Dubhaine Family/Etain/Roleplays/2017/September

6th September

Evening - Oligarch

"Grandmother," Etain whispered into the dark interior as she perched precariously against the window sill, left arm and leg wrapped in coils of the silk-wrapped hemp rope descending from the crenellations far above. This was the third window she'd checked since losing the toss to her brother Leopald, the former Ghost Watch captain slapping her on the shoulder with great mirth as he'd lowered her over the embrasure.

What did the mad old bat think she was doing, wandering into the heart of the enemy's camp even as the armies of the North sped away with their tails between their legs? So much for all those long lectures on duty and caution...

Etain kicked back from the wall and slipped down to the next storey, cursing the lunatic who planned the high eyries of Oligarch's rambling palace complex. The cunning stonework and near-ethereal flying buttresses demonstrated the annoyingly flawless craftsmanship she associated with the Elven Republic and she wondered if this part of the complex had been commissioned by the enigmatic Doc.

"Grandmother?" a glimmer of light broke through the thick brocade curtain as Lady Brigdha drew it aside, revealing a well-appointed sitting room.

"Etain!? What on earth are you doing dangling outside my window at this hour?"

"Isn't it obvious Grandmother! I'm here to rescue you!" her voice sounded considerably more confident than she felt.

"Oh, a rescue. You think I need rescuing? Who do you think I am? Some frail crone at the mercy of any damn fall with a blade?" the force of personality caused her to inadvertently jerk backwards.

"Are you okay down there sis?" Leopald leaned over the embrasure with his bow half-knocked.

"I might have known," Lady Brigdha crossed her arms, "Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber."

"Please Grandmother, keep your voice down," Etain shifted uncomfortably as she scanned the night for signs of danger.

"Keep my voice down? I'm not the one hanging from a rope shouting my head off for all and sundry to hear."

"That's hardly fair!"

"Oh, do come in. You're making the place look untidy. And you Leopald," Brigdha stretched her hand out of the window and snapped her fingers thrice in quick succession.

A few minutes later they were sat around a roaring hearth drinking tea as a maid served delicate pastries. It wasn't exactly the circumstances Etain and Leopald had expected to find their grandmother enduring and they were still somewhat on edge.

"Oh alright, I apologise for calling you Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber. I know your hearts are in the right place, and I apologise for worrying you. But I know what I'm doing," she handed them the letter from Prime Minister Garas and they sipped their tea in silence, mulling its contents.

"Is it true?" Etain elegantly placed her cup and saucer on the occasional table next to her chair.

"I don't know for sure," Brigdha sipped her tea, "but it's true that your great aunt has always kept her private life very private indeed. I still don't know who the fathers of any of her children are Rhidhana was three before Moira even told me about her. So yes, it's possible Garas may indeed be my grand nephew and your second cousin. I have to examine the journals he refers to and compare their dates with our family archives."

"So should we stay and help?" Leopald popped a particularly sweet pastry into his mouth, causing him to mumble his words slightly.

"There precious little to kill in an archive," Brigdha's brow creased in amusement.

Hunts

Date	Region	Time	Hours	Enemy	Strength	Outcome	Money	Loot	Status