Gods Gonna Trouble the Water.

[Lord General Maahes Asad-Aziem]

Waiting by the wayside, of an endless reverie; where all the things I run from are sure enough to find me. Would that love were something, than a false slavery, to a god I don't know, and to all things that tempt me. Then in the light of all reason, where the truth is empty; the alchemy of sin would be revealed waiting by the wayside, of an endless reverie. -Azam Ali

The Queen's Lion:
For each heart there was a drum, pounding under the flesh like the beats of a distant dance with native voices raised in praise to a faith he would never know. It was hard to watch them, souls burning like the fires they danced around, and Maahes would wonder what pity was taken upon their heart--his God was not merciful. Through the years the Egyptian Arab set on the hand of the Gaelic Queen, under the white hand of her rule, but never once had he studied her faith. She believed in the spirits in the trees, in old folk stories of a Green Man, and a Horned One. Yet, her husband was sound in his faith with the Christian God who was a constantly defeated by Allah. They danced in circles and rows, and to the beat of drums that were wild and free while he sat with his arms crossed watching with his patrol. Rumors of dark intent came with the small break in the cold weather, and old man winter was put on hold with his freezing of the pass. This was when their nation was weakest as all that surrounded the Isle. Winter was never forgiving. "Lord General, they are but common fools." His captain spoke with the furs pulled tightly about his shoulders, the chill in the wind near freezing. The flags of their station were at war with the sea, fighting the winds, and a constant symbol of the force that flew them. "You can not trust the gypsy." Dark amber eyes burned with the fires of his desert homelands, while the rest of him retained the heat of those thousand suns. However, even he would eventually have to bow to his enemy the winter, and thaw again come spring. "Inspect them all, should any show sign of the sickness, line their heads in the circles and in rows." With that he pressed from the troops, and would move on further down the shore. (d

The Shipwrecked Soul:
A reminder, ugly and gruesome, but one that was required to maintain the bitterness of thought and memory. Time seemed inevitable and lost with the relentless current of cold and merciless waves and wind. Angelic tendrils of slate raven scattered across the porcelain beauty as the frail, tall form sank within the depths of the moist sand. Dreams were not her's to have.. Instead all she felt was a black forsaken shard of loneliness.   Temperament that soured her soul and she grew to hate what had happened.. The faces of the crew would remain with her forever.. Frozen in time and nameless.    It has been said that at times.. The sea will spill back in the white cap waves there distant and longing call and present themselves in forms of sirens.. Was this to be the reason behind the fortune of her coming? Winter, though beautiful in creation as the snow clung onto the branches could also be the very death grave that consumed a soul.  She hard the beating drums of  voices from those near yet it somehow felt far and unreachable.  Her slender body laid upon the sand, as the waves continually crashed upon the length of her legs, raising her effortlessly higher upon the embankment. Then a voice came again, only this time it felt as though the herald of it's coming fell directly above her and with it she found the strength and wanton desire to raise her head.. Meak efforts of promising the oncomer that she was alive and should be handled as such.  When piercing emerald depths leveled upon the soldier he would find nothing other that defeat in her gaze.. Warn and non reflective.She clung to life by a mere thread.

The Queen's Lion:
The sea was a constant place of sorrow and despair for the Beast, who lived his life by the blade. To the world he was feared greatly, but respected greatly. General's of this land did not survive many wars, and in his career he was victor of his seventh. Yet watching now they whispered of how fingers hardly closed over the hilt of his blade, and of a shoulder that ached until even their Lord General would clean tears from his eyes. He had been a glorified man whose hair had once been the sigil of his homeland's traditions. Dark black hair browned by the sun had been wound in thick heavy dreads, to be cut away only when he knew true defeat. Through seven wars, and countless battles they almost touched his bottom of his spine. Now all that was left of the Lion's mane was hair that curled in the moisture of the sea air and danced over his the back of his shoulders in a careless manner--he had been defeated. The sea took his wife away, but in truth it brought her to life again. Still, he hated it so. Maahes was used to standing a good head taller then the rest, with shoulders that were wide, and a barrel chest. Yet, this was the only force of nature he felt so small standing against. The drums of the gypsy's dance came to an end, and they soon departed from the shore leaving only behind the smallest hint of another His captain was not far behind him, zeroing in upon the woman they feared of the sickness that took upon the rest. Their nation was at war with the underside once more, and the young Master Monroe's madness. It would be the hands of the captain that came first, touching of the cheek of the ship wrecked soul, and when Maahes made his way to the ruins he would almost want to laugh with a more sinister sound at how the sea would constantly be his enemy. "Is she alive?" Looking back to the woman he would listen as his captain gave a report and soon order her to be taken in once cleared of the illness. (d

The Shipwrecked Soul:
Her eyes were open when he came.. Bearing down as though straight into the chilled heart of a man war torn and lost. Even without even knowing him she sensed his uncertainty and yes vulnerability. It was the key component that connected all men and women together. As the General came and spoke her eyes briefly rolled.. Not in mocking effect but simply because she had no strength to do anything else.. Sickness?  What had this nation endured that theywould automatically attest her state to be a plague or some sort?  It struck a curious cord in her heart yet, as she fell under the mercy of the Captain's hold she draped her right arm over the man's shoulder and neck while her free hand lay slung over the center of her flat stomach.. Her clothing had been tattered and torn from the wreckage.  "I....I'm... Not.. S....Sick"  Chapped, ivory lips chattered almost in plea.. Good lord were they to kill her!  Light, innocent eyes almost grew horrified as she stared upon unfamiliar faces gathering around her.. Only to settle soundly upon the general himself. Yet her stare was blank and void of thought of questionnaire. She noticed his apparent with held laugh.. The soul cause for thin brows to pinch tightly together.

The Caring Captain:
"Shhhh, no one said yae where, lass. Ye can rest now." The brogue was apparent in the captain's voice as he held her tightly, "Poor thing is soaked, she may not bae sick now, but she will bae soon." It was hard for him to struggle off his cloak, but desperate hands tried their best until he felt the heavy weight of the General's hand touch his shoulder. Maahes would remove the furs that wrapped his shoulders, and crossed over his plate of arms. A deep crimson under lining and the furs of the winter wolves would keep her warm soon enough.

The Queen's Lion:
"See to it, she is tended to. The hospitals are full, take her to the arena, and I will not hear of tragedy. The Queen will not stand for it, and neither will I." He paid them well enough for money to finance whores, and as more and more started to filter in from the streets he was not about to make his own the victim of a lonely soldier's desire. The Arena was where the military was kept, a Roman style structure with a complex of puzzles beneath the ground, and housing for each soldier. His army was a mighty one, as war was as natural to him as breathing, and Maahes was bred for battle.

The Caring Captain:
The captain had kind eyes, and short brown hair that would have been red should the sun hit it right, "Aye lass, ya hear that? You're in good hands." Brushing back her hair he would move with her up the shoreline, leaving behind the General and the rest of their men. Where there was one survivor, often there were more. (d

The Shipwrecked Soul:
The voice of the Captain lulled her soul to comfort and, with a slow up lifting gaze upon him her eyes along granted the man rich gratitude. The man holding onto her was good and kind which eased away the fear she had only seconds prior.  The fur blanket slung onto her cold body instantly added to the coloration that gradually founded her visage and arms. It hurt to breath but, as the man fell into movement she slowly began to feel life return to her. She would indeed survive.  "Thank you..."  She whispered, nearly above a whisper.. "For saving my life" Head rolled inward while the right side of her face nuzzled against the edge of the man's breast plate. Yes, she was in good hands..This she would keep reminding herself of until she was back on her feet and able to logically think and react.  The arena?  Strange place of location yet she would not argue.. They seemed to care about her, at least for now.

[Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine]

II. In the Arena

Master Jean-Claude of Aquitaine:
From the sea she has come, Master..if only a moment of your time. They had called to him, somewhere in visions gray where his reality has faded from a bleak and horrid December. Adelaide's spirit still balanced between heaven and hell where the rest had come from an ever shifting dance between life and death. Her hand seemed so small in his, and her skin a whiter shade then his own--this scared him deeply, but his heart did turn for what seemed a moment too long from the reality of the world. When was the last time he had stepped outside? Living his life in the room that held her sick bed, Jean-Claude cared very little if they lived or died outside, but the staff was exhausted with all the fresh sickness spilling in through the cracks of now the Arena where the beds of the militia turned into deathbeds for the ill. His heart did break, but like the new dawn the Master Aquitaine would turn from the pleading Captain and make his way towards the streets of the capital city. His hair was raven black, and fell down past his shoulders in straight strands that often seemed the only thing alive on this man. For who so dare believe him anything else, but those of the streets now who watched as the Frenchman made his way into the Arena, "Show me the one from the sea, and I haven't much time." (d
  
Lady Raelin ONeill:
He stayed with her.. The Captain.  Nothing else in the entire world mattered more than those long hours shared with another.   She began to slowly consider the man her saving grace. Plunked from death's grip and now was the single cause and reason why she was alive to tell the fateful tale. Right hand haphazardly rested within the wide width of his palm while heavy lashes fluttered several times before at last opening and leveling brilliant  blues upward upon his face. No words spoken.. The chill and fever lifting with slow, laboring ease and yet she never even for a moment displayed signs of  discomfort or agony of complaint. Her face was that of a dove.. Innocent, and liberated from the burdens of hate or malice. The voices of the weak and the dyeing enveloped around her.. Never for a moment waffled out of thought of consciousness. It pained her to even consider other people's deaths.. Strangers as theywere... They were lives cut short.. Small chin bowed down ever slightly as her long form shifted deep within the confides  of the mattress and only then would she speak.. Her voice weak, lips chapped from the bitter elements." I'm......Raelin...."  Lips cracked open to take in a deep breath yet it was labored and designed of much effort in doing so.. The cold air felt like a thousand daggers cutting away at her chest and tightening muscles. "Show me the one from the sea"   Oh yes she heard the foreign man speak in askance.. Of her?  Hand claimed by the Captain coiled downward as she managed to squeeze his hand.. Bidding him from remaining with her.. It was her lifeline.
  
  
Queen Beathag Aberdeen:
"A shipwreck, your majesty..but why need this concern yourself? Others are investigating it, if things of not arrive they will tell you.." The voice of the Lord Chamberlain tried to impart to his Queen reason; in truth any time he sought to impart he failed and remembered the poignant, glorious reasons why despite the unusual ascendence of the family to power, the twists of orthodoxy, he stayed.  Being that she was perhaps above him by an inch or so, he relished that eyes could meet so he would not feel inferior. "Everythin' concerns me, M'Laird Chamberlain, sae twas proposed afore your God n' my own at the side o' the King when crown came tae brow n' m'rule was affirmed. Ye may'elp me by seein tha' all is settled fer taemorrow, fer after the sabbath day. Some things howe'ever do nay wait," said the woman with the golden hair left to swing loose save which was bound away from sight, with eyes of green glittering sharp. Where had she been, oh where had she been?  Within the walls of stone on high listening to the tales of woe that flowed along with the mead in her cup.  Solving the quandries of islands that floated in the cold sea, only to find that some things required a more direct hand. At the door to the room where all would be explained the feeling of portals abounded as if to step in to a magician's lair. What miracles of life preservation had the Frenchmen sought to work, what tactics did the Lion use to save unfortunate women who were not mermaids? "G'day gentlemen.." Long legged stride advanced complete with the familiar click of heeled boot even under a fine wool brocade. The woman who was Queen knew something of what it was to be a contradiction:  Doves do belong in the sea, nor do white hell hounds become women of granduer. Yet here they all were . "Ah hear a soul 'as come washed up tae shore among other things they tell me o' the world." (d)
  
Master Jean-Claude of Aquitaine:
The Captain had told him of the Lord General's desire to see them all washed out, to burn the shores in the superstitious way the Beast could be. Jean-Claude would touch the man's shoulder with that of his silk glove, and chill the very heart of the soul beneath his onyx gaze, "You forget, Mon ami, the Lord General comes from a land far different then our own, and one that no matter how tame we paint him he shall forever be wild." Though the day had been in full swing it was hard to turn the night from day as all seemed dark in the winter months and he knew the Arabic longed for home the most. In the pub he had remembered Maahes speaking of the first time snow had ever touched his face, that it was both the most enchanting experience of his life as well the first real reminder he was very far from home. Looking up to where he knew the Lord General to be he saw the outline of the man only, and was thankful he came. Her voice was quiet and weak, but still he found warmth in it--this brought a reminder to his heart that it still beat heated blood through frozen veins, "Bonsoir Mademoiselle, let me start with a hello hmm?" Despite his eerie face, Jean-Claude had a kind smile, and one that often seemed as though it didn't belong. However, it was when he came to her bedside, and that Captain move around beside her did he even show it, "I am Master Jean-Claude of Aquitaine," and it was not hard to pin his nationality, "I've come at the request of Monsieur Charles, to see to you..How are you feeling?" With his bag at his side he would start to look her over, far better at this routine when he was of sound mind, but the distant idea there in the back of his nearly black eyes seemed to prove the theory of his madness. (d
  
  
Lady Raelin ONeill:
Her tired eyes spoke of disenchantment. Yet it was not to sour or bitter the union of meeting either men. Peering upward as they spoke and the Frenchman coaxed the Captain to ease and addressed himself to her. A soft breath, and only then would a kind smile be given onto the man.  Jean was a man uncommon for any that she have ever seen before. Yet even still she did not fear him. Nor would she even pretend to be uncomfortable. She was at there mercy. "Better" Her voice gently cracked. Vibrant blues came to life in that moment as she stared upon the Frenchman and his colorless demeanor. Beautiful he was indeed yet it was not in the fashion of admiration or even woeing charm that he was seen to her in such light. She saw the porcelain decor of his figure as she would a statue, or shrine. Head tilted in that moment while heavy lashes fluttered several times in effort of refocusing her subject. "Tis nice to meet you, Jean-Claude.. I am Raelin...."  Her voice stolen away by yet another female upon her arrival.  A soft grunt made as she utilized that single moment to prop herself upon her elbows in efforts of meeting eyes with the beautiful blonde as she passed. A Queen through and through.. In all imperfections of the world she, clear as night and day stood out among them. With diligant respect her head bowed to the other woman.. Even without privy of whom she was. It would seem the people of his nation fussed over her.. A stranger and it warmed her heart and brought her to near tears. Who was she? Why would they care so much of her to spent there days fussing over her?"  A single brow arched and a slow smile etched itself upon her lips.  "Others... Monsieur Jean-Claude are weaker than I.. Please.. See to them"  Right hand extended and then fell out of the Captain's hold only to find settlement upon Jean's slender forearm.. In effort of catching his attention.
  
Queen Beathag Aberdeen:
A Queen through and through - she was the fixture containing portions of each sex by way of strength, mind, or virtue. Soft hands extended out to touch those de Aquitaine's patient and a source of the Lion's supersticion. To Beathag she was only a woman with a story to tell. Women always had so many. "Aye n' all will be looked tae in due course, but ye should nay dimish the importance o' yerself."  She lowered the six feet of her countenance down to her knee beside the woman's bed. Up close, age touched the Queen only in off handed places. A crinkle in her eye for laugh line, yet she seemed settled to be younger than forty-one years old. Soft hands still had the scars of old calluses, a neck under silver griffin necklace the signs of a long ago hanging. "Tis good ye feel better, perhaps iffn ye are able ye may tell us yer story o' how all this came tae pass. M'name is Beathag, Beathag Aberdeen. Many call me the Lady Bess."  It was a rather Irish sounding substitute for a thick-as-thieves Highland presence, but that too was a remnant of a long story that had her moving from harp strings, to swords, to the throne.  She watched Jean as he began his work. The man needed to be worked on or so said her own weathered eye. "Busy at work already is the physician."  Her smile was equal parts maternal and mischevious. (d)\
  
Good Brother Diarmuid:
One had to pity those stricken down by whatever illness now spread like wildfire throughout the arena.  As their eyes fell prayer to fever dreams, what would they make of a form that moved amongst them?  For it seemed as though, if their eyes were to be believed, a dark angel moved amongst them even now.  With a touch of a hand, the dark angel would slowly shake his head.  A quiet whisper of "Requiescat in pace" and the sign of the cross given to those who no longer had the breath of life in their lungs.  A soft touch of the dark angel's hand to their eyes, closed the eyes that gazed only now upon the Kingdom of Heaven.  There was a slow shake of his head, as the dark angel moved on to the next.  Here, he was a dark angel of death.  In the Valley of the Stars, he had been the Herald of the Inquisition.  But in truth?  The black-robbed form was simply Brother Diarmuid, a friar of the Knights Hospitaller. Eventually, he would come within sight of the queen.  His face was covered in a kerchief of black cloth, as though to keep from breathing in the pestilence that claimed so many.  There was a cant of his head, "This one yet draws breath? God be praised."  Perhaps in the asking, the poor Irishwoman would have some relief.  For Brother Diarmuid was, himself, an Irishman -- from Clontarf. ( D)
  
Master Jean-Claude of Aquitaine:
His fingers were cold under the silk of his glove as he touched her fingers in return, "I am not here for them, they are without hope. To be free'd from the sea, and to join it are two different stories, Mon cher. Please. Rest." He would smile again to both the shipwrecked soul, and the White Hound as she made her way in, "Your Highness," With that he would bow his head, and offer her the seat he had taken by the side of the Dove. "May I introduce to you the Lady Raelin, who recently joined us by way of the sea. Her story of washing on the shore has spooked the lord General." (d
  
Lady Raelin ONeill:
Ah the lass was Irish! It warmed her soul nearly in the equal fashion it had when the Captain first had spoken.  Bliss came in the art of kindred. Raelin was from Eire and thus she settled underneath the coo of the other woman's gentle voice and tenderness. The warmth of her hand was accepted and, as long digits folded over her knuckles she somehow managed to arch closer but not to intimidate the Queen. It was out of efforts of regaining the pride of her own composure.  "Muh experience a'sea tis nae fa'erable yer majesty"  Mimicked dignity honor of Jean when he indicated of her position in this nation.  "Travelin' is somethin I 'ave always enjoyed. Our ship capsized during a storm."She gave a paused and tears willowed within the soft depths of light eyes.. Jaw rolled and she forced herself to continue..  "Tey are all gone, My majesty.."    The Firar's voice was heard but she did not readily tear her gaze from the blonde woman. At least not for a long interval.  The touch of Jean's hand soothed her and she accepted his close contact with a loving geniality she granted onto everyone surrounding her. In truth Raelin was a woman of warmth and serene acceptance. It was her nature.   " S...Spooked the general?"  Some how even as she spoke.. It seemed very out of place. From what little she saw of the General  he seemed a mountain of a man.. A beast among men who feared nothing.. But then again it would have been childish to believe someone could indeed fear nothing at all..   "Tis tae muy great fortune that  t'sea brought be here.. Tae this beautiful Isle"  She loved this nation already with passion and the pride of her homeland.   "Lady Bess.. Ye bring me wit comfort.. I humbly offer muy services onto yer nation"  Only then would blues glide over to Jean and the Frier for acceptance.
  
  
Queen Beathag Aberdeen:
"First lass twould be best if ye recovered enough tae sit up, speak with nay a rasp n' stand first..aye."  The Highlander couldn't help but to grin in the face of another's adversity because the plucky spirit of the lass came up even when she was flat on her back in the bed.  Nodding to the Frenchmen, she accepted the stool by way of pushing herself back until the posterior met it, allowing her back to unfold in to a straight line until the moment she hunched forward  to listen close to the sea farer's tale. "Ah'm sorra tha' nay one else survived, those tha' come upon land or pass on it shall be given tae a fine rest here. Blessed, laid in hollowed ground of if ye know them tae be o' other ways laid tae a blessed pyre. Yer in good hands here, such as with the Master Jean-Claude n' the Brother Diarmuid. My Lion is a good pair o' hands tae but he's deeply pious in his ways n' tis nay hard tae spook him thus. Take nay worry o'er it."  She, too, was supersticious, but it never leant itself to zealous actions. "Wot in the story has the General spooked, Ah've heard tales o' things wishin tae be burned? Twould suffice tae say master deAquitiaine tha' o' all areas o' Scotland m'people most favor pyres n' high fires in Skye when it be nay high holiday either. We shall thus refrain from tha, please, unless the crown asks o' it? We've allowed enough o' late tae be burned." Villages in beautiful places nestled in the hills taken to torch to contain a madness born in the blood. It was winter, a small hope with it carried that all this too would freeze beneath virgin white, begin-again clarity."Fortunate ye are, Lady Raelin n' fortune ye will remain.  Ah've found in all m'years in Scotland tha' the people o' Skye Isle are by far the pluckiest sort o' folk. Vera good at begin anew, seein' things differently,"  so said the woman tolerated by the papacy for what reason she was still not certain of to this day, "all will be well." (d)
  
Good Brother Diarmuid:
There was a soft smile, as he offered a light half-bow toward the lady Raelin.  "Blessed day ta ye, milady," he said gently.  "Are you well enough?"With a gentle teasing, he asked the Physician, "Should we not at least get her somewhere warmer?  I do believe she'd enjoy a nice fire -- at the very least."  (D)
  
Master Jean-Claude of Aquitaine:
Jean-Claude positioned himself at the foot of her bed, smiling to the Queen as she gave the exact command he would have. "It is important to be yourself, in times like this we live only the moment." He could not stomach the thought of the future, living without his apprentice or his wife. The sky was a dark night now, with shadows long gone from the arena floor, and heavy sound of black wings taken flight. This was the nights lament of those lost in the sands Lord General's arena, the heart of Skye some called it as he sat at the right hand of the Queen. "It troubles him so.. the sea, he is constantly afraid for the dark waters and what sail upon it. After, what happened with Ealora I can dare say I do not judge him. He is a troubled man, Your Highness, It would be my professional opinion that you should keep an eye out on his replacement." Such words in the heart of the coliseum would have him killed should words have left any other's lips. Should we go to war again, he will not survive..and this is why he fears the sea. Ships that wash ashore, bring enemy with them, but we shall save that story for another time." He was crazed in the moment speaking out of turn and without much in way of formality. However the Scientist knew well the truth of it all, and in his weakened state he was a youth again with an opinion on everything--no fear in expressing it. With all that was going on in the Underdark, Jean-Claude had forgotten himself, and lived his life at his dying wife's side. He was not dressed as himself, and was even sporting a beard. Hell hath frozen over. (d
  
Lady Raelin ONeill:
Had she met these people a week ago she might have viewed life and there depictions in much a more cynical light. Yet never was she truly evil she did however hail from a family that imposed upon her the strict imperfections life had to offer. A thin brow wiggled upward and a slow smile eased it's way upon the crevice of her thin lips.  But, as the Queen and Jean spoke on the General's fateful behalf she could not help but feel sympathy for the Commander. Heavy lashes fluttered downward as her head tilted to the side and she merely drowned out unwanted sorrow.  Her gaze leveled and attuned onto the Frier in absence of the other two.  "Aye.. A fire would be grand iffen ye dae nae mind, Good Brother Diarmuid"  The dove cooed to the man and even wisped a fragile smile. 
  
Queen Beathag Aberdeen:
"A fire, some warm clothes, lest the poor thing be granted more hospitality by the north wind. When she is well enough tae be moved, a fittin room as well."  She absently moved a piece of Raelin's hair away from the forward progress it seemed to wish to make to hide her eyes.  The mention of the general's mind lay in wait to be answered. When time passed, she would say "Ah've noticed tha' many are worn through with years o' toil despite the youth in the number o' reign years, Master, includin yerself. Tis been a hard lot he has endured, as have ye all. Twill be cared for, in due course. Let us nay discuss tha' any further, but the course at hand. Brother Diarmuid when ye've seen tae those here tha' need it I should like ye tae bless the coastline iffn ye would, n' hold a special mass in honor o' the ship departed,n' prayers fer those now at sea. The royal family will be in attendance."  Such a task to be given, and not lightly. Despite his humble origins she knew it would be done well by the Augustinian."deAquitaine, when this lady is able tae be moved Ah should like fer ye tae see she has fine quarters within the Healer's Hall best wing one * o' privacy, peace n' quiet. Can ye point me in the direction o' the general?"  She would offer him comfort, for it was only the scarred, battle worn hands that would be so bold as to offer that to a man who could break them.Or, it was once said she was a match for him. It was also said he was the father of the one dark fleshed son she had, but people said many things (d)


Merlinus Sylvestris:
The rumble of horses hooves changed over to a slowed clap as the animal was brought to a walk though none might hear given the howl of the winds and perhaps the lamentation of the sick. The malaise lie in the streets purged from homes and shops as if to discard the sick would remove the disease and yet even Mryddin knew this was not so. The cloak of darkness hid well a relief of similar black both rider and mount and to some he might look like death himself though death was now giving a glance over his shoulder and deliberating going back. He tugged on the reins and the horse stilled as a small cart passed him and a cloak draped arm lifted against his nose and mouth as they did so. A traveller, a sign, an omen, no loss for words. "Oy.. " Voice was brusque, gravely from disuse. He rose in the saddle and swung a leg over dismounting though he'd probably regret it later. "You.. " There was a gesture given with the wave of his arm to the cart bearer. "Wot's this?" All of it. The young male hauling the cart looked at him and shook his head and Mryddin's own listed to one side as a single brow arched. Over the shoulder and along the line of his arm he looked back on the path he had come. It.. was probably too late to turn back. -d
  
Lord General Maahes Asad-Aziem:
Through the fires of the night he watched them all, positioned in his place like some King on his throne it amazed him still how much this land suffered. His job was secure so long as he lived, and a veteran of nearly seven wars never prepared him for what went on in the heart now of his homeland. Maahes stuck out, nearly a head above the crowd with skin touched by a thousand years of heritage that was born again and again under an unforgiving sun. He was greatly feared and even more so respected for their freedom depended on the heart of Skye, and the blood that ran through her veins of her streets--she was the pulse, while he the vessel that carried her law. It was too late to turn back, Mryddin was right. With all that went on, the Beast kept a close eye on his soldiers, and now open to the public the arena held new faces each day, but this one caught him. Chills chased his spine as he made his presence known ,"These are troubled times." He barked down from his post, "Do not gawk. State your name, and your business." The Captain who was sitting beside Raelin in her camp heard Maahes and was quick to stand and excuse himself.
  
Master Jean-Claude of Aquitaine:
Jean-Claude would take a deep breath, and shake his head to the Queen, "The hall is so full right now I'm not certain there would be room, Your Grace. All of your healers are exhausted as it is, but there is a bed free above my shop . I will see to it she is moved there tomorrow." He would smile kindly to Raelin, as well the Queen before following the captain with his eyes, and would draw back the curtain of the camp to see out into the arena. What was going on out there? (d
  
Lady Raelin ONeill:
At the touch of the other woman's hand she smiled and turned her head inward to briefly issue her palm a tentative nuzzle.  Lulled into a comfortable satisfaction she simple relented the struggle of sitting up and slumped upon themattress once more.. However the gruff voice of the General broke above all others and, with a shift a thin brow craned upward in askance and blues settled with ease upon the hardened, war seasoned man. He the lion among men and she the fragile dove who eyed him with mild confusion and worry.  "Thank you, your majesty"  She shifted her gaze from Maahes back to the Queen and Jean as they spoken.  "For tending to my needs"  Ah but then the breath of winter's wind blew within and she began to shiver.. Long legs pinned upward as she curled herself comfortable into a ball if only for body warmth.. Right hand clung onto the fur blanket and coiled it around her slender form. "Could...Perhaps I be moved now?"  She eyed them both with wonderment and unsettling gentility.
  
Merlinus Sylvestris:
The breath snorted from the horses nostils as well as clouded in front of the cowl that draped Mryddin's head. Breath that not even a cold wind could steal away and yet many of the bodies were no longer clouded.This actually was how he knew where to walk and not, signs, it was about the signs, he read them well. He held fast to the horses reigns as both man and beast walked slowly down the center of the road or at least until he heard the authoritative voice of Maahes call out to him. He turned and as he did his cloak swirled his legs half wrapping them and pinned by the wind. "Troubled times indeed.." He called back as a gust flapped his hood over his face somewhat muffling his words. He lowered his head to atone for it attenuating so that any future gusts struck him from behind. This way too his voice would carry. "I travel.. only to seek passage through." It seemed pointless to turn back now. "If ye don't mind me askin', wha' ails 'em?" The horse nickered at his side and he reached up to stroke the side of its head and then back through its mane. Before he dare speak his name he found prudence in his inquiry. Some names carried like strong winds and Mryddin's could very well have reached this far, by all those in the street that still did have breath, one might know of him. A character beyond the pale he did not often offer himself up to any task. Genius was always eccentric.. temperamental at best. -d
  
Master Jean-Claude of Aquitaine:
Jean-Claude would be the one to answer, black hair shifting in the wind like fabric it was so fine yet thick upon his head despite the age he presented to the world. Jean was a man of noble birth, and could live anywhere in the world with the connections he held, the rank within the aristocrats. However, it was Skye that found him a home when all others cast him out, and even Paris had once made a heretic of him for simply believing their was an explanation for everything through the world of modern science. He was as well studied as money could buy, but still felt himself a student in the line of knowledge. Many of the healers would be quick to speak of the devil to the man who asked of sick, telling him the work of the unholy was at hand, and Jean would only hang his head. "Much is wrong," He finally spoke again after gathering himself, "As you will see they are sick, dying of something not exposed in the air, but transferred from blood to blood." He knew the truth, but dare not admit it to any. Turning to look over his shoulder at Raelin he would give her a nod, "If you feel well enough to rise, my friend you may get up, you are only exhausted. I could find nothing wrong." He would be too if he were washed upon shore. "Perhaps you can help me figure out what has our people so sick, Monsieur? " He spoke again to the new face, "but first I think it would please our Lord General if you stated your name?" From where Maahes stood he crossed his arms. (d
  
Lady Raelin ONeill:
Though it was delayed she eventually shifted her gaze upon the new comer and offered a curious tilt. Thoughtfulness adorned the soft depths of her eyes though a weak, smile presented itself for Mryddin .  Unlike Maahes she was was not suspicious of this man's intent. As a matter of fact she was rather grateful Jean was handling the matter in such a cleaver, generous fashion. Truly he must have been a diplomat.  When eyes befell upon her a faint chuckle eased between cracked lips as she scooted her lithe form toward the ledge of the bedding and then, with a small sigh draped the length of her legs over the rim and eased herself upward to stand.. The fur cloak fell into curtain around her back within the same motion.. Once she settled into full statute they would relaize she herself was very tall.. Reaching five feet and eleven inches. Yet still shorter than the beloved Queen.  "I'm actually feeling much better.. Testimate to each of your gentle and welcoming hand"   Maahis hand was a much different matter but thoughts would remain unsaid and upon the way side. Her attention was given to the new comer as she even inched a bit closer, centralizing herself within the small circle.
  
Merlinus Sylvestris:
Mryddin turned to Jean-Claude who answered the question rather than Maahes. As he did he drew a flask from his cloak and tugged at the stopper before tipping it to his mouth to drink. When he lowered it he swallowed and only after that did he respond. "Blood to blood.." He nodded slowly, a keen intellect assessing the response which.. made no sense to him. Blood diseases ran in families unless of course it was a rather incestuous lot comprising the majority of the city. Mryddin would bet on the water. Or grains. Some pestilence but not blood to blood. "I... see.." He turned to the horse and spoke something to it but whatever he said to it was not shared. It was disturbing enough that he was speaking to a horse. The animal stilled as he pivoted and approached Jean-Claude. A name. They still wanted a name and amusement lifted the outer edges of his mouth though the gesture was unseen beneath the shadows of the hood. "Merlinus Sylvestris.." A lift of his hand in a mild flourish was given Maahes. Now as he neared them more formally he noted the lady beginning to rise from her bed and she might see the inclination of hooded crown returned her although he did not speak to her. "Spirits instead of water, what is good for the heart is good for the hands, eat no grain until the next full moon and dispose of the dead more.. properly and this too shall pass." Merlinus, Mryddin, Merlin.. Wild. He had a sense about him if he possessed any sense at all, or when, and what he said would hold true unless of course the affliction poisoning the masses was introduced in another manner. That.. of course would suggest a human accomplice. -d
  
Master Jean-Claude of Aquitaine:
An accomplice indeed, for it was the very heart of a boy once so poor he could not afford to be cheated out a few coins. Jean-Claude had watched his apprentice argue mathematics like he was reading from the bible it was as raw and powerful as the message within the good book. Julian was of the Clan Munro, and now an Aquitaine for he had purchased the child like cattle from his poor mother who was thought dead by now. Did the pain show through on the Master's face? It was there. With a nod of his head the healers would go on to do what the man wished for Jean had no reason why it wouldn't help, and what was being done sure wasn't. "A helpful thought indeed, and this is what keeps you so merry I would assume." For an instant his age did show around the edge of his eye where his smile did rise and wrinkle the skin.
  
Lord General Maahes Asad-Aziem:
For every man who thought himself mortal there was always one who held no fear, and Maahes would be quick to raise his voice in protest, "Who are you to suggest we do not dispose of the dead properly." He was a massive man, with a barrel chest that roared with the air to fuel his fire, and the rich deep accented voice would roll like thunder from his lips, "You speak of the moon like it is something to be accounted for." The Muslim was always quick to judge, and would cast the first stone. This was what won him wars, but also the biggest reason he's now freshly divorced. It took everything in his power not to kill his ex-wife as in his homelands it would have been legal. "Do you speak to it too like you do your horse?" (d
  
Lady Raelin ONeill:
Her shock came instantly when Mryddin offered up the disrespectful suggestion of the passing and how the people of Skye should treat the fallen. It was in that moment that she felt a heavy weight inside her chest. Breath caught in her throat and, it was also in that moment that the timid lass felt awkward there at the center of the heartening madness. Maahes spoke and even bolted closer to the new comer and she viably cringed. Thin, finely manicured brows pinched together as she bowed down her head in quiet submission.  But then she founded her voice and even though it was weak it was mustered anyway.  "We all cope with the dead in our own way.. Master Merlin." Spoken as if it were lulled by the kiss of a flowery song.

Merlinus Sylvestris:
Each man had a story to tell and one that would not be spoken even unto death. Mryddin was no different than Jean-Claude in that respect though neither knew how similar they really were. It was the same of all men, and women. "I am not a merry man," Mryddin told Jean-Claud, "though some might claim I am mad." Remember temperamental? Of course the lady felt out of place when Maahes''sonorous voice echoed over the din of wind and man. Mryddin contrarily did not flinch. There.. was always one. He cokeed his head to one side regarding the man though he was not so easily regarded with the hood of his cloak still concealing his features. Maybe death did reside within. Lifting both hands he gestured to the streets and the dead that were literally left in the gutter to be picked up when the next cart came. Some were propped against the very houses they left, the others lay further out. "You broom your dead before they've become dust.. but.." He took a few steps nearer the man though there was still significant distance between them thus the need for volume. "I spoke unto the layman. But for you vigilant keeper of men.. I shall elaborate." The modern man might say okay richardwad here's the skinny but Myrddin was good enough to clarify. "Bodies should be burned or buried, buried distant from the water source or table supplying tha' city. Burned only if the pox is not airborne. An'.. the moon was used as a general statement of time which will be exactly.." He looked up to the sky. "Twenty and three days.. " For the man that had no calendar. "Mind you...the horse that I spake unto didn't need such clarification.. because when I tell him to stay.. he does." And so that question was answered as well. Mryddin told the animal to stay. He would not tie it off near the dead and as a traveller, trust it with all his belongings, to anyone. Now Mryddin had never said his name as Merlin however he did state Merlinus, perhaps the lady only meant to shorten it for convenience. Or she was one of those that knew. He bowed his head to her with the civility of a nobleman though he was likely trying to examine her knickers as she sat there. "These are hard times as 'e will tell you.." A gesture to Jean-Claude. "Alas good Lady gentility of words at times is alack. My sincere.. "
  
Lord General Maahes Asad-Aziem:
"You are not a merry man, but you speak to horse? No..you are not merry, you are fool." He would raise his hand to close around the rail to where he stood. He looked out over them all, in a box reserved for royalty when the joust came to town. "So Jester Man, riddle this. Fires did not work, we burned the entire land it started from, and burn the city until it can take no more. More and more they rise to fall in our streets. Men are dying, and families are being torn apart. YOU, want to come in here and teach me how to count the moon?" Already the men around the trio on the ground beneath there were in motion for they knew what came next. Heads would hang in gallows beneath the city,but the cold hand of the scientist would come and touch the shoulder of the man before him.
  
Master Jean-Claude of Aquitaine:
A secret society would have him holding rank where it was important, and Maahes knew this, "He is an ignorant fool." The Frenchman's voice was quiet as he whispered there inside the man's shell, "But your theory intrigues me." Like a new book he devoured the man's thoughts, and could read a person just the same as the page there within his hand. "Quiet, or he will have you arrested..and then we shall exchange ideas between bars no?" With that the scientist would wave Maahes off, and the men too would stand down, "They are not so barbaric here as that one, he is a rough soul. You would be wise to stay away from that man's path." A silk covered hand would extend to the man, and the small silvery decorations by ways of what appeared to be gears would show under his lace covered cuff; to what it connected..would be argued until the other was blue in the face. "Jean-Claude of Aquitaine, but here they call me Master d'Aquitaine." Master he was, for hundred came from far and wide to hear of his lectures on the modern science and the theories that started them . With his eyes then a deep navy so blue they almost looked black he would move to the Dove, who was quick to defend Skye and he did feel pride then swell. Perhaps they would have use of her yet. "It is easier said then done, Mon Cher, but he is right. We have not been disposing of the bodies as we should, but fire is such a powerful yet symbolic way to see heaven is it not? Come. I shall buy you both drinks." (d
  
Lady Raelin ONeill:
This was not a subject she was comfortable with at all.. In fact the uneasiness played quite soundly upon the elegance of her face. Tall as she might have been she was clearly no fighter, nor did she have the heart to bear the wounds of death.  Though she did not fear Maahes she did bear an ounce of respect for the man.. He was a barbarian among men and when Jean wisely advised the man to take caution a brow arched and she even issued Merlin a nod.. But that was the extent of her damage.. With a bow directed toward the General and physician she dipped away from the circle and actually began to roam aimlessly around the arena.  Disarrayed she really had no plan of action.
  
Merlinus Sylvestris:
The merry man was spoken to Jean-Claude who had called him such. Maahes felt the need to answer. As to the horse Mryddin already clarified that he told it to stay. By the guards actions one could see his frustration, perhaps fear, his uneasiness was palpable. Mryddin was an eccentric, not a fool. He did not press him in any way as to offend him he only offered suggestions and a time frame in which to implement them. Was it his nature to respond in like temperament? No, his own was in general more caustic but again he did not offer that to Maahes. "I offer only suggestion as such things I have seen before.." Mryddin inclined his head to the man in the box as he took a couple steps toward him. "Water can be contaminated. If you drink spirits you spare yourself of that possibility. If you avoid grains you are avoiding rodents and insects that could have infected your grain stores. We are civilized me, yes?.. and yet.. the common fly evades us. It is the way of nature. Washing the hands with the same spirits we drink thus sterilizing them with alcohol..removes the infectants from our hands so they do not go to nose or mouth. A months time.. a moon.. is how long it will take for those that are infected to pass and those that have abstained fromfoods or drink that could cause illness to prove themselves in health after which, good sir, each item can be more thoroughly examined because you are well taxed now just in the dispense of bodies.."He felt the press of a hand on his shoulder and looked over it to Jean-Claude. "I do not see barbarism, I see tangible fear and with good reason Jean-Claude of Aquitaine." He said the name in full so that he would remember it. "If you can not aid your people, do so for yourself and your lady friend.." He dipped his chin toward the woman. Of course since Jean-Claude was behind it he was safe and so was anyone he deemed worthy or not a threat. His hand was offered and Mryddin instead too his arm, wrapping his hand half around his forearm in a more genuine grasp and then he released him.Gears indeed were seen but Mryddin had his own hardware bracered around his wrists beneath the long sleeve of his shirt.  He turned to the woman more fully now as he had said little to her yet her could see her discomfort. Sickness of this magnitude was trying and she a lady should not be exposed to such raw observations. "If you are well.." Jean-Claude had probably made a new best friend. "..then listen to the Master.. he seems to be a man of good fortitude and sensibility. As for me.. I am passing through and must continue on my journey as I am expected. I have many more hours to travel.." He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. With the dip of his sleeve and his cloak draped back over his arm one might glean the runes inked over his skin, in this area the back of his hand and down beneath leather wrapping his wrist. The snap was to call the horse that trotted over to him. He grabbed its reigns. "I shall return this way.. or perhaps not.." Maahas might have him banned even though he was trying to help. Maybe, if this was man done, it was the guard behind it. "I wish you both well."  -d
  
Good Brother Diarmuid:
What was it about fire that provoked an undying fear within the human psyche?  For that was undeniable.  There was always that spark that flared briefly, as quick and fading as an ember's glow.  There was little doubting that fire's reputation had only been enhanced - or was it sullied? -- by having its alluring and destructive powers harnessed by the Inquisition in the prosecution of witches...and the use by civil authorities when it came to containing outbreaks of disease....   Brother Diarmuid, he had seen it used both ways.  And, in truth, would enjoy a time when Skye could abandoned its use.  For now, he was amongst the sick in the arena.  Doing what he could to help those that suffered.  As the Augustinian moved amongst them, he saw the woman - Lady Raelin.  Once seeing that his current patient was comfortable, Brother Diarmuid would rise and moved to greet her.  "Are you feeling much improved, Lady Raelin?"  Although, as a monk, there was a rather unusual feature.... his lack of a rosary. (D)
  
Master Jean-Claude of Aquitaine:
"He is deeply afraid, we all are. Please, do not pay him any mind. You do not need to leave, the roads are long and the night is cold. I do not dare admit that you are afraid of this city, but know the countryside is far worse." He had left his cane by the door of the tent, and moved to gather it. The large heavy ruby of the tip turned his knuckles white as he held it rather firmly. Beneath every finely pinned hem, and thick ivory lace the Frenchman was a mangled mess of scars from where his theories ran too close together with the good book and he was tied to the square to burn. It had been a long night then, when Paris had burned all of their own to place again the fear of God. Was this what was happening here? Rounding closer to 50 then 40 the scientist had seen his better share of what was to come, but this time it was far more personal then the entire city of Paris thinking him a fool. "My son.." He whispered, but dare not speak out any further then the man's ears, "My son is very sick. He is tall, like me. With eyes the color of ice, by now I would imagine him very thin, his face sunk in. He is sick, would you keep this news to where you travel, that should any see him I beg them detain him, and not kill. His name is Julian." With a bow of his head to the man, as well one more look over his shoulder he would excuse him from the night to return to the bedside of his dying wife. (d
  
Lady Raelin ONeill:
As though an angel fallen from heaven Raelin moved with a grace and poise born of a timeless queen. Slow, deliberate yet fluid as though she were nothing more than the weightlessness of air itself. Flowing, smooth white gown waffled around her lithe form as she stared upon the faces of the sick and the dying. Mournfulness over took any expression the Dove could have bore this night.. Such a terrible sight and one she would never forget. Raven tendrils were left down to frame the contents of her face. Bright blues sparkled in the moon light and, when her name was called she slowly turned around to level her gaze upon the friar.  "I am...But this is not a fond awakening"  Perhaps innocent of her to say. She allowed Maahas, Jean and Merlin to speak.. But they were still within close proximity to her own position.