Dubhaine Family/Ciarghuala/Roleplays/1018/October

2nd October

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Goriad Gabanus

She picked her tunic up from the ground, and as she got dressed, she gave him a wondering glance, no longer annoyed, but interested. "So why don't you look for a nice little dame who would be happy to be your lover, instead of trying to restrain someone... like me?"

---

As Tyra stepped back and picked up her tunic Goriad smilled and spread out his arms. "Behold, I have freed myself!"

He made a gesture to Tyra who was putting on her tunic. "Do get dressed, somehow it seems dressed you ask wiser questions than you do naked."

He sat himself down on the ground, crossing his legs. "Throughout all of this you have assumed I seek to find you in marriage, but you are the only one who even mentioned the word. You claim I seek to restrain you. Why? You can think of no other alternative?" he continued to speak "If you understand your advesaries, you hold power of the situation. Just as I held power despite you holding the knife." He now nodded to her.

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

He made a gesture to Tyra who was putting on her tunic. "Do get dressed, somehow it seems dressed you ask wiser questions than you do naked."

Tyra considered just walking out on him, but for the sake of the lesson and the four times he bested her, she shrugged, and went to get her pants on. "You are less insufferable when I'm dressed, too."

He sat himself down on the ground, crossing his legs. "Throughout all of this you have assumed I seek to find you in marriage, but you are the only one who even mentioned the word. You claim I seek to restrain you. Why? You can think of no other alternative?" he continued to speak "If you understand your advesaries, you hold power of the situation. Just as I held power despite you holding the knife." He now nodded to her.

She looked at him, investigative. "I didn't necessarily assume you seek marriage, but your condition that if I want you, I should have no one else without you, that's something married couples do. I appreciate the offer to have fun with someone else while we're together, but to forego it completely in your absence, that's... Who do you think I am?" She went ahead and knelt before him, fully dressed. "Also, why would you want to make this into a game of power? Isn't it tiring, to be playing games all the time? Even in bed? Have fun instead."

Goriad Gabanus

Goriad frowned for a second. "This has been a game of power and legacy since the first day I laid eyes upon you Tyra," he said with a sudden stern voice.

He then remained silent for several seconds "You could be among the greatest of all time, if one would teach you patiemce and understanding of the world. You had Aldrakar's respect at such a young age, and when I met you I knew why. You are an heir to two powerful houses, a woman as fierce as the sun, yet still raw and unchanneled."

He paused again to allow his words some time to sink in. "But you have been so occupied with yourself that you failed to wonder about why I would help you."

"I want to help you channel your fire, to teach you patience and understanding of the mind of others. Once you do, you can have fun unrestrained."

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

Tyra listened quietly, not without a hint of surprise. "You have your work cut out for you, hm? I think ever since I was born, people have been trying to teach me patience and restraint. It never stuck. You'll have a few months to try, I suppose, on our journey. The other half of that lesson... I'd like to learn."

She then gave him one of her unrestrained smiles, genuinely warm. "At least I got to hear the real Goriad, and I like him, even if he has a little penchant for grandeur... Now all he has to do is answer my damned question!"

3rd October

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Emyhr le Craint

The salty sea breeze brushed through Emyhr's rugged silver hair, shielding his eyes from the wind his only redemption by ducking behind the ledge of the boat. Emyhr stood on the main deck of the ship. His eyes encircled by dark black circles, blood shot and watery his sleepless nights proved ever tough for the young man. Once the breeze passed by, Emyhr stood up once again and looked over the bay towards the port of Askileon, he let out a deep sigh turning away looking towards his men settling down for the evening. At which point Solomon approached, the man looking better then Emyhr did, he leaned against the edge of the boat.

"So... We have finally taken the plunge into the unknown. My friend, I do not know what the world has in store for us on our travels. I hope that tonight will be the night I finally get some sleep."

Emyhr struggled on his feet, his lack of energy was becoming more and more apparent with every day that past. Solomon held out his arm as a brace for Emyhr, the two of them making their way toward a table that had been set up on the top deck. A couple of attendants began preparing the table for the evening meal, covering the warn table with a simple linen cloth, placed an assortment of cups and plates followed by jugs of wine. The two of them sat at opposite ends, the stewards poured wine into each of their cups and departed towards the stairs going below deck towards the kitchen.

"The future may be clouded in mystery but that is part of the charm of it. Wherever the winds shall take us, I am sure we will find a hint towards what we seek. For now, let us eat. With luck, the sea shall help you sleep tonight."

The two men enjoy the meal prepared by the ships crew, a simple meal not suited for a noble but they enjoyed it none the less. As the evening drew to a close, the men began to break into the kegs of ale brought along for the trip, many of them excited for the venture in the north. Emyhr and Solomon now a few drinks down joined a few of the men as they reveled in the prospects of the future, many of them showing off scars from battles and fights. Emyhr was feeling more prospective about the future seeing the men enthusiastic and hopeful. Emyhr grabs his drink and stood up promptly.

"Well then men, the time for adventure is now. Lets us remain hopeful to what lies in wait for us. To the future..." Emyhr raised his cup in cheer. "TO THE FUTURE.." The men cheered in chorus.

15th October

Winter Day -- Poryatu

Kaguya Fujiwara

The copse was not large, only a meager cluster of trees that broke the mostly endless plains of Ciarin Tut. But the undergrowth was enough to conceal Kaguya, Alfreid, and a couple other retainers. Fifty metres due south was a dry riverbed in which hid another handful of warriors. South again, a disused irrigation ditch with another group of men, and so on.

The last battle had gone ill, and the Fujiwara scion had commanded that her forces disperse. A difficult decision to make; Retreat was not a pill easily swallowed by Yamatai pride, but there was no sense in wasting the lives of good men. Three had thrown themselves to the wolves so that the rest could escape. Their yoroi would have to be retrieved and returned to their households after this was over, in keeping with the Yamatai tradition of preserving armour as family heirlooms.

In the meantime Kaguya watched and waited, counting meticulously the beasts as they roamed the fields seeking to sate their appetites on stray cattle or foolish smallfolk who had not had the sense to beeline home and bolt their doors behind them. Her face was slick with grime and sweat, and bitter with barely concealed frustration at her present impotency.

Still, the Countess of Ciarin Tut was not one to waste time in fruitless idling. Men had been dispatched - surreptitiously of course in ones and twos - now to scout the enemy, or to warn outlying hamlets of the approaching threat. It would not kill the beasts, but perhaps these efforts might mitigate the damage done to her holdings and people, or perhaps produce information that was of use to the rest of the army.

"Another scout has returned, milady."

"Indeed." A curt nod. No smile. "Captain, he shall be provided a sturdy branch, through which he must sketch the disposition of the enemy thus encountered."

Kaguya glanced briefly at the sunset as Alfreid hurried away. Slowly but surely, light was fading, and with it would come a sleepless and terrifying night. Her thoughts went briefly to Veronica; hopefully the Dame's surviving troops had managed to stash her and themselves away someplace safe. The Countess had no idea where they had gone, and the thought of a wounded Lurian noble - stranded within her lands without resources nor help - chafed on her sensibilities as a Lady of the Empire.

She grit her teeth and turned her attention back to counting the vile things, hoping that friendly banners would soon appear.

17th October

Winter Day -- Poryatu

Veronica Gardarr

Ciarin Tut

Veronica laughed as the handsome man led her across the ballroom, his dashing smile and his fast steps across the dance floor made her heart race. Occasionally she would notice a blurred face as she spun and twirled as they danced faster and faster.

Faster and faster they danced, until she became as light as air, faster and faster they danced until they lifted up in the air. Magic … Veronica beamed, the man smiled and they danced. The walls and the roof of the Ballroom folded away and they danced, higher and higher into the Night sky.

The Night sky beckoned and the stars shone bright, still they danced higher and higher lifting over white puffy clouds. The man pulled her closer and as they embraced their dance slowed down. She was content in his warm embrace.

Something changed and it felt wrong, he was holding her tighter, and she was struggling to breathe.

“You’re hurting me … let go …” She pushed at him until she could lift her head. His smile had turned into a sneer, his eyes cold and his touch even colder. His mouth opened wider and wider and rows of teeth yellow and stained bore down upon her. His hands turned to claws and they pressed into her as his grip tightened.

Veronica tried to scream, but his embrace left her dizzy and out of breath, she mustered all the strength she could and freed her arms. She went for its face and dug her nails deep, pulling with all the might she could muster she left deep gashes, a foul pungent odor assaulted her senses as yellow pus flowed down the creatures face.

The pus burned her hands, but it was worth it. Its grip loosened on her, she struggled and squirmed until she could slip from its embrace. She started falling backward; it felt like an eternity as she tipped away from it. Its cold eyes held her and its blood crusted claws reached for her. But it was too slow, she was free and so she plummeted down and down towards the fluffy clouds below.

Cold air assaulted her as she fell; fear enveloped her as she fell and so the clouds welcomed her not with a soft embrace but a cold lingering pain.

---

Veronica’s eyes fluttered open to the screams of men. She remembered now, she fell of her horse. She strained as she pushed herself into a sitting position, the cold winter snow seeping into her bruised body.

She reached up and touched the back of her head and flinched at the bolt of pain. She looked at her hand and noted the red crimson on her glove, slowly turning her head she noticed the blood stained snow where her head had rested. Frowning she lifted herself into a standing position. The world felt like it was spinning around her, she almost lost conciseness but pushed on pass the dying men around her.

She remembered …

It was early morning when they rushed the makeshift fortifications. She had ordered the line to be held but they were too many, her men loosed arrow after arrow, but the horde just kept coming the left flank fell first then the right.

Then they scattered.

She looked around her, her horse lay in the snow not too far off, hunching figures crowded over it tearing at it. They where to engrossed in their meal to notice her, she struggled through the early winter snow trying to make for the nearby forest. She was going to make it, closer she got, even closer still, yes the trees welcomed her.

Joy turned to a burning pain as she fell to the ground; she had been struck, crunching footfalls in the snow told her all she needed to know, scrambling on all fours she tried to get away. Pain shot from the back of her head as her once golden hair now rust colored with matted blood was pulled tight.

She fell backwards and lost vision for a second, as she lay in the snow, the beast slowly bent down towards her, is foul hot breath upon her. It lifted its club ready to strike the killing blow, Veronica covered her face with her arms and knew that this was it, she screamed.

The blow never came, the beast stood over her, and it had three arrows sticking out of his chest. It was staring at them in amazement before it fell backwards and bled out. Veronica felt herself being lifted.

“We have her, move out you sons of dogs, full retreat. We head deeper into the woods. Where is that bastard healer, get him NOW!”

Veronica blacked out.

19th October

Winter Day -- Poryatu

Sevastian Schwarzherzig

"Legatus, it is time." Sevastian's Tribune dutifully announced. Sevastian exited the villa he had commandeered as his headquarters and made his way to what would serve as the duelling ring. He shrugged off his cloak and breastplate, which were dutifully taken by a servant. Queen Luarin arrived just then, and he offered a smart salute with his sword.

"Your Majesty, you caused me insult by disobeying a command that was lawfully mine to give, and left me to face the monster hordes alone. It was in this very field I was wounded as a result of your turning from battle. I do not wish to harbor a grudge, but my honor demands satisfaction for this affront. Let us bleed away bad blood upon this very grass, so that we may again walk in friendship." Sevastian intoned, and stepped into the hastily marked ring.

His opponent did the same, and Sevastian's second counted down, and gave the signal to begin. Luarin took up a defensive posture, and Sevastian carefully closed the gap, feinting a thrust and following it with a high slash. His technique showed considerable experience and skill, and it was clear he had the advantage... If only just.

The two traded blows at an increasingly furious pace, Sevastian's feints and maneuvering failing to draw Luarin from her defensive posture. Sweat beaded on Sevastian's brow, and he knew he couldn't keep this pace up for forever. He began to force himself to breath heavier, and held back on his blows to give the impression he was tiring, and then with a dramatic flourish... He was exposed. Luarin thrust home, hoping to finish the match, but Sevastian had been waiting for this. He stepped into the thrust, catching the blade in his thigh. He cried out in pain, and Luarin's eyes went wide as she tried to pull the blade free... But she was too late. Sevastian thrust his blade home, and she crumpled to the ground, bleeding... But still alive.

The Queen's second called for a halt and healers rushed onto the field. Sevastian had the sword removed and his leg bandaged. He began to limp off the field when a strabgky dressed man appeared from seemingly nowhere.

"Legatus Sevastian Schwarzherzig?"

"I am." Sevastian replied, his piercing eyes sizing up the man before him.

"Sign here." The man intoned, holding out a quill and a piece of parchment.

"Luarin Bowker had a price of 2,000 gold on her head to whosoever kills or incapacitates her. The prize is yours."

Sevastian looked surprised but happily signed the reciept.

"2000 bonds in your name, which can be redeemed at any Ferratan bank. Take care." The man tipped his hat, and was gone again. Sevastian's Tribune shot Sevastian a puzzled look.

"Legatus, who was that?"

Sevastian shook his head.

"Bounty Comisssion Official. Strange bunch."

21st October

Winter Morning -- Poryatu

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

She had been at sea for what seemed like weeks, now. Alya was restless but she managed to take the time to become a fish, spending every single moment she could, in the water. Tyra often asked her, jokingly, to show behind her ears so she could verify the absence of gills. When they practiced swordfight, the warrior often distracted her by mentioning her fingers were becoming webbed, or fins that were growing on her back. Alya laughed at first, but after a seaborne monster group passed by their ship one day, humanoid looking, but full of fish-like features, she got a little impressed.

Now, the teenager was taking her nap (since she couldn't be swimming under the strong midday sun), and the Countess was entertaining herself with one player Skat, taking her time to actually wonder about Goriad.

Word came he was in jail - well, that's why they were waiting for his return, even though she could see the towers of the Springdale palace right ahead. Their first stop. Maybe she should land without him...

He had been very open after they had both been dressed that day a long time ago. He told her, he wanted her only for himself, because he wanted an heir, not a wife. To say she had been surprised would be an understatement... yet he had told her a little about his children, and how they had grown up with his brother and became... quirky. Their mother had been a fire witch and hadn't been around much. Tyra felt like there was more to that story but hadn't pressed... She had only asked him "why me?" and Goriad had repeated himself.

"Strong body, good lineage and fierce." She muttered, and one of the sailors nearby looked at her. She darted a silencing look his way, which the crew had soon learned to respect, and set another card on the creaking floor before her. Why hadn't she said "No" right away?! She always took precautions so she wouldn't have to join the battlefield with a huge belly... But he had been sincere and she had promised to consider it. And still hadn't decided. Every day his arrival was delayed, it was a bit of a relief for her, not to have to give him an answer.

It was also another night she got to enjoy one of her scouts or someone from the crew... Though none of them had any exceptional skills. The younger one was being quite easy to train, though.

Marjorie de Chevalier

She had heard it again.

Despite everything, she had heard it again.

Despite the court hearings, the beatings, the lashings, the hangings and the many other evils that she had used, she had heard it again. 'Pagan'.

When Marjorie was entrusted the county of Dantooine, she had imagined it would be an easy task. Too easy, perhaps. Overseeing the food production of Luria and keeping the farmers happy, fed and clothed. Keeping them in line. This had proven not to be the case.

Ever since Marjorie's arrival in Dantooine, the farmers have been wary of her. Though the matter had never been taken to her directly, the cretinous whispers of the great unwashed masses found their way into the Chateau in even intervals. The peasants were unhappy with Marjorie. and particularly her lack of faith. Pagan was the word that they had chosen for her. A pagan ruler, it seemed, was unfit to rule this pious farmland.

Marjorie had attempted to reconcile her differences with the peasantry in many ways. First, kindly. She had held meetings in the local town halls, had the town criers chant praise of her most capable administration, and paid local leaders to attempt to sway the peasants' fury elsewhere. Nothing had worked. Then, the pagan Countess had called for many, lengthy days at court, where she had patiently but firmly established how serious she considers this situation to those responsible to the local towns and estates. Nodding and agreeing, the Countess Marjorie thought that finally the people of Dantooine would relent; that they would accept their new ruler, whose patience and virtue should now be undeniable, despite their religious differences. But no.

Finally, the Countess could no longer stand the whispers. Pagan, unholy, not of the Celestial Scales; unworthy of Dantooine. She took to the only means left for her. Violence. She made examples of all those that had defied her, dragging husbands into the streets. First for beatings, then for lashings, and then for hangings. Even a few widows would follow their men into the grave, if they dared to speak of their lizard god even after witnessing the departure of their beloved.

The whispers, finally, stopped. Some farmers, filled with rage and vengeance, tried to protest her rule still, but it was nothing in comparison. The Countess was happy that at long last she could think again, at peace in the Chateau, without having to hear the constant scurrying of treacherous rats. Still, this experience had changed the Countess. She could no longer stand the lizard cult, as she now referred to the Celestial Scales. Whenever she passed the small temple hosting this foul religion, only one thought occupied her mind.

Burn it.

Only then would she know, for certain, that she will never hear the whispers again.