Dubhaine Family/Moira/Roleplays/2011/January

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January 7th -- Via

Moira slipped into the boiling, oil-scented waters and let them wash the blood and sweat from her tired limbs. She had dim recollections of a former life in a distant land where bathing had been something she'd taken for granted, a life of duty and honour. Oh, sweet Fontan...

Though leagues unmeasured and the ocean's deeps lay between this barbarous, ungoverned city and her family home, the latter was never far from Moira's thoughts. How many long years had passed since she sat in judgement on the transgressions of others? How many since she'd commanded men? How many since she'd sat in her hall with her sister Brigdha and her beloved daughter Rhidhana?

That had been before the darkness came upon her, the curse of evil which destroyed so much that was good in Fontan and forced her to pass a judgement for which she could never truly forgive herself... the rule of law had been her religion and yet to preserve her realm from tyranny and insanity she had set aside all that she believed.

She had taken the law into her own hands, not as elected Supreme Justice but as self-appointed Avenging Angel, and with her own blade had struck down that darkling sorcerer who through guile and deceit had sought to reshape a realm in his own twisted image. Oh the act was sanctioned, and the warrant of execution sufficiently vague that any case against her would have been in vain even ignoring her political connections and influence. But there was a line that no judge should cross and to Moira's mind she had done just that.

And how her family had paid for her arrogance. Their estates in Negev were long-since surrendered, their once revered name forgotten and all that they had worked to build was as dust on the wind.

There was a knock at the door of her lodgings.

"Who is it?" her mood lightened as she focus returned to the present.

"I'm here to give you your massage miss," the door opened and a young girl entered, probably no more than seventeen years of age.

"Help yourself to wine lass, I've a mind to soak a while longer" Moira waved to the nearby table where a jug of thick wine sat amidst half-a-dozen cups and assorted parchments. Uppermost was a map showing the lair of a particularly vile group of beastmen whom she'd despatched earlier in the day.

This was now here life, just a simple adventurer free to travel as she willed, the reach of her sword the limit of her justice.