Rea Family/Dancer/Hard Lessons

Roleplay from Anyte Luitolf

Anyte reads over the letter from Dancer while sipping her brandy. You're damn right you trust me, She thought to herself, You better, though you might not here in a few days. "Allova, be a dear. Have an announcement sent to the region. It will say that Sir Dancer is my new Steward." "Mistress, is that wise? You know most in the realm dislike him." "Since when have I cared about that? I need someone to take care of the bounty boards while I do my inspection travels. Oh, and take this letter I have personally written to him on the matter." "Of course, mistress, as you say." Sir Dancer, I recieved you letter, and I don't care about an Agyran being here. I have advocated for peace with them and still do. I know this is not why you invite him, but having an Agyran here without harm will show how dedicated we truly are to Ar Agyr. On a side note, I will soon have to leave to start my inspections so I will need some one that I trust to keep on eye on the peasants, food, and bounty boards the advies hunt from. Particularly the last part. Keep the advenurer's happy and they tend to be more useful. As such, I have appointed you Steward of Lastfell. Allova sighs as she heads toward the door to make the announcement, and have the letter that was sweet with Anyte's perfumes delivered.

Anyte Luitolf

Roleplay from Anyte Luitolf

Anyte walked down in the basement deep below the actual Bathory, not the tower. Few people could tell the difference because it was well hidden. He had been dragged here. The one who had brought the illicit substances to her home, to the Castle of Lastfell. She could hear the screams of agony billow up the stairs almost like smoke from a chimney in the middle of the frozen winter of the north. Something was off though. The screams didn't sound like they were of real pain, but more like a cacophony of demented pleasure. Confused, Anyte finally entered the door. "Matron, what in the world are you doing? I told you to torture him for the name of the sender, not whore yourself out and bare him children!" she screamed, angrily, as she burst through the door, but when she caught eye of the man being tortured. He was sitting there, bloody and burned, black and blue, cut and stabbed. Yet the man sat there, laughing, begging the torturer for more. Anyte could not make heads or tails of what was going on. She looked over at the woman holding the hot irons, "What is wrong with him?" she whispered. "Mistress, I... I don't know. He seems... to be enjoying anything and everything I do to him." The Matron said flabbergasted. Annoyed, Anyte marched up the scrawny man with rotted teeth, but he started laughing before she could speak. "I know what you want!" He divulged through short, raspy laughs, "And I'll tell you since this lovely lady showed me such a good time. It was a man named Darius, sending the drugs to one Dancer." With this information, she immediately walked over to the table and because to scribble a letter. Dispreputable Drugdealer Darius, As the Lady of Lastfell, and Ambassador of Thalmarkin, I hereby demand you cease your sending of illicite substances to my realm. We have enough issues without you adding in drugs into the mix. If you continue you do this, I will do everything in my power to ensure your enitre realm pays for your transgressions against my people. Armies, magic, famine, all of it will befall your people and it will be on your head. Anyte Luitolf Chancellor of Thalmarkin Ambassador of Thalmarkin Margravine of Lastfell She turned and walked back to the messenger. "You will deliver this back to your master, or I promise you I will find something don't enjoy so much."

Anyte Luitolf

Orders from Baelunìataisharà Blue

Dancer, Leave your estate now. And by Mordok, if you screw this up I will kill you myself, after letting Athena have her way with you. This region is vital to our realm, and we expect the income to come back to us to support the realm. Don't let us down! No pressure... Kisses! Baelunìataisharà Blue Queen of Thalmarkin Royal of Thalmarkin Duchess of Sandefur Countess of Rolbury Marshal of the Ursine Legion

Baelunìataisharà Blue

Event

Appointed as Lord Baelunìataisharà Blue, Queen of Thalmarkin, Royal of Thalmarkin, Duchess of Sandefur, Countess of Rolbury, Marshal of the Ursine Legion has appointed you as the new lord of Jedinchel. You should probably check out the region and estates and make sure everything runs smoothly.

Report from Dancer Rea

What ever you need, My Queen. Your will is my will, until the day the Lords walk this land again. On that day, I will leave you in peace. You'll need everything you have to survive. Thank you for this opportunity, I will take care of Jed to the best of my ability. ~Dancer Rea Sir Dancer Rea Baron of Jedinchel

Dancer Rea

Report from Anyte Luitolf

Dancer, You will be loyal forever, or I will sacrifice you to my lords myself. Anyte Luitolf Chancellor of Thalmarkin Ambassador of Thalmarkin Margravine of Lastfell

Anyte Luitolf

Letter from Dancer Rea

My Love, we've talked about this, at length. Must we bring it up to the Queen as well? ~Dan Sir Dancer Rea Baron of Jedinchel

Dancer Rea

Letter from Anyte Luitolf

Dancer, I built this realm with my own two hands. I will not see it fall so easily. Anyte Luitolf Chancellor of Thalmarkin Ambassador of Thalmarkin Margravine of Lastfell

Anyte Luitolf

Letter from Dancer Rea

Unless you plan to convince the entire realm to come to my way of thinking, Thalmarkin will burn with the rest. It has been that way for six invasions now, and it will always be that way until the island sinks below the waves. Would the Great Lords step forth today, I have have no doubt Thal would survive, but it will be brought to heel, just like the rest. I've grown..... fond of several of those that live here, which is why I will have no part of your destruction, and will leave peacefully rather then attempt to tear you apart. Even if my Lords commanded me, I will take their wrath over raising my hand against this realm. ~Dan Sir Dancer Rea Baron of Jedinchel

Dancer Rea

Letter from Anyte Luitolf

Dancer, I will give you one chance to retract your statements, otherwise, even I will be forced to turn my back. You pray to these daimons, yet even you yourself say there have been six invasions. If they are as all-powerful as you say they are, why are we even having this conversation? Why have humans triumphed and pushed them back every single time? I have gone out of my way to see you treated well. I have spoken up on your behalf. I have defended you when none else would. Yet you turn to a group of failures, beings that have lost time and time again to us, over the love I have shown you. It truly breaks my heart that would still see them above those of us that have welcomed you into our lives with open arms. I think you need to truly think about the things you say. I think you need to truly decide what you really want. Will you spurn us, those that truly care about you and welcome you with love and caring, for beings that literally tortured you? Anyte Luitolf Chancellor of Thalmarkin Ambassador of Thalmarkin Margravine of Lastfell

Anyte Luitolf

Roleplay from Dancer Rea

Autumn leaves danced across the road on occasion, a swirl of oranges and reds covering the dirt. The sun's warmth was warming his wolverine pelt, but it didn't reach down to his skin. Jax trotted obediently, carrying him closer and closer to Lastfell. I will give you one chance to retract your statements, otherwise, even I will be forced to turn my back. Jax slowed to step over a fallen log, jostling Dancer slightly. Some small rodent skittered to the tree line, the leaves crackling to mark its path. I have gone out of my way to see you treated well. I have spoken up on your behalf. I have defended you when none else would. He'd done it, this time. He'd only been telling the truth, why was she so mad? He'd left the tournament grounds early, just to get back to her. What would he say? What could he say? This was foolish of him - he should have just sent her a letter. No, a letter wasn't personal enough, he should talk to her in person. He wouldn't be able to throw the paper away in person though...he should have just sent a letter..... What was he going to say? Will you spurn us, those that truly care about you and welcome you with love and caring, for beings that literally tortured you?

Dancer Rea

Roleplay from Dancer Rea

The small wood gate to the Bathory proper was always guarded, and today was no exception. Two Bathory maidens stood at attention on either side of the gate, and Dancer knew there were at least four more on the other side, watching from various weapon holes. He stiffly slid off Jax, his side and buttocks protesting so loud he was amazed they didn't actually make a sound. He'd rode straight from Unger soon after he'd gotten her letter, Jax keeping a good brisk trot. "Ladies, if you could inform the Chancellor that Dancer Rea is here." Both of the warriors looked at him in mild confusion before one spoke, "Baron, we have standing orders to simply let you in, you don't need announced." The shorter of the two warriors was reaching to open the gate as Dancer replied. "This time, I do. Go and speak to your Lady. I...want to be sure she has time in between her duties." The maiden paused opening the gate, looking to the other woman. A silent agreement went between them, and the first woman looked back at Dancer, and nodded her head. "I will inform her you are here, please, wait here." The warrior slipped inside, leaving Jax, Dancer, and the second warrior alone. Dancer began to unsaddle Jax, without another word. Would she hear him out? What was he even going to say?

Dancer Rea

Letter from Anyte Luitolf

Kin, I demand to know who has been patrolling my region and arrested an official ambassador sent by Obia for discussions! This was put out to you all before she even arrived to leave Lady Mercy be, and will likely be viewed as greatly insulting! Anyte Luitolf Chancellor of Thalmarkin Ambassador of Thalmarkin Margravine of Lastfell

Anyte Luitolf

Roleplay from Anyte Luitolf

Anyte stood in her study after the arrest of the Ambassador, wondering exactly what to do about the situation. One one hand, she was an Obian, and all Obians deserved what happened to them, on the other she was an Ambassador sent on official business to conduct diplomacy. It didn't matter in the end, what was done was done, and all she could do now was write an appeal to the judge fur her release. It was just as she sat down with paper, quill, and a nice glass of her custom monster brandy that the maiden came through the door. "Mistress Anyte, Lord Dancer is here to see you. I know that you have said before..." she began, but Anyte quickly cut her off. "That ingrate dares to show his face here, in my own keep, after what he said, and without even apologizing?" The Bathory Maiden stood there, looking confused, no idea what was going on. Anyte had not had time to spread the news of him being unwelcome until he retracted his filthy, unwarranted words. "Mistress, should I send him away?" the maiden asked, knowing not to pry too much lest her mistresses ire fall on her. "No, no. I would say take him to the dungeons, but it pains a part of me to even think of that. Instead, have a detachment escort him to the top of the tower, and put him in the nice chambers meant for political prisoners. Tell him I will come and talk to him when I feel ready, and when he is ready to apologize and retract his words." The maiden went over the message in her head, ensuring she would not forget it, and ran down to get the women needed to carry out the orders.

Anyte Luitolf

Roleplay from Dancer Rea

While they were waiting, Dancer had been pulling at straps, freeing Jax from the riding saddle with several practiced movements. With a grunt of effort, Dancer pulled the whole saddle off, buckles jangling in the cool afternoon air. Jax snorted, and nudged Dancer's shoulder. Dancer looked at the quarter horse, and let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Clearly the hellhound could tell Dancer's stomach was a kaleidoscope of butterflies. Dancer reached out, scratching Jax's long nose. "Perhaps something smaller, Jax. You'll hardly fit in the halls if you stay a horse." The hellhound snorted, but stepped back a pace before shimmering out of focus for a moment. After a second or so, a large black great dane stood in the horse's place, huffing slightly. "Much better Jax. Take my pack, would you?" Dancer pointed at his ever present stained pack, discarded near the saddle. He'd worked hard on the leather pack, adding a large, padded handle to the top just for this purpose. Obediently, Jax padded over, his mouth fitting easily into the handle. The ritual sword hanging off the side of the pack bopped Jax in the nose as he picked it up, but settled out of the hellhound's way after a moment. Dancer had his plain cavalry sword attached to his belt today, but that never stopped him from bringing his ritual sword along; he just didn't feel right without it nearby. The small door in the gate to the Bathory opened, and the first guard slipped back out, but this time, she brought eight other Maidens with her. ----------------------- Brandilin was struggling to keep a blank face. She'd never been part of arresting a noble before, and she'd certainly not been in charge of the whole operation. After the Lady Anyte had given her orders, she had rushed to the barracks, grabbing Maidens she trusted along the way. They had stood in a circle, hashing out the best way to go about arresting the Executioner, worried looks across the board. They all knew Dancer, of course. He'd been in charge of the Courts until recently, and they had all witnessed his judgments a one time or another. Death was the only sentence passed for crimes in Lastfell, and Dancer had earned the name 'Executioner' many times over. They'd all watched him swing the sword, no remorse on his face. After a short debate, they'd made a rough plan, and gathered their weapons. Now they stood outside the keep, slowly circling their target. Brandilin tried to smile at the noble, but she was pretty sure it fell flat. "Baron, we will escort you. However, I have to ask that you come disarmed, and that you send the......dog, away." She held out her hand, attempting another disarming smile. She was careful not to mention what the Lady had said, not yet. His face flickered, and settled on a slight frown. Her fellow Maidens held still, bodies tighter then bowstrings as they held their weapon handles in loose grips. Would this be the moment they had to take him down? How many of her fellows would fall to his sword, or the dog that always seemed to be at his side? Brandilin waited for any move from the noble, any indication of where he would strike. Then he spoke, voice low and gravelly. "Jax," he unbuckled the sword at his side, and began to attach it to the pack the monster held, "Take this to one of my Brothers, and return here and wait for me when you are done." He stepped back from the dog, and the Maidens allowed it to walk past them, back down to the surrounding town. Brandilin dropped her offered hand. The dog taking his weapons was just as good, either way he was unarmed, and alone. Silently, her host fell in around the Executioner, a maneuver they had all practiced many, many times. "Come with us."

Dancer Rea

Roleplay from Dancer Rea

Something was wrong. He could feel the tension from the maidens as the group walked through the Bathory. They'd disarmed him, which they had never done before, and an eight man escort was seven more then he needed to find her office. Naturally, he'd neglected to tell them about the dagger under his shirt, but after that assassin had come after him, he'd been careful to keep a blade of some sort on him at all times. Up flight after flight of stairs they went, well past were he knew her office was at. He would have demanded an explanation, but every maiden in his escort had a hand on a weapon, and they walked in a tight formation around him. For now, he would just have to follow them. Why couldn't he just go to her office and speak with her? Why escort, all the show? He was deep in thought when they reached the top of the most recent set of stairs, mindlessly following the group through a doorway with a heavy oak door, and down a short hallway. It took three breaths for him to realize what he'd walked into. The first breath he had wasted, looking back at the doorway, instead of in front of him. Why did that door have a barred window? The second breath, he'd looked forward, seeing the end of the hallway open to a large room. The room was circular, with a small open area in the center. Iron bars ringed the area, the space beyond separated into three well furnished cells. Unlike most prisons he'd walked into, everything was lavish, the furniture, bedding, everything fit for a noble. He would have thought he was at someone's estate, if it wasn't for the bars. His thoughts lagged behind his footsteps, new questions fighting for his attention. Where were they? What were these cells for? Why was she meeting him in a cell block? Where was she? It was the third breath when understanding crashed down on him. The cell across from the hallway stood open, a stone faced guard waiting by the door, shackles in her hand. A handful of emotions flashed across his mind, shock, horror, and betrayal all making appearances before his old friend, anger, took over in a wave. How dare she? He'd trusted her, with everything he had. And now she meant to imprison him, like some common criminal. In one movement, he pulled his hidden dagger and spun around, slashing at the throat of maiden right behind him. Skin parted and a long gash opened from the maiden's chin to her ear. She stumbled back, clutching the wound. The move would have disappointed his infiltration tutor, had he seen it. It was one of the moves Dancer had been struggling to preform. Now he wished he'd practiced more. Steel rang though the space, as every one of the guards pulled a weapon. Dancer was two steps to the hallway with the door, before a sword flicked in front of him, inches from his throat. Brandilin had been ready for him, getting ahead of his escape. "Drop the dagger, and be civil, Baron. The Mistress Anyte has ordered you placed here, until she is ready to speak with you, and you are ready to apologize and retract your words." The moment Brandilin had made was enough for the rest of the escort to surround him properly again, swords drawn. Dancer's milky eyes flicked around the room, judging. He'd lost his chance, and with a sinking feeling, he dropped his dagger. It clattered to the floor, and the maidens moved in.

Dancer Rea

Roleplay from Dancer Rea

Lastfell (1/2) The night had gone well, for a little while. Dancer wasn't used to a soft bed, nor a thick duvet. In fact, he had explicitly forbade his estate servants from touching his bed at all, preferring a hard mattress and thin blanket; he dreamed less that way. Tonight, he had crawled under the covers of the strange bed thankfully. The maidens had not taken kindly to his attack, and his body was sore from head to toe from the beating they had handed him. His lip was busted, and one of them had got him square in the eye as well. Considering the pounding his face had taken, the morning would bring a black circle around his eye for sure. At first, he'd struggled to get comfortable at all, between his aching bones and the set of cold metal wrist shackles they'd insisted on locking to him. After a while the metal warmed up, his body relaxed into the soft bed, and he began to dream. He knew it was a dream in a matter of moments. A dark plain stretched before him, small fires burning here and there. He was on a hill, overlooking the carnage, blood still dripping from his sword. Dancer blinked, and cursed. He'd seen this one before, and it never ended well. His brother, Darius, had been sending him brownies with who knows what in them, to help him sleep past these nightmares. The last shipment had never came, and he'd been running on half doses out of his emergency stash for a while now. It seemed the brownies weren't much use the next night, at least when he was stuck on half rations. He cursed again, raising his sword, and spinning around. This nightmare was simple enough, at least. Something would come for him, and drag him into the darkness, kicking and screaming. When, were, what and how were always a bit different, but the setting and result was the same. His hunch paid off, as he parried a silent swing from a shadowy figure. This time, the monster was a shadow, humanoid in size and shape, with a long pointed arm it swung as a weapon. He had to keep a hold on his sword. Every time he'd lost his weapon, he'd been dragged off shortly after. Daemonic runes flickered as Dancer parried another strike from the creature. So, he got his real sword this time, it seemed. He'd been stuck with a dagger, his cavalry sword, or his whip, more then once now during this particular nightmare. None of those weapons were versatile enough to protect him properly, always failing him in the end. His ritual sword always held out for him, at least at first. Another flick, and he caught the shadow on its stomach, and the beast took a step back. Dancer wisely used this moment to turn tail, running headlong down the hillside. He'd tried to fight in previous dreams, and that had failed as well. In what felt like seconds, he hit the bottom of the hill, and began the trek across the plain. The small fires he had seen from the hilltop were much larger here, black smoke lazily curling into the dark sky. Now that he was closer, he could see the source of the fires, and he curled his lip. The smell was what always got to him here, the acidic, nauseating stench burning his nostrils. He'd seen piles like this, hundreds of times, but, even outside of his dreams, he'd never gotten over the smell of burning flesh.

Dancer Rea

Roleplay from Dancer Rea

(2/2) ​He picked his way though the piles, giving each a wide berth. Several iterations of this nightmare had the bodies grabbing at him, and he was not going to deal with that again. The shadow-creature was nowhere in sight, but Dancer could feel it still hunting him, like a cold breeze at his back. Pile after pile he passed, charred bodies, one after the other. Some faces he knew, Spearhold nobles, Riombara peasants, anyone in Thalmarkin, they all blurred by as he trotted through the wasteland. Dancer was checking behind him every so often, watching for the pursuit. Without warning, the shadow-thing reappeared, pacing out in front of him from behind a pile of corpses in with his advies' faces on them, already swinging its sword-arm at his head. By Akkan, he'd thought it was behind him. He wasn't ready, and his sword arm moved like molasses. Everything moved slowly, as if to chide him for his inattention. Fear shot through him, pure adrenaline as he tried, vainly, to parry the blow. The shadow bared down, its arm getting closer and closer to his head. He wasn't going to stop it, he was going to be killed, he'd have to suffer the darkness again. The last thing he saw before his skull was shorn in half was two green eyes glaring down at him. Then, the darkness came, as it always did. Darkness, then pain, lights, screaming, a stone brick wall, chains, blood, darkness, and more agonizing pain. He awoke, screaming and clawing at the blankets, shackles loudly clanging as he untangled himself from the ample bedding. He was in his boxers, on the stone floor near the bed. Cold sweat covered his skin, and he was shaking like a leaf, tears rolling down his face. The guard was at the bars, sticking a torch inside his cell, peering at the mess of bedsheets. "You ok in there?" She asked. Dancer was breathing heavily, trying to control the shaking. He'd instinctively curled up in a ball, and held his head in his hands. "I'm fine," he growled. The maiden stared at him for a moment, before rolling her eyes and returning to a chair on the opposite wall near hallway. Dancer didn't even try to sleep the rest of the night.

Dancer Rea

Roleplay from Anyte Luitolf

It had been a few days since Anyte had Dancer locked in the top of her tower, and she dreaded the confrontation she knew was coming once she ascended the stairs. Normally she would have had a man with his actions thrown into the dungeons, but that was not something she could bring herself to do to him. While his actions were certainly indefensible, they were expected and would be corrected. Anyte knew that the inevitable could not be put off any longer, so she slowly started up the stairs, her mind in careful thought along the way. Thoughts about how she was busy protecting his favorite men, she had even had to save one from dying the other day. Slowly Anyte continued up the long, stairway that led ever upward toward his room. Her dread of the situation grew with every step she took because she knew there was no avoiding what was coming. Dancer was like a feral animal, and everyone knew what happened when you caged ferals. It may have been expected, but it was needed, and she believed he would come out the other side a better person. He had to, she continually told herself, or the Queen herself may have him executed. By the time she reached the top, Anyte was moving much more quickly with anticipation of getting the initial confrontation over with. As soon as she could be seen down the hallway, the maidens on either side of Dancer's door jumped up attentively. The last thing any Bathory Maiden wanted was to be seen lazing about by their Mistress, particularly on this assignment. She approached the maidens, nodded, looked through Dancer's door, and was appalled by what she saw. He sat there, in little more than his undergarments, with shackles around his wrists. She turned to gaze at the maidens, eyes wide but didn't say a word and stared for a moment. She didn't need to as the thinly veiled rage on her face said it all. They knew that this was not a place meant for binding, that was what the dungeons were for. "Mistress, He attacked Brandilin when she brought him here!", the one of the left exclaimed. Anyte stood there, trying to figure out what the maiden was speaking about. "Who in the nether is Brandilin?!" she finally demanded after a moment. "Brandilin, the maiden who you sent to collect the prisoner!" she replied, the panic in her voice starting to rise. Anyte stood there, glaring at the maiden, clearly not amused. "So this, Brandilin as you call her, makes decisions that are higher than mine? The baron is shackled and beaten, neither of which were to be done. If I wanted that, I would have sent him to the dungeons!" She fumed slowly at the maiden. The mistress of the Bathory turned away from the maiden before she could answer and went back look through the bars in the door at the Baron of Jedinchel lay shackled, battered, bruised and all. She peered through the barred hole in the door, taking in the sight. This was bad, very bad, and would not go over well with trying to talk to him, but she had to try. "You, give me the keys to the cell and send for more maidens. No, get matrons. They should know more about proper etiquette and be able to follow my rules more." she snarled at the maiden without turning her head. Then she softened her voice a bit to a smoother tone, "Dancer, I need you to talk to me. Tell me exactly what happened. You look worse than when you came back from the west that one time. This, what they did, this was not what I ordered, and I need to know what happened.

Anyte Luitolf

Roleplay from Dancer Rea

(1/2) Three sleepless nights. He'd tried to escape halfway though the second night, of course. Once again, the lessons his infiltration tutor had taught him had come in handy. Shortly after the guard had fallen asleep in the wee hours of the morning, and after some trail and error with a fork he had palmed earlier in the day, he'd managed to pick the lock. He'd made it halfway across the room when a off-hour patrol walked in from the stairs. Trying to fight the newcomer had only made it worse, waking up the first guard. Two well trained maidens against one half blind, shackled old man hadn't been fair in the slightest, and he'd gotten a new layer of bruises and a second round-the-clock guard to show for it. They'd stopped taking the shackles off to let him change clothes as well, leaving him in his boxers rather then risk any other escape attempts. The third night was the worst so far. Several times he dozed off, living a new horror every few hours. Wolves chasing him across a field in the night, the Judge beheading him, cold smile on her face, his Lords bringing down their judgement, a limp Anyte burning on a stake in the background, a stray arrow lodging in his jugular, blood shooting from between his grasping fingers, his Brothers, both dead and alive, coming for his head, Duncan going for his throat, darkness curling around his body, Anyte being killed, over and over. They all ended the same, with the darkness and pain. When he was awake, he was plagued with tremors and covered in sweat. Morning brought little respite, exhaustion weighing him down like an anvil. Deep bags hung under his eyes as he sat at the small table, in a chair facing the door. Since they had brought his breakfast, he'd shook himself awake a half dozen times, and he hadn't even finished the eggs. Everything on the platter was tasteless to him, and although it did look flavorful, it simply turned to ash in his mouth. Bah, he thought, he wasn't hungry anyway. He pushed the tray to the other side of the table, slightly nauseous. The chair at the table was comfortable, with a small red velvet cushion on the seat. Dancer sighed, and picked himself up with what felt like every ounce of strength he had. Slowly, he moved to the foot of the bed, minding his bruised body as he lowered himself to the floor. The cool stones would help him stay awake, and he could lean against the bed's foot board to stay sitting up right. He'd been dozing on the floor, propped up against the bed, when noises came to him. A door, opening and closing, and his guards shuffling to attention. He didn't bother to open his eyes, conserving his energy for any opening he might get to escape this nightmare. "Mistress, He attacked Brandilin when she brought him here!" Mistress? Anyte. Betrayer. A storm of emotion surged past his exhaustion, a kaleidoscope of feelings, each vying for control. Anger, lust, betrayal, love, pain, and fear swirled within him. Anger won, racing to the forefront of his mind, as it always had for most of his life. She was speaking to the maidens at the door, notes of command peppering her voice. "You, give me the keys to the cell and send for more maidens. No, get matrons. They should know more about proper etiquette and be able to follow my rules more." Akkan, she was beautiful when she was angry. "Dancer, I need you to talk to me. Tell me exactly what happened. You look worse than when you came back from the west that one time. This, what they did, this was not what I ordered, and I need to know what happened."

Dancer Rea

Roleplay from Dancer Rea

(2/2) He opened his eyes, glaring at the door to the cell. He looked at her and felt something, deep beneath the rage. A small ball of warmth hovered, untroubled by the firestorm around it. He pushed the feeling away, sliding farther into blind anger. She'd locked him away, and her personal guards had beat him black and blue, all over one letter. Why? She knew his view, and she'd known for ages now. If it was such a problem, why she didn't just have him killed and get it over with was beyond him. "You didn't order this, did you, huh?" A thunderstorm sounded friendlier then the snarl coming from Dancer. "Your personal guard of harlots just chose to beat me, and lock me in a cage, all on their own? Then it took you three cursed days to realize?" Dancer's voice dropped into an even lower growl, "Don't Lie to me, Anyte, ever." Malice glittered in his eyes, and the exhaustion had been temporarily burned away by his seething rage. She'd taken advantage of him, and now she'd had him thrown in jail like a common thief. "I wrote facts on a sheet of paper, and you couldn't handle them. You finally realized what you have been dabbling in, and you chose to betray me, rather then accept the truth about this island." He knew he was being hurtful, and he didn't care. Pure, blind rage filled his thoughts, damned be the consequences. "You know Thalmarkin will burn, just like every other realm, when the Lords return to this land. I've told you, over and over. Every man, woman, and child that stands against the rightful Kings of this land will be cut down where they stand, and their bodies will be burned. Pretender 'rulers' like Bae will be strung out, sliced apart inch by inch, while the forces of the Netherworld watch and laugh." His words tasted bad as he said them, but rage and paranoia were choosing his sentences now. "I know this, because I've watched it happen, helped it happen. You had better get your harlots to kill me soon. I won't hesitate to kill you the moment I get a chance, you lying bitch."

Dancer Rea

Roleplay from Anyte Luitolf

Anyte didn't wait for the maidens to bring back their matron superiors. As soon as they had rounded the corner, she placed the keys in the door and opened it. Before he walked in, Anyte peered around the room looking for any discrepancies, but everything looked to be in place. The desk, complete with quill, ink, and paper, while largely untouched, was still there. The bed was still securely in the corner and still had all of its fancy sheets and blankets, though unkempt and unmade. It was clear that he had tried to sleep in them but for some reason had decided to sleep on the floor instead. That's where he was, where Dancer laid, staring at her largely unmoving. There was a dreadful, rage-induced on his face that she had seen before, but never when it was shot in her direction. The glare didn't phase her too much as it was completely in character for Dancer to jump to conclusions. Anytime someone said anything to him it was all or nothing. Unbridled wrath he would throw around like nothing, or he would ignore the issue. It was as if there was nothing in between, no middle ground to speak of. It was nothing like anything Anyte had seen in any other person in her life, save a few, and they all belonged to one group. The inquisitors in Obia'Seyla. They behaved that way, and they had been corrupted by Obeah. It seemed his daimon lords had done the same to him that their daimon queen had to them. The difference here, she knew, was that there was still a spark of humanity within him, she had seen it. Those as far gone as the inquisitors lose the ability to love, and despite his actions, that was still there in him somewhere, deep down. Anyte pushed her way through the doorway, closed it behind her, and trudged toward where Dancer lay on the floor. He had already barked at her through the door, but that didn't matter, his bark was always worse than his bite when it came to her and she knew it. It didn't take her long to undo the shackles around his wrists. For days he had sat in shackles without need, and it would end here. "I truly did not order this, Dancer, and I will forgive that little bitch comment this time given the circumstances. I am a Chancellor, Ambassador, and Margravine. That's not even counting the side things I have going on, things you know full well about. Are you really surprised it has taken me a few days to make it up here?" She asked while removing the shackles. It was during this time that the matrons finally arrived. They heard their mistress's voice from within the room and were shocked to see her sitting within it. The lead matron burst into the room, weapons drawn after what the maiden's had told their story, but Anyte simply raised her hand and brought them to a halt. "Wait down the hall for me to leave." "But mistress, he could..." Anyte cut them off, "If I have to say it again I'll take you all the way down to a common damsel." The matrons slowly slinked back out the door with confused looks on their face and traveled down the hall, but were careful to stay well within earshot while Anyte turned her attention back to Dancer. "I have never lied to you, so you can drop that right now, you are here because of a letter. Just not because of the one you think. You are here because of a letter from a man named Darius that your servants delivered me, already opened. He allowed this man to bring drugs into my region, my realm?" She could feel the anger start to build within her, so she stopped to take a few breaths. Dancer had been beaten enough, he didn't need her yelling at him as well. After taking a few moments to compose herself, she reached in with one hand to caress his face, while looking softly into his eyes, speaking almost in a whisper. "I know that you are addicted to them, but we will work through this and get you off of them. Then we will work through whatever other issues you may have. This is because I care, if I didn't I would just let you be and use you as a weapon. So, I am forced to present you with a choice." She remarked while and removing her hand from his face so she could place the well known, ornate, ceremonial dagger before Dancer. "You can kill me here and now, or you can agree to stay here and become clean because those are the only two ways you can leave here. You can't continue to live like this."

Anyte Luitolf