more, it wasn't everyday a Knight threw down his sword and went off on a banter directed at the gathering as a whole and broke his discipline. But who noticed? He shook his head and threw a gloved fist into the doors at the end of the hall. The cold winter wind pierced the thick armor cause for a chill to crawl up his skin while spurred heels chimed with each step nearing the piebald horse. He retook his mount while the guard's would salute one unknowingly their final toward the Lord Marshall of Turas Lan. Balian nodded to them with a faint smile before he took to the night. [d]
Alphonse Alphonse was quick to light out of the room, but such comings and goings were common to the madman. Giovanni, slightly more mentally balanced, approached the Duchess and offered a swift but courteous bow upon reaching : her presence. He did as she instructed, and listened to the voices of her court with great care. Naples must make the right decision, and Seithfed must learn restraint, even in the wake of the news regarding the wild animals, and as d'Ercole had suggested, involvement with the Church. The learning curve for the Prince Consort of Naples was sharp, but not insurmountable. So he liked to believe. *
Beathag: "Sae ye bring to me news of a man Ah've ne'er head of in m'life, n' he has somethin' to do with this as much as any we'e known before?" Alexander Gottschalk. No doubt a name to be as reviled as William Maubrey. "Though we must take care o' wot is said given who is here, n' what is at stake. The long arm o' the Christ- Child's place? I am gaein tae ask wot ye've uncovered n' dread it near as much as anythin' Kendrew has said of late." Truly, to put them side by side, might be in different clothes but the Guardian and the Master Spy were naught but different sorts of bloodhound on the same trail. "Make it sae e'eryone understands most plainly." Alphonse had come to sit in on a fascinating tit-a-tat. No court in Skye was ever boring, this was for certain. The black at her ankles shifted to reveal the golden underskirts. In frustration, the child within kicked, demanding mother's touch for comfort.
Kendrew: "Another time, Sorschal." Alendral had knowledge of an enemy. Kendrew had their hiding places. Alendral knew what they would do, and Kendrew knew where they had been. Each of them took different cases yet each was heading in the same circle. Ironically, it would be that one would hope enough to melt a very real disdain the pair had between them. Listening to him, he took a place instead that was at once beside Beathag, the Prince Consort of Naples, and the women near her side. The MacLeods,too, had been given leave to stay, along with the representative of another family. Liliana could see evidence of Kendrew's brewding. Hard set lines on an impassive face. Were that the fields of battle were not on the same grounds they stood on now.(d)
Alendral: ."Only this. to those that ply the craft, few names evoke the kind of terror he did. He is infamous. He has slaughtered more than any can spare--has brought down countless Empires. He was the Church's best asset in the field... and then he went Rogue. It took... by the end. Thirty of us. Thirty men to find, to kill one. Twenty eight of us died to do it. " He would not mention who the two were, though the implication, at least in part, was obvious. "The man ultimately died, but his legacy lives. These are hand-picked by him. For cruelty... for brilliance. For sheer darkness. They are, put simply, the absolute best Spies employed anywhere. And I have already found two. Operating here--Duchess... you have to understand, for even one to operate in a place is to give it a death warrant, and I've seen at least two... so far! Kryptmann--a man as home at the field of battle as in our circles. He attempted to kill the Lord Windsor, once, twice, during the closing of the Tunnels. A keen understanding of a Warriors' mind, and the weaknesses to exploit them. Ulnor... who knows the hearts and desires and all men and women. a master manipulator--dead by my hand, but only by luck. And others, still, I suspect employed in some, strange way. D'estes, who's ability to infilitrate borders on the fanatical, who may spend years working in subtle arts, drawing so close to his targets that they would never see him coming! They are bringing their full force to bear. Duchess, to risk our leadership now would be suicide. There is no war coming. We are already besieged."
Alfonse: All right then, the learning curve was the size of the Himalayas. Giovanni removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead. Perhaps when the Pope made his escape, he would not be far behind with Ana-Catalina. He would have sworn, even under his breath, save for the notable presence of the ladies. *
Beathag: "So you mean, we fight two wars then." Beathag simplified it in but a sentence that made her draw in her breath and hold it. " Murders, soldiers, and thieves are gaein' to dismantle everythin' we have..or are tryin' to.." Fingers tapped together hard on the edge of her chair. "This must be made into a full report. Our Lord Marshall o' Turas Lan was nearly murdered n' why is it now tha' somethin' was said?" She sighed. "Master Sorschal, ye n' Sir Campbell suffer from the same malady these days. Ah realize ye work is fer the courts benefit n' ultimately fer mah benefit, but there are tae many secrets flittin' about fer mah liking so loud tha' the walls talk. " Eyes sealed shut. The Lady Griffin sat stone still.
Caldean: "How can Ah help?" Hearing too much and doing nothing didn't bode well with him. Anxious, he shifted from one booted foot to the other, leaning on his walking stick for support. "Can nay see you like this, Beatha.." He whispered given leave to stand near her for Kendrew did not bar his way. Just who was he, anyhow?(d)
Alendral: "With respect, Duchess. Lord Windsor's assassination wasn't reported on because news of a failed attack would prompt another attempt. He was put-off-balance by his survival, and his second attack was not nearly prepared, and so thrwated again. " Of course, he had a masterful way of rationalizing his behavior. Forcing a Spy to be anything but independent was a challenge for any leader--more so for a Spy who found himself an uncooperative liasion, and had disregarded him with the same hand. "I had a choice. Come running back to you and risk revealing my hand, as well as giving him advance warning 'lest he have some agents of his own in the Court and tracking him down. I nearly had him, were it not for... other events." he said with gritted teeth. "To transpire against me. There was also the matter of Wolves that stretched me thin, which, if it pleases the Duchess, is set to be dealt with, swiftly.
Beathag: "Ah pray it pleases his Lordship tha' in hearin these things he may make good due fer his own court," She spoke unto those that remained before turning an eye toward Alendral once more. "So it is then. Ye are repayin' your posistion doubly well, Master Sorschal. We will 'ave tae see tae it tha' like the other men of arms, for your battles...resources..are well shared. Ye must not be ill-equipped." For the first time that evening her eyes managed to connec twith Aislins. What did she think on this? Aislin was often curious and came forward with her questions easily enough, her blunt nature giving her no reason to bar back knowledge. Liliana had yawned, and with wan color on her face, Beathag gave her to the escort of Brom to see safely to her chambers for much needed rest. The flowers on their faces were dying, the lights in eyes going out. Eamonn spoke of her being the hope of the court, and this court giving men a reason to fight. So it would not bode well if they perished in the thick of it all. Turning to one who asked what he could do, she only smiled softly. What more could he do but mend? He would find a way, and that frightened her. "Master Sorschal..Ah need yer confidence tae nae reveal this." Leaning forward to him, she engaged in a covert act. "This is m'youngest brother, Caldean. He was found with nephew, Adair, in the caverns below. Ah can't risk him killed, I can't speak of our relation aloud." Her eyes almost beseeched him My family alive n' unborn are in peril. There are nay many of us left, and those tha' live like him to tell the tale of his demise are in a worse lot still..trust me enough to aid you, n' believe in this land enough to save them all. (d)
Alendral: Alendral flinched visibly as the plot grew that much more complex. It was another body to protect, and another possible threat to be exploited. The wound it would inflict is devasatating. "There is no need to ask, it is given freely. I will do what I can." He left it at that. His mind was already raging, a tempest beset by the fact of these Wolves. He passed Kendrew a subtle, scrutinizing glance once more before he stepped back again. "I am, as always, your instrument." He seemed to hover a moment before bowing and lowering, a sign of deep respect for the woman. There was hesitation before he explained the next part. "...The cause of the unrest amongst or people is a woman by the title of Malice. Sent by the Church to put the fear of god into its Townfolk... under the orders of a.. Former Inquisitor. Also deceased now. I know of her whereabouts. Of that, we should spare little concern. It's done." God, how much more he wanted to tell her. How he knew Gottschalk so well, the history that spawned her so-called instrument. His fears--the loss of Claramae. How I'm not ready for this. All hidden deftly behind keen mind. The spy as a pillar of strength--it was not without a note of irony.
Kendrew: "Master Sorschal, where is yer companion?" Kendrew peered in the room and found that where Sorschal had arrived, the well dressed killer had not arrived. Was it that this was not her native island, or this was not her affair? " Is she nay usually with ye?" Absent question devoid of the subject's content, he wondered what curtain the entire affair was draped behind. (d)[/font]
|
|
|
Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on Feb 3, 2009 14:29:58 GMT -6
Adam and ten of the Black Talons rode hard from town to town… ensuring that each way-station and supply garrison is well-manned and ready should war erupt sooner than expected. His frustration at all-time highs… he continued on… the events in the forests proved evident that Skye was threatened… and Maubrey was seeking destiny.
Little did he know what was occurring in Turas Lan. Little did he know what was evolving inside his own walled-city. Little did he know what decisions were being contemplated, nor the arguments of who shall gain and who shall lose in this war… Tension was high when he and Kendrew had words… and ordered Kendrew to no more secrets… but could he hold his friend liable? By all means, No !! Still events had unfolded and Kendrew, all the more experienced, decidedly ventured in his own accord. Adam knew Turas Lan held secrets… secrets centuries old… and even nearer the present, secrets that involved his family and Maubrey’s.
The horse stumbled, but Adam held on… shocking him back to reality… leaving his thoughts to be sidelined. To ease the guardians accompanying him, he flashed his eyes and nodded… “Ah bae awright… let us continue…” Soon his thoughts recaptured the mind’s processes… Intelligence reports were sparodic, but informative… Adam did not want rumor… he wanted facts… and facts is what he got. Should any rumors surfaced, instructions were to investigate. These orders were followed exactly… with no questions.
Maubrey had moved south… the reason why, was unknown… so Adam sent word to his contacts with the Borderers… More snow would slow them down… but to alleviate moving during a winter campaign, Adam had prepositioned portions of his army in areas of strategic importance yet out of the ordinary… hasty towns were set up… to keep families together in the worse of weather… but at a cost. Adam’s finances were thinning… and beginning to concern him. How could he keep constant and consistent military strength without depleting finances… especially during winter???
Bess had told him… he was much like his Father… and only a fine thin gray line separated the two… At what lengths would Adam sink? To what ends would he transpire to accomplish his goal?? Secrets !! Now he had secrets. Secrets, he would pray his family would nay find out!!!!
Maubrey’s forces moved within striking distance of Skye… Ships lay in port, ready to sail with full complements of war. Reports of Skye allies had been coming in… Maubrey was distracted… and no one could find him… so troops froze to death where they stood vigil for the impending war, that some would never fight… Scotland was already divided before the autumn winds… and by spring, they would be divided still; but England waned while Maubrey was unavailable. Still his commanders did what they were trained, and ordered to do… Close with to Skye’s borders… cut off her resupply, close her shipping lanes, make her fend for herself… look eye-to-eye with the enemy, but do not strike unless attacked…. Then kill all that pressed your position.
Maubrey had not once used his own wealth… yet he still managed to gain profit… England was financing his personal campaign against his son… and even in England’s waning support, the financing continued… William, on the other hand, was financing yet another endeavor… Gottschalks children were not cheap… but they were efficient.
|
|
|
Post by Queen Beathag Aberdeen on Feb 5, 2009 14:31:30 GMT -6
Beathag: The moon rose on a world rife with tension as thick as the mists curling over the sea. Like a stalking cat, the fog had went around buildings and people until, slinking up to the Cullin Mountains, it consumed all of Turas Lan in a blanket of iniquity. At the top of the lunar curve was the cat's back, arched. Claws became the trees that bent over in a sudden blast of cold wind. An anxious world did not go to sleep. Few people left their doors for the streets. Shadows slunk backwards of stone. A puddle was broken only by the odd step as pace quickened to go to the first open door, the first open light. Torches were muted in expanse by the rage of the winter weather as the world seemed poised to encounter the Devil's perfect storm. "N' the watch has said nothin' has come in the last hour, nor any." Beathag paced the floor of the Great Hall, her hands clasped behind her back as if she were a man. In a man's world, he oversaw the preperations of armories stocked, skilled men, and formations. In a man's world, her ripe belly should have confined her to a room but the woman was not one for needlepont, prayer, or weeping. "No, nothing." Nothing. An absence of action was the precursor to a fu llfillment of motive. With golden hair swaying undone, she decreed, "Double the watch 'pon the Western Side, n' the East. Look hard, tae the docks. " Her weapon was commandment, her spearhead? Preperations. The Lord Adam was doing the same. He took to the roads of the country to see that every village was prepared to host the Griffin Army, and that none would be caught so unawares that their place in the world was taken away. But for all of these things she still felt the emergence of something to come. (d)
Marcos: The Spaniard would be making his way to the Griffin Castle. There were several things that needed to be seen about there and others that needed to be known. Rumors, whispers, worried cries were the talk of most and it was nothing new for Marcos to hear or see. In all his years on both land and sea, there was always someone who thought they deserved what others already had. The man wish=2 0to also check in on his wife to be as well as his babies. In this time, they were his main concern along with the well being of those his ship helped to safe guard. With his usual boots and pants of black topped off with his white sailors shirt and a thick cloak due to the ever growing cold weather, he left Argento to the stables and moved inside. His dark eyes of deep brown searched several faces and form as he made his way down a few of the halls. <d
Kaori: Having just checked on her children to find them both well and, gratefully, asleep, Kaori rushed through the halls of Griffin Castle, the hem of her dress lifted just high enough to keep from stumbling. "Mind your skirts, Kaori," she whispered to herself as she rushed through the halls. Odd at such times the placement of her hem should be her concern, but there it was. Perhaps the worries of her mind were so great that she let something silly and trifling take over for just a little bit of time. For a few minutes walk she can at least pretend that her hem was the greatest concern she had. She was quick to find the Duchess after inquiring with a few of the castle's servants, Kaori eager to lend assistance if she could. A curtsey was dropped more out of habit than need before her friend of old. She looked around the room before fixing brown, almond-shaped eyes on the Duchess... On Bess. "Is there anything you would have me do for you?" she asked quietly, wishing the question didn't sound so bloody silly... (D)
Beathag: Seven months round should have inhibited that stride's length and stopped the amount of time she could stand, but it didn't. Somehow, the burden was nothing more than an extension of herself. Beathag had the strength to carry a dream too long differed. What she was at want for now? Unrivaled, unequvocal silence where the nothing was truly that. In her revolutions of the Great Hall, passing faces solidified. The Lady High Scholar and an old friend was but one of many faces she may have passed in the season but did not stop to speak with. Alas! Brogue, thick and unadulterated, came out on the edge of a tense sigh, "Tell the Ainglish tae burn n' Hell n' e'eryone wot will nay leave us beh, n' should they listen we will all sleep better this evenin'. Till then, yer company will serve well..tis nay much else wot can be done. But wait." Patience was a virtue the years changed. On one hand, she was the pinacle of that, as a royal, she had to re-learn what circumstance stripped down from her. At long last she found her high-backed chair and took to it, pressing fingers together as if waiting for them to clasp over something tangible.
Kendrew: The tangible hadn't come. Indeed, Kendrew wondered if this war would ever be more than the underbelly of Turas Lan laid up to be slit from navel to nose, for the weakness to be taken advantage of by underlings in the dark. As much as experience informed him that armies emassed and proof was evident, the stillness was sadistic. "Look tae tha' field, tae the back o' us. Our Lady is not satisfied nor will I be. To return n' remain with nothing puts her not at ease. There is no truth in it, nor is the Griffin so easily fooled." For once, he sat on the top of a bay stallion that had been the find of his squire, Lucius. A piece of the lad was always with him in that he found as faithful a steed as he, himself was faithful. Man had no baring on animals but he believed the judgement of the young man was sound in the selection of a beast that suited the Knight's temprament. There had been nothing from Sir Windsor to rouse his men. No word of the General, nor of Eohmark's great eye. The sea sat still in the wake of the Immram's sinking, and despite the arguments of the confused everyone was at a loss for more words on the depraved. He dismounted, turning the beast over to the care of the stable masters. When the door opened, eyes fell on him that wanted answeres so ardently they gazed through his armor. (d)
Marcos: Marcos continued to stride down the halls until one of the servants came to him and informed him of where his finance' was. That she had just been seen making her way down these very halls... skirts and all. Marcos had to smirk, but it faded as he made his way into the room where not only his Kaori was, but the Duchess herself. "Buenos Noches." He said in greeting as he moved further in. First to his beloved side and placing a kiss to her cheek and then to the Duchess. Taking her hand, bowing and placing a chaste kiss to the back of her hand. "Senora Duchess." He added as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, smiled and released her hand before stepping back. "I came for many reasons ... but there is something I am thinking that will help in the matter of Captain Flynn's ship." He said as his gazed shifted between Blond and her company. <d
Rosalind In the day since her husband's arrival, Rosalind had gracefully risen to the challenge she had built for herself. Specifically, addressing the surprise of complete strangers that she even had a husband. Though she felt brittle, she was far more adept than she gave herself credit for. She was far from the effusive, blushing bride, but neither did she level an icy stare and snub well-meaning busybodies. They were not looking for bruises. They were as enthralled by Fearghus's aura of sensibility and accomplishment. For while the world saw a man capable of restoring Lamont, and willing to shelve ancient clan hatred for the betterment of Skye, what Rosalind saw was not fit for polite conversation. She slowly made her way through the halls, looking for a familiar face among the Duchess's ladies, hoping her path would not cross with Fearghus's. She was diplomatic to her very core, but some edges were too raw to disguise. She paused at a window for breath and steadied her nerves by placing her hands upon the stone, drawing strength from one of the few things Fearghus Lamont was not capable of tearing down. Before she lingered too long and aroused any more unwanted questions, she hurried on, her distinctively uneven gait creating a rather musical echo down the corridors before she entered the room the Duchess was currently lapping. Her eyes next shifted to the Spanish captain, whom she hadn't seen in some time, but recalled quite vividly. "Good evening, Your Grace, Captain." *
Kaori: Kaori's shoulders had sagged with Beathag's words, but she was not crestfallen. Merely disappointed she could do nothing to ease a good friend's troubled heart. She had known before her arrival that there was little good she could provide, but had at least hoped to be given some sort of employment to feel useful. Well, if her company was welcome, that she would at least be able to provide. Her hands folded in front of her belly before a sight that did bring a smile to her lips finally entered the room. Her fiance's approach was a welcome source of comfort, as was the kiss she rose on tiptoe to accept to her cheek. Her brows had quirked when Marcos had mentioned his arrival included useful information, suddenly quite curious. As another newcomer entered, Kaori dipped a curtsey to her. She obviously knew Marcos due to the use of his title. Alas, things were a bit tense for introductions, but perhaps later she could find herself so fortunate. (d)
Beathag: Fortune favored the industitrious but for all the hard efforts The Griffin implimented, Maubrey was one dangerous, calculating step ahead of him. In her company now were good people, so it would do to ease enough to speak with to them. Take wot comfort is issued forth lest tis nay there when ye need it next. Her conscious told of times when people would be scattered to distant places with distinct cares of the common lot, with cares that had little to do with the sleeplessness of rulers or the harkening war. One day, it would be as distant as the past. One day. That day was still20entirely too far. Rosalind's emergence carried with it the hints of what Fearghus Lamont had left as his impression, Kaori carried with her a sense of wanting to be of a use so keen that it erased the sadness. Marcos offered aid to the situation of the Admiral's flagship, though it now was in pieces at the bottom of a tense harbor. All pieces of the day and age. All pieces of a puzzle that fit together to reveal a picture hard-pressed for a little gladness. "Goo' evenintide, Rosalind. N' tae ye, Captain. Wot have ye tae tell me? Pray, let it be somethin tae be done now. More waitin' will rile the skin from mah bones.." Vivid depiction was not spared. No, she did not engage in theatrics to emphasize a point, so much in that the euphamism was how she was. After a few moments of sitting, she rose to began the paces again.
Kendrew: Kendrew grew tired of his. A fire burned in his legs from riding and standing, his back was ram-rod stiff. A day's work transcended to two days where often it would be the third that saw him sleep. The way that Adam had left haunted him now as he felt the presence of the absent Duke in the corridors where his body was not. Both men had never been at odds before, nor had he cared much for the favoritism shown him until a rankor at knowing the most dark, intimate secrets of the reign was to know a side of the regent that he never wished revealed. In a room under constant watch, no one entered but the chosen. The past lay eerily preserved in a way that would never be forgotten. Warchanged men, and he was no stranger to it but to see the lifeless faces of forms that never turned to ash, that weathered the decades as they had been in life harrowed him. The Duke would never forgive him finding his mother when he did not know what happen. It would never forgive him seeing the face of Beathag's mother who should have been no more than dust on ancient winds. On the outskirts of the great hall he stood before the space between silence and the anxiousness of waiting was closed forever. A messenger was racing to catch up to his great, long steps (d)
Balian: The thunder of heavy heeled bootfalls herald his arrival. It had been but a couple days since Balian had last walked the halls of Griffin castle, though it seemed just yesterday the events unfolded. His chin would dip to the guards before the doors. Though the men wouldn't part to give the man normally adorned in all white entrance. The guard would simply stare at Balian blankly while holding his post. With a shift of his weight, the royal blue cape would sway at his golden spurred heels. "No hate for you brother.. but step aside before I take you apart." His left hand swept back throwing the fabric aside while his hands would ball into gloved fists. [d]
Liliana: The pacing of the Duchess, the feelings of her, were felt by all. Liliana hated the lack of news as well. It was enough to drive one completely out of their mind. Some would say that no news is good news. Though whoever came up with such a saying was clearly dropped on their head as a child. Watching Bess's pacing, chocolate eyes were sympathetic as she murmured softly,"Your Grace...Bess...do not stress yourself. All will be well." She stated the words in hope of soothing her friend who did not need to be worrying when so heavy with child. A look was given to those who entered, lingering especially on Rosalind, for she had heard of the arrival though not had the chance to speak privately with her friend. (d)
Marcos: His eyes shifted to the new entries, greeting them with his flash of a smile and a nod. "Buenos noches Senorita Rosalind and you as well Senor Kendrew." He looked back to the Duchess then and nodded. "Si... news.. we did witness the explosion. Though.. I can not tell you who in particular... only... they were English. Me and mi crew.. we heard them... we did try to stop them... but it was of no use. For that.. I am sorry..." He said as he lowered his gaze. It was a terrible loss for Skye and especially the Admiral... but his gaze lifted once more as others entered. He would nod to them both, keeping quite though as one seemed very upset and angry. If what he had heard was true, he would have been as well. No people should fight amonst themselves when they should be pulling together. Several of his men had been there that night and some had told him of the events. He looked back to the Duchess and he spoke once more as he continued to stay near his Kaori. "I wish we could have done more Senora Duchess.. but.. we were to late." <d
Rosalind: Perhaps it would not be politic to suggest the duchess take up a hobby to work out nervous energies. Perhaps stitching little flowers into linens was not Beathag's particular cup of tea, but the woman was making Rosalind restless just looking at her. "Ah, my lady, I am sorry -- I did not see you there." She inclined her head politely to the lady scholar. The time did not seem right for introductions, so she was glad when the Duchess spoke her name. Ah, war intervened in the st rangest ways, and conversational pleasantries were often the first to go. She wished she had an answer to Beathag's restlessness. She had a feeling it would be a remedy well recieved among most of the castle's residents. In another court, anxieties would have been drowned in wine and mead, battles forgotten in nights devoted to masques, plays, and musical entertainment. Rosalind, usually the most sober in any crowd, doubted any of those ideas would work now, when even she could not stomach the idea of sitting still for hours, much less at the side of her husband. She was not too lost in thought to miss the arrival of Liliana. She offered her friend a welcoming smile, and a slight shake of her head. They would talk later. There was much to catch up on. Her eyes darted elsewhere, to new arrivals, both greeted with polite nods. *
Kaori: Kaori made a habit of blending into the background as much as possible during times such as these. She hated wanting to be of use but unable to be. She wished she could find a way to contribute something useful. She was proud at least that her husband-to-be had information to share. People were filtering in quickly, and she was doing her best to attach faces to names. Despite the fact she had not been introduced to all of them, Kaori was a horribly (the hallmark of a good scholar, mayhap) and made people's identities her business. She quickly noted Lady Rosalind's name, another one to check of the list, curiosity sated for the moment. Her attention was suddenly snagged by Marcos, burdened by his inability to stop the ship's destruction. She felt he was taking too much responsibility by a plan that had obviously been expertly orchestrated and implemented. Stepping close to him, a comfortin g hand moved to his arm, though she remained quiet for the moment. Alas, she had nothing of import to contribute. (d)
Beathag: "Ye are right, Liliana." All the same, she had the ability to remain as still as the sea did. Constant movement. Constant flux was in some instance a hallmark of Beathag, but to quell the encroaching of sleepless hours, she had her journals to scribe down histories sent for, her music books, and the Irish lapharp that had been a gift of the Admiral. Music became her, for it was far too late and unorthodox a thing to shoot arrows so late in the dark nor was she of a mind to read. Charts would make her yearn for the elements denied. At the door, Balian was met with resistance. Seeing however the man's insistance to brawl, the tone was reconsidered in recognizing who they were speaking to. Balian had the clout, as did any man of the court, to make it so that he never stood at this nor any door again.
Kendrew: "The guard is sae good 'ere tha' it grows too good n' ye can nay get e'en in tae what ye defend." The greetings was a tossed out statement. On the last time they saw one another, parting terms had not been well. On the outskirts with one man already, he did not need another to cast to his conscience, not when he shared sword, oath, and a bit of himself with him. "Sae in passin' that door, I hope you are not too cross with one man inside of it." Little did he know that he was trying to mend the world just as the world was coming20crashing to them. He did a double take, seeing the messenger swallowing large gulps of air and nearly breathless. "Hold now! We can't let you beyond us or you won't get out a single word. What news man, what news?"
Messanger:: ( Messenger) His hands waved before falling to the tops of his thighs as he hunched over. Drawing air from the floor was the remedy, wasn't it? His eyes swam, dialated. The merits of his station conflicted with the want for his mind to unburden what it knew. "Murders..my lords! Murders!" He was put to lean against the wall, straighening himself. Hints of dried blood were smattered against his tunic. "MacDonald..n'...McSween. Argyll!" He shook his head hard.."In their castle...in their great hall sir. The Argyll's were taken unawares, the MacDonald's of the South, the chieftain, the tanist..his lady wife...the same in the north....they are dead! On the road the McSween's were laid bare and the black n' red of the Aosta bull was spotted! The standard..of Maubrey!" He hissed the last as he held his middle. The pain of running, riding, and speaking clenched his abdominals beyond compare.
Kendrew: "When, where!"
Messanger: "Not but in the last day, my lord, and some just this evening...my lord! I saw...among the Argyll's, some of the standard of Robertson. What means this, my lord?"
Kendrew: "It means tha' we have much tae do. Rest now. Go on." (d)
Balian: The guard standing down had Balian offering the soldier a nod before he would pass through exhaling an audible breath. Maybe he wanted the fight, for the guard to escalate it to blood. It wasn't as though he wanted to harm a brotheren of Skye it was simply the well disciplined knight had become an unexploded powder keg. Icy blues drift across the Great hall, taking each person into sight before his chin would dip in a formal greeeting to all. Then Lord Kendrew spoke and drew his attention off toward the man. "None worry of that Lord Kendrew." He took those few steps further into the room before the messenger arrived and brought more horrible news. Balians thick arms came to cross over his chest while his attention moved from the messenger to the Duchess. [d]
Jack: Earlier that day, a modest ceremony had taken place aboard the great carrack that was simply called The Ecthra. No pipes had hummed, no battle drum had beat out it's solemn tattoo. Indeed, to those not of naval stock, it would seem as though no ceremony had taken place at all. Only a few of The Ecthra's wardroom officers had b een present, as the Lord Admiral himself had boarded his vessel. He had carried only two pieces of cloth, two flags, to his ship. Of the two, only one flew now. It's field was a lusty blue color, emblazoned with a wolf - one of it's forelegs raised - standing beneath three yellow dots. Although that flag was the Irishman's coat of arms - conferred upon him by Mairi, the late Ceannfort of Ulster - it was not the flag that would come to define Skye's actions upon the waves. That flag was a simple flag, one not seen since before the Irishman had arrived at Orkney. That flag consisted of only a field the color of fresh spilled blood with the profile of a dog's skull, depicted with the blackest of cloth, as it's blazon. But such ceremonies were past, and such times that would see the bloody red flag were in the future. Here, in the present, the Irishman went to join the othe rs. He arrived only in time to hear the news of the messenger. (d)
Liliana: Liliana was one to worry over the health of friends, especially one in Bess's condition, and she was doing her best to be a pillar of comfort for her right now. Smiling softly, she glanced to Rosalind and gave a nod though did not further pursue things. They would talk soon. Other matters took precedence right now. Chocolate eyes searched for sight of her husband, briefly taking into account the arrival of the other men, and the presence of the Lady High Scholar. (d)
Marcos: The Spaniard would keep his gaze fixed on the Duchess for a short time, at least until another would make less than a quiet entry and all with good reason it seemed. A glance to Kaori was made and then to where her hand came to curl under his arm and he lifted his eyes to her briefly to give a warm smile before his own hand came to overlap hers with a light pat. He then looked to the others and as the news was relayed... he sighed. When the Admiral came to enter, Marcos gave the man a respectful nod. There wasn't much a man could do for another Captain but grive with him on the loss of what most men of the sea called home... their ship. This man was ready to do what he could, no matter how little or large the job, he'd take to doing it will just the same amount of pride as any Knight in the battlefield would or even that of a Squire. Ones duties was never to be thought of anything less than honorable. <d
Rosalind: If tanists were dying, it was not too much to hope that Fearghus somehow met his end, was it? She forced her expression to remain neutral as she listened to the messenger, and when her husband's name was not mentioned among the dead, merely felt betrayed at her own pettiness. She folded her hands behind her back, not allowing anyone to see how sh e worried at her fingers before lacing them together. What did these deaths mean? Were these clans the sorts that would fall apart without their tanists? Or, like the famous clans of MacGregor and the north, would a new leader rise? She looked to Bess and then back to the messenger. Whatever the answer, the news was terrible indeed. *
Kaori: Though Kaori had moved to take a comforting position beside her fiance, and though it was not something many people had ever beheld, the look of revulsion that crossed Kaori's face as soon as Maubrey's treacherous bastard's name was mentioned was a difficult one to forget. Every muscle in her body seemed to tense and blood rushed into her face, making it appear red. Kaori's hatred of the man was very personal, and to hear that he was successfully c ausing her homeland further anguish made her so angry she was almost ready to join the men at arms against he and his forces. Her eyes closed, however, and she quite clearly saw her children's faces. She took a calming breath and looked up to meet Marcos' eyes. He'd know quite well why she had tensed like that, and he'd likewise know the thoughts in her head. Not wanting to see the silent denial he'd certainly give to her wish to join a battle and exact some physical revenge, she quickly looked down. They say living well was the best revenge, and while it didn't feel as good as slicing the man open, she did indeed intend to live. (d)
Beathag: "O'course the son' o' a bytch would nay send a formal declaration on paper....I told them nay to leave!" She thundered without striking hard or lifting volume. To know her kin was to know when the lines on her face drew down hard hard was the intense displeasure not only of one situation but of the many that led to it. Eamonn wore the same face, and it would be another who in time would come to be revealed with the expression etched on his skin for many years now. Rising upward, the ramifications became evident. "Our hardest supporters, e'en those who care little for us, obliterated in an eve. Tha' is as good a declaration of war as e'er would be needed." In the wood of the chair, a dirk was lodged. From whence it came was no place obvious, but where it remained was keen as it dug hard in the wood. The restraint of a ruler subsided for the anger experienced by the same at so hideous a thing that festered on her soil. Turning to Balian, she reached to a table that had been placed on the side of her. "There was no chance tae give ye yer standard, Marshall, when last ye were here. M'hope is ye ne'er leave m'halls again without feelin' honored." Looking to Marcos and Flynn, "The sea can nay be far behind....make on the ready. I would nay assume he is nay bold 'nough tae strike the waters itself, but if he is..give him full ire. Ready at least two ships, two, tha' can make headway to different ports. I can nay risk the killin' o' the rest of this country's court. What remains in the countrysides in castles need be hidden on other islands.."
Kendrew: At the rising of the Duchess and the issuing of her voice, his body lowered so that the head of the mountain bowed to the face of the North Wind's blast. Each man was being charged with tasks, given instruction, things to consider. But his own began the journey to a place where in stood with him the likes of R osalind and his wife, Liliana, their family. No names like what they wore were said. No names of Campbell or Lamont, not yet. The danger they were in became palpable at that moment because he was bound to Lamont for better or worse, in vendetta or alliance. He could no more change his blood than a horse became a dog, and if tanists were what they sought...a tanist is what he had become. It mattered not how outright it was stated. The Campbells were split, and somehow he knew that the disagreeable lot had sided with Maubrey. MacKinnon, too, had not been mentioned. Nor MacLeod, but the procession was underway. "Do what ye must, as ye all must. Kendrew, mah husband is on those roads. Our city stands on the vera brink." Lifting his eyes, he put a gloved hand out to touch her forearm. "No man here will fail you. I'll summon what remainin' Black Outwirders of his Grace's Ah have n' send them forth to follow his footsteps and warn him of all that befalls here. " He respected each man a great deal and wondered if they felt as he did. The field of battlewas one thing, but Maubrey would rue the day he ever set foot upon their proverbial front door. His eyes to his wife glanced, to Rosalind. "Keep the household 'ere..do nay go into the streets. What e'er words the men pay you pay close heed to them." (d)
Aman-un-Din: It was never hard to distinguish the Arab from the rest of the inhabitants of Skye Isle, for no one here dressed quite like he did. Aman-ud-Din was a traditional man, and found himself set in his ways. Garbed in the darb robes and breeches of his people, the Arab pulled on the reins and Salah al Din came to a sharp halt. The Arabian stallion snorted and laid its ears back as dark eyes stared at the guard nearby. Effortlessly he dismounted and once grey booted feet were on the ground, the black cloak was pulled around his shoulders more. All that could be seen were the brown eyes and thick brows of the Arab as he peered through the slit in his turban and the cloth covering his face. The guard outside tried to stop him, but the tall Arab straightened, one hand resting on the long Arabian shamshir at his side. ``Alma'derah. Let me pass. There is but one man that dresses as I do on this isle. I am friend of the Duke and Duchess. Now is not a time to hinder my passing.`` The Arab said bluntly, eyes staring at the guard before the man finally shifted a bit to the side. Aman-ud-Din did not wait and slipped by him, the ends of his cloak whipping in the air as long legs moved to a brisk pace. Up the stairs, through the archway, and around the bend until he came to the Great Hall, and to his surprise, there were others present as well. Perhaps they too had tales to tell the Duchess. Dark eyes swept around the room and a curt nod was his greeting for the moment before he cont inued his pace toward Bess and bowed at the waist respectfully. ``Masaa el kheer, Lady Duchess. Forgive my sudden intrusion, but there is news that cannot be delayed...perhaps news akin to the what your present company has already spoken of.`` He said, rising to his full height and glancing to the familiar faces
Balian: Balian watched the sovereign rise and begin to speak, nodding just once to her words before his own deep tone would be heard. "Aye your Grace." Even the strongest had their moments of fatigue they all knew. But if it was time to come together and make their stand, Balian would be at their side. "If I may.. speak on it... ..The best way to stop a foreign enemy from moving his armies forward is to break their supply line. .. Take their water.. Stop them cold. " He tilt his head a little. "I dont want to sit back with the Riders any longer while Mauberry takes another strategic strike=2 0against us." He wanted blood, a chance to strike back no matter how small of an impact tomorrow the enemy would know there was some fight in Turas Lan yet even if it meant his own sacrifice at least he would die fighting. "And..it wasn't a question of honor.. It was a question of standing together in our most difficult time... But I am honored by the standard.. Thank you." He bowed his head once more. [d]
Jack: Having seen the respect acknowledgement from Marco, the Irishman arched an eyebrow. Then the Irishman's brow smoothed, as he inclined his head toward his fellow captain. Then he turned his eyes back to Bess, to the Duchess, "As ye say, m'Duchess." (d)
Marcos: Marcos would indeed see and feel the tension from20Kaori at the mentioning of Maubrey's name. She wasn't the only one though as he hated the man with every drop of blood in him. Not only had he come against his country, but to frame his fiance' for something like he had... oh.. it was on. Its was p ersonal from the get go when he was informed that Kaori would have to distract Maubrey. Well, she had her part in this just as much as he did, but that didn't
Liliana: Such talk was enough to make Liliana's stomach knot. Outwardly though she was the vision of calm. Except for those chocolate eyes that locked with her husband's own gaze. Would they leave now? Would he go with them? That all of itwas to occur so fast, so soon, frightened her more than anything. Was Skye truly prepared for this? Liliana wanted to go to Kendrew's side, to be held by him, but instead stayed by Bess's and Rosalind's. Now was not the time for missish behavior. (d)
Marcos: mean he had to like it. The Spanaird would continued to hold the hand of his Lady, one way that was able to keep this Captain from jumping ship to say. If things had got worse for Kaori... there's no telling what this man would have done to get to Maubrey. Though as his temper easily soared, so did it lower.. some. He let his eyes move from Kaori and then to all others. A nod was given to the newly entered after he nodded to the Duchess. Letting her know he was more than ready. Already his ship was being primed for what was coming. <d
Kaori: At first Kaori had wondered just why Marcos would have been addressed by Bess? Unless he meant to... but no. Not now! Not now that... Now that... Her breasts started to rise and fall with panicked breaths, the red-faced anger quickly dissolved into pale-faced fear as the color drained away as quickly as it had arrived. As if they were the only ones in the room Kay reeled on her fiance. Some part of her must have realized they were not alone, however,
Rosalind: "MacGregor, MacPherson, and Fraser would be amenable to an alliance with Lamont and Campbell," she mused aloud. "Touchcowie is resistant to joining the battle, but he is a Fraser. I have never known one to shy from a battle. Skye is not at a loss for allies, nor cohesion among her troops." Not to mention, Fearghus was presently doing the Duke's work by forming an army of every fighting-aged Lamont lad, but not, as most suspected, to fight their ancient enemy. With Inveryne firmly in Lamont's possession, the old feud had settled for the moment, and this army was to fight for Skye. It was not her place to announce her suspicions of Fearghus's motives, but of subtle clan leanings, she knew from personal experience in the Bruce's court. At Kendrew's final words, she gave a quick nod. "But of course." She pressed her lips into a straight line. The wisdom she had offered Skye upon her arrival was soon to come into play. For once, it was information that would not conflict with Lamont's plans, and she would be working in tandem with her husband. If she hoped he fell in battle, it would not be through any intrigues on her part. Sadly. "I do not know what might be done to sway MacPherson, but I have friends among the Frasers, and," but a fraction of a pause, as hazel eyes fixed upon an invisible point three feet above the floor before her, "my husband among the MacGregors. There is an old alliance among our neighbors, and I believe they would fight, even if they, too, must share the field with the Campbells." She quirked a smile at Kendrew. "Mind you a few more allies of Lamont? I suspect that they will play nice. Being Scots, they may join in, invited or not. I would rather have them fight on our side, non?" She knew enough of wartime strategy to contribute further, but such knowledge was hardly common among women. But listening to Balian, it would be quit possible to use these allies to ruin Maubrey's supplies. Minimal losses for maximum gain. *
Scholar Kaori: yet! What if you..." She was unable to say that, though. "The children! What about them? What about- What about me?" The question was selfish, but needed to be asked. She looked toward Bess as if she'd retract her words. Scholar Kaori: She knew! She had lived in the same land as Kaori when she had learned that she had become a widow, her belly full with child. And now to send Marcos away, too? She suddenly couldn't breathe, feeling claustrophobic in a room with Scholar Kaori: so many. She backed away a few steps and then spun on her heal and rushed from the room, forbidding a single tear to be shed until she was by herself. (d)
Kendrew: "Liliana....." A voice traveled the distance between one end of space and the other, an end where he waited to have her touch be more than any banner's sign could ever be. Purpose was solidified in her, and too many times he had gone away while she stood brave in the wake of her own desires. Sighing heavily, time was short, but on this he could hold. Kaori's rush from the room brought with it a sense of knowing Liliana had already been to where the woman had gone. Unknowing of her past, history could still be shared.
Beathag: She watched her friend succumb to the past. Fears gripped at her, questions flung in the air that any w oman had in her mind when the man she loved was sent away before her. No heart was so hard that it didn't beat with compassion.Was her own husband not among the men riding in the open? The risk was shared, and it would be as a friend she would console Kaori so that as women all of them might sit together and be of comfort. But as a ruler, she could not retract an order to spare one over others. Lest she would have kept Balian for Jelenah, forbid Kendrew from risking himself, and any man who wed would never see the blade again. Her brother would never venture out, but nor would they be themselves, or men of honor, if they could not defend. "When you go. Take the men o' Maubrey, England, n' any other country or folk fool enough tae serve him. Fer killin' the families, those who were the leaders will be taken. They along with their men, will be executed on sight. There men will watch their leaders beh beheaded, cut n' quarters, their hands cut down, n' the contents stuffed boxes. The bodies o' their contingents are tae be burned. The leaders? Ah want them sent tae Glasgow, tae the heart o' his supposed empire. Ah want him tae see wot fate waits for him the moment he is found. Tha' will be the message. Any agent o' the griffin tha' bares arms has the right tae enact this death. If ye catch any alive tha' will have enough merits tae be kept alive fer information? Ye are gaein tae give them to the Black Order n' the information will be extracted before their vile tongues are torn out n' sent tae also tae Maubrey. i will send his rats back tae him in p pieces. N' ye tell him, when ye send those boxes..tha' the day he comes tae Skye is the day m'axe comes off tha' wall n' it is given tae m'brothers n' m'husband because he will die. All of them will die. Ah have nay mercy n' will give no enemy quarter, n' if ye find traitors in our midst? Dispatch with them because they will rue the day they see me. M'Lord Balian, ye are a Marshall sae ride as ye see fit n' dae yer bidding and mine to the fullest."M'Lord Advisor, I trust ye story will prove nay better than m'edicts but I trust somewhere twixt we will make fine company fer one another. Perhaps ye will be better at this than Ah be. Ah'm sorely out o' practice. Rearin' children 'as kept me from the forefront." (d)
Balian: He nodded just once to Rosalind at mention of the possible allies willing to help, When did the scotts not want to pick a fight? Then when the Duchess began to speak Balian hadnt so muched as batted an eye lash. Icy blues stayed on his sovereign while she spoke and once she had finished he would nod just once before he grinned. Feeling the leash come off the Lions neck lifted a very big wei ght from his shoulders. Politics were finally set aside and the sword would be risen to raise justice the only way that mattered between Gods and Mortals. "As you Command your Grace." Now it was time, the war was going to be brought back to the Bull. "I shall ready my Riders.." He bowed his head once more toward her before he turned and started for the doors. Lifting his hand to wave toward the others before passing the guards and finding the shroud of night. [d]
Liliana: Heartbreaking. That was the only word that came to mind at Kaori's reaction. Liliana did not personally know the woman and still her heart squeezed for the pain that was to be faced. Lowering her own gaze, filling the tears thatpooled in them, she took a deep breath to try and remain calm. Finally, not caring one whit for propriety, damn it to hell, she moved to Kendrew's side and threw her arms around him. "You come home to me. Do not die on me, Kendrew& nbsp;Campbell. I will make you regret it if you do..." The words were whispered with a loving fierceness. Liliana would not lose him. (d)
Marcos: Immediately his gaze turned back to his beleloved as she began to anger and then panic. He sighed... realizing what this was causing her but as his Lady had come to realize, they were not the only ones. Indeed, he like so many wouldbe leaving behind a love, children, and a home. All in the name to keep them. He wanted to give chance right away, but he needed to hear what his Grace shared. Once she was done, he had a somewhat smirk... enjoying everything she spoke on because everything she wished.. Marcos was going to do his damnest to see it come to pass. "Si Senora Duchess... mi pleasure... but.. if you will, I must go and see to mi amor. Excuse me." He said as he closed the distance between himself and to whom he had pledged his alligence to. Again, a chaste kiss was placed upon the bac k of her hand as he bowed, he released it, stepped back and then straigtened. "Buenos noches.." He spoke before a nod was given to all others that remained. It was then with a ahnd on his rapier he moved quickly from the room to the halls in search of his Kaori. He would see to her, knowing she felt as if history was repeating itself. <d
Kendrew: Kendrew felt the tight, clenched hands of his wife willing away any threat from him. Soft lips as rose-petals formed to flesh demanded his return with the same fierceness his sovereign willed for the hand of the Griffin to make a cry rise out of Glasglow at the returned feirocious strike to Maubrey. His hands were the instrument of his craft. What had been the end of so many men were no more than the rain of the season yearned for that made things grow. Copper skin of his=2 0ever-bride was tilled with the touch of man to woman, husband to wife. He pulled her in to his body and for a moment, forgot of war. He smelled her hair, felt her hands, and drowned in the ocean. "The Spring," he uttered the season, their promise, their hope. "Come the Spring. N' Ah will live for tha', n' more to come. Ever mine..ever thine. E'er ours." He sprung to a quick flash as he tilted up her chin and drew down to kiss her passtionate and consuming. For once, he cared nothing for what their duty decreed. He cared only that their sacrifice could be paid for with love instead of threats of demise. "The Spring,"he uttered against her mouth, before kissing it again. In time he would leave. In time, a wife would take this with her as a memory to last the hours (d)
|
|
|
Post by strongjustice on Feb 5, 2009 16:29:49 GMT -6
Brother Nigh Brother
The English King summoned the Knight… and before his liege, he knelt. “I am assigning you 30 knights, 500 soldiers, 200 archers… Sir James, it is imperative you move to Skye post haste. Lord Maubrey has troops stationed for winter at Skye’s doorstep. He requires an advance from the north. You shall take the regiment and move north thru Inverness, turning southwest toward Ft William… A pincher tactic is what Lord Maubrey wants… stationed, rested, and ready for attack at spring thaw…”
James, his head bowed, his hand across his chest listens to his liege… “I am yers to command My King…” If one was to close his eyes and listen, he would swear a younger version of Lord William Maubrey was addressing the King… but his devious ambitions were identical to his Father’s.
The words between Knight and King were months ago… Now James commanded a force stationed on Skye’s doorstep. He himself, had taken upon his own to invade Skye on striker missions… Based on the Isle, he moves virtually unhindered.
The snow blew a pale flicker of the full moon’s light upon the fields. The black armour was almost invisible, when he came upon the group riding under the Black and Gold of the Griffin of Scotland. His men were rested and when James sounded the call-to-arms, his men met the force of fifteen with ease.
Adam rode upon the white stallion, his Gold Talons riding with him upon the road to a small village near Skye’s east coast… He had planned to make the seaport by daylight. But fate would deem otherwise…
The two small forces met each other, almost by surprise… and when the call-to-arms resounded, men would rush forth to engage the other… The clash of steel mixed with screams of pain as men fought and died, staining the snow red… once again baptizing Skye with blood of her brave, and those who would be considered by history as invaders.
It was early morn, the sun just cresting above the horizon when the battle seemed to be waning… The Talon riders, proud knights in their own rights, had stood their ground, met the enemy and was triumph. Adam and his opponent had met and exchanged their own clash of steel. James did not expect the fierce resistance the Lord of the Isles would offer and decidedly retreated to the hill. Adam stood upon the blood-stained snow, now a dull pink and looked to the riders who rode away.
Upon the snowcapped knoll, James smirked and pulled the string of the crossbow to the lock position. Turning in the saddle, he took aim and squeezed the trigger. The bolt took flight… Down in the shallows of the valley, Adam sheathed his sword… and looked up at the scream of one of his men recognizing the crossbow… Adam jumped and just as he did, the bolt struck his sword arm at the soft of his shoulder, knocking him down hard into the trampled snow. If he had not been alerted, nor jumped toward safety, the bolt would have caught his chest, slightly to the right… into the heart of Skye itself. Now his blood seeping into the ground adding to the blood spilled as part of Skye’s baptism. Immediately, the remaining Talons circled him providing a shield of human form and armour. James smirked and patted a man upon the back, handing him the crossbow… then riding off toward the east… disappearing behind the snowcapped ridge.
The Gold Talons, assigned the life and safety of the Lord of the Isles, feared they had failed. Looking down at their wounded Lord, his own sea-green eyes looking at them. “Tis awright men… nae baet a flesh wound…” he groaned as he tried to move… “Get mae home tae mae Bess…” One knight prepared a bandage from torn material of his coat, then looked to Lord Adam. “Milord… ah sha’ pull de bolt from yaer arm… prep’re thy self….” Adam nodded and groaned as the man grasp the bolt and pulled hard. As the bolt cleared his shoulder, the knight applied the bandage and pressed down… “Prepare a trellis …” Adam waved one good hand… “Belay th’t… Ah shall ride… see tae the others…” then it was his eyes that would argue with the men.
Within hours, the dead and wounded Talons were collected, set upon trellises, Adam riding gingerly in the saddle surrounded by his Talons rode back toward Turas Lan. “Ah’ll catch total hell when Ah get home…” he teased as he rode, trying to keep spirits up… reluctantly, the men laughed.
|
|
|
Post by Queen Beathag Aberdeen on Feb 5, 2009 21:47:39 GMT -6
"When ye know pain or joy and ye aren't nearby, I swear I hear ye, see ye, e'en feel ye. Is tha' strange to think Ahdam, tha' we are sae joined?"
"Nay, Bessie Eve. Tis nay. There is nothin' tha' can stop we tae it seems."
-Beathag and Adam, in a conversation at the beginning of their relationship.-
Women are curious creatures. They know when a lie is about by the smell, when there is an upset wind the wind turns. A baby can be heard crying miles away. Much the same, they can feel their lovers ache or thrill with little trouble. A better half will know the other side of it better most times than the self is known. So it was for Beathag and Adam, who knew one another in this way. Beathag knew when Adam couldn't sleep just by the way he breathed. She knew his step a league away, and nothing could detere her from knowing..
Though no one wants to know what she had come to find. Beathag need to seek a moment's respite for herself in a place where no one but she could speak. So much breath blew so much hot air, reported ill tidings that the city was clouded with a rank odor of upset and fear. What solace could a Duchess take? "M'lady, ye'll grow wan if you continue on so hard," One of the women of advanced age in the household looked her over. Certainly, the golden haired one was hale now, it there was no reason to make it any less. "His Lordship will not be wanting to return to a pale-faced mother to be, don't you agree?" The castle was quiet in the wake of the prior meeting days. The clansmen had gone home to die, the other nobles waited on bated breath. What could be done had been done, and while waiting was not her strong suit patience had been obtained.
She sighed, looking out to the windows where thick clouds were stuck together with an ice-rain waiting to fall. "Ah dae. Will ye tell any who ask after meh Ah've gone tae rest? Unless tis life or death, Ah dae nay want tae be bothered fer a time. It wasn't long after that in the East Wing the refrain of war echoed not from drums nor great speeches of men, but from the instrument that was the life's blood of the Celt's. A harp making music under the hands of a bard who's skill was as centuries old. In her hands, the voices of the gone sang out across the bell-like tones of the steel strings that sang for a thirst for freedom satiated only by the heroes the Gods could raise.
While she played, England tried to lay down a patriotic son. Adam was taken by a bolt to the snow. As the white bled, Beathag's hands played a song of a Hero that in his breath foretold the future of the world he might have left behind, were it not for the comerades that bid him live on. In the instant of his groan, her hand stuttered. Master's make no errors. Even miles away, his anguish was her feeling of omnious foreboading. Their child began to kick, to twist in a state of disquiet. Something is wrong with my father. Soothe me. Soothe me! She parted her lips to speak but found nothing came as a hand flew protective, instinctive, over her belly as she leaned forward. It was as if all the air flew out of her lungs to be replaced by fire for want of the same! The back of the harp kept her erect despite one knee touching the floor from the low stool. At long last something was wrenched from her mouth as she drew herself backwards so that she might inspire gravity to release her. From the doorway, a guard saw the Lady faulter, and the White Talon was quick to her side. "Your Grace! What ails you?!" The man wrapped his arm about her chest, pulling her upward while the touch one would give a babe was resting on her back. Drawing her close, Brom looked her over so that if she spoke it was proven true. Two other men had followed him, ready and waiting should their be a need. What she had need of was answers. "Ah want a messanger, from the roads. One is meant tae come from where Adam is, n' has nay. Somethin' is naught right n' it must be put tha' way! Find tha' messanger, n' send one tae shadow his steps. He does nay know wot has happened tae the others. He does nay know!" The men tried to comfort her as Brom was elected to do the bidding set forth. Of all, he was trained to know that when his sovereigns asked of him a task to do, it was not out of their emotion nor crazed ways that it came from, but a deep seated instinct few fathomed.
Comportment carried them to a new age. It was learned, however, and a great much still of what the Duchess knew came from instinct, and nothing was more powerful than the senses of a woman. The guards tried to help her, but as her strength recovered so did the length of her steps from the Solarium towards the halls. Past the tapestries, paintings, and stained glass art of her kindred. Past the Hall leading to the other end, to the Lord's Chambers where their life lay. Beyond the room of the children to the center hub of the castle. By then her hand had been taken if only to quell the need for her movement.
"M'Lady..please," the guard asked in soothing tones. He was quelling a force of nature, a tempest, and he knew it. He was talking to a storm with the heart of the country in its eye. Standing still, she simply stood at the front doors for no less than a half an hour. So stark, that only the flash of her throat signfied she was not some statue left there. A wife knows, a woman knows. In time the sixth sense was proven true as a messanger fell instantly to his knee to deliver the report of Lord Adam and his men being beseiged by English forces. His Lordship was shot in the soft flesh of the arm, but was making his way home, full astride his horse.
Still, it was cold and her husband had taken a bolt. Like her brother had, and had for an instant hung between worlds. For an instant, he could have! She shut her eyes and gave a nod, set to move again only by the news that she had awaited in determined patience. Forcefully the babe kicked, sending a shooting pain to her back, but it registered little on her face. In time, the child grew quiet again but it was the mother that continued to speak:
"As soon as he arrives inform me, Ah'll be waitin' in our chambers where ye will take 'im with haste. When he arrives, a report will be given but he will nay be burdened. He has been sae enough. He will mend, for he has much tae dae. Tell them this.Tell them?"
"As you wish, your Grace"
Brom had done well to his task, insisting the messanger go straight to the Duchess herself, and no one else to deliver the news. As for himself, he dispatched one of the veteran messangers in the Aberdeen service, a man who had lived through the wars of the reign, attempted assasinations, and slung arrows of misfortune. It was only the Duke who was seen in an ocean of his Talons, while the Duchess moved in a retinue of elected guardsmen of the White Talon, in the presence of her champion. Now, people in the streets watched as the men began to filter toward the castle in pairs and trios. Let it be known that their grouseclaw tipped pens seemed to glow if one looked at them, as the pins were removed to be put where view could not be seen. But, at the same time one could not mistake whom they were in the Order, for their tunics all had a sigil
A Griffin before the impression of a White Hound.
|
|
|
Post by King Adam Aberdeen I on Feb 8, 2009 13:23:47 GMT -6
The pain seared in his arm, the wound, fresh… the blood now dried a stained brown… Oh yes, the Lord of the Isles sat erect upon the white steed, the men of the Gold Talons wary of every movement, even branches blown by the wind… The enemy had been beaten back, save one lone bolt to cripple or kill the Gryphon… but none could do so… Was his life charmed? Or destined for a greater good?
The snow seemed to be extra bright as the sun glared off the whiteness, sending colors of the rainbow reflecting off the eyes of all men. Still the men rode south toward Turas Lan… Occasionally, Adam would peek inside the brown vest under the armour and look at a wound that looked worse than it really was. A Talon spoke… “How fare yaer wound Milord?” Adam smirked… “T’will take more’n a small bolt tae kill mae…” as he winks at Nathaniel…
With a sense of unexplainable feeling, Adam looked up at the white clouds flowing by… then looks to his trusted friend and fellow sword brother… “Nathaniel… ride forth tae the Capital… seek out mae wife and tell ‘er tae relinquish her fears…” Nathaniel looked at him awkward… for this was not the first time he had seen his Lord with an odd expression followed by an even odder command… Nathaniel chuckled… “She speaks tae yae again Milord?” Adam laughed… “Aye Nathaniel… she daes… and sae daes mae unborn child… Naew ride swift, let Milady knaew Ah bae fine… jest a scratch…”
“Aye milord…” Nathaniel nodded, crossing his chest and placing a fist at his heart… “Heyahhh…” he commanded and spurred his beast of war into as fast a run thru the snowladden roads… and as he rode, Nathaniel was astounded how a simple man… a mere man… could be connected with a woman… a simple woman… a mere woman… The thoughts of Greek Gods echoed across his mind… the scars upon Lord Adam’s body attested to the fact that he was experienced in war and had cheated death so many times… but for how long… that question always lingering…
Along the trail, Adam began to tell humorous stories of his adventures and of days in the infancy of his and His Lady’s relationship… of her strength, and her softness… His stories even echoed, teased, the truth of how he and his Bessie Eve was connected… how both of them seem to know all…all the time… “Tis gotta bae the Pagan wench in her…” he teased in conversation…
Adam simply worked the arm, careful not to tear open the scab that now formed…
|
|