- 1 Etymology
- 2 Background
- 3 Stats
- 4 Titles
- 5 Commands
- 6 Battles
- 7 Tournaments
- 8 Personal Journal
- 8.1 December 1007
- 8.2 January 1008
- 8.3 February 1008
- 8.4 April 1008
- 8.5 March 1009
- 8.6 April 1009
- 8.7 August 1011
- 8.8 March 1012
- 8.9 June 1017
- 8.10 November 1017
- 8.11 December 1017
- 8.12 August 1018, Children Hearing Voices
- 8.13 September 1018, The Lumarcane Explosion
- 8.14 Gifts to All Men
- 8.14.1 26th December -- Dark Citadel
- 8.14.2 31st December -- Dark Citadel
- 8.14.3 8th January -- Dark Citadel
- 8.14.4 11th February -- Dark Citadel
- 8.14.5 15th February -- Dark Citadel
- 8.14.6 22nd February -- Dark Citadel
- 8.14.7 24th February -- Dark Citadel
- 8.14.8 12th April -- Dark Citadel
- 8.14.9 24th April -- Dark Citadel
Properly translated from the original classical tongue, the name Aoifa means "beauty", "pleasure" or "radiant goddess". Hence Aoifa's full name means "the shining light of the women of dark countenance".
Aoifa is the half-sister of Brigdha and Moira, a fact which explains their strikingly different looks. Tall and powerfully built, with red-black hair and a vigorous complexion, Aoifa was an adventurous child who has grown into a striking and fiery woman. Habitually dressed in the same simple black arming jack and hose as the soldiers under her command, she not only prides herself on facing the same hardships and dangers but on being the first into battle and the last to leave. Alebad Expeditionary Force is her unit.
In 1011 she returned to politics in the Colonies after a period in self-imposed exile, serving the realm of Minas Thalion as Ambassador and border scout. Later she was deported to Dwilight by the judge of Oritolon and there took service with Iashalur.
The following scores are based on anecdotal evidence.
|1008||Knight of Alebad|
|1009||Knight of Alowca|
|First Minister of Alowca|
|1011||August||Knight of Bode Batura|
|November||Ambassador of Minas Thalion|
|1012||February||Knight of Asurbanipal|
|1012||March||Knight of The Assassins|
|1013||March||Lady Elect of Minas Thalion|
|Duchess of Koolaris|
|Senator of Drenga|
|1013||June||Knight of The Assassins|
|July||Countess of Wirkfyr|
|November||Banker of The Assassins|
|2014||January||Countess of North Bakker|
|May||Knight of Alebad|
|June||Lady of Bode Batura|
|August||Lady of Maira Merani|
|Constable of Minas Thalion|
|2015||Banker of Minas Thalion|
|Judge of Minas Thalion|
|2017||June||Knight of Assassins|
|Margravine of Dark Citadel|
|Templari Militans||Imperial Dragoons||Harbrand
|3 + 15||C||59||68||55||45||52||77||88|
|Imperial Heralds||Imperial Dragoons||Edgar
|Templari Militans||Imperial Dragoons||Edgar
|0 + 1||SF||79||4||85||85||12||88||97||0||10.03.12|
|Kerant Volunteers||12 + 8||MI||54||3||45||20||69||81||66||187||100||17.09.12|
|Praetorian Guard||Imperial Guard||Burgolf
|45 + 6||SF||85||4||90||70||33||64||100||965||60||20.12.14|
A record of the battles Aoifa Dubhaine has participated in.
|June 7th 1009||Oritolon||Oritolon||20 troop leaders from 5 realms||10 gold||
Aoifa fights alongside her brother Cathal.
The Fall of Alowca and the funeral of Margrave the Drake, former General of Alowca. Aoifa heads north into exile.
Sanctuary amongst the Assassins.
Aoifa reveals the fate of Denariel's Mace to Lady Allyah in a letter, recounting her duel with Denarien Squeaks.
Aoifa returns from a brief exile in Iashalur.
Aoifa begins a building program to turn Dark Citadel into the most impregnable stronghold anywhere in the known world.
Aoifa reached the semi-finals of the Jousts at The Long Tournament in Outer Tilog, so named because it lasted 10 days longer than the traditional 9 allotted.
On 15.12.17 Aoifa laid the last block necessary to turn Dark Citadel into a Citadel (7).
Gifts to All Men
26th December -- Dark Citadel
Kane stood on the balcony of his manor. The sky was clear and the stars burned brightly. Suddenly another light caught his gaze. This was no ordinary star. It burned much more brightly, a red light perhaps a guide or beacon on this quiet night. Suddenly the light plummeted headed straight for him. He clearly alarmed by this strange light, drew his sword taking a defensive stance. The light did not envelope him as was expected but landed in the middle of the court yard. An enormous man, stepped out of a brightly painted vehicle which was pulled by horned creatures of some kind. They were somewhat familiar, but he just shook his head. As the creatures stood there eating the grain the man had given them, the source of the light became apparent; the nose (if you could call it that) glowed brightly with a red light. It lit the courtyard though there were no torches lit.
Beside the man in the courtyard, another man landed. He appeared to be riding a horse with eight legs! The man was dressed all in grey, with a hat pulled down over his eyes. The men embraced then started unloading packages from the brightly colored vehicle. Soon the men remounted their transportation and they flew away.
As they left Kane was sure he heard one shout “merry Christmas to all, now Kane go to bed!
31st December -- Dark Citadel
All through the lands, all was quiet. Not a sound could be heard. No slayings or beatings, not even a riot. The peasants swing gently from their gallows, creaking gently as the winter wind blows. Then, with a sudden roar, the wind whips into a frenzy, like a battlefield ever so bloody.
A great honking is heard, but on Aquilakah's eve, there is no one to disturb. A scream pierces the night, and one can hear the sounds of a fight. Joy has come to Aren, as Aquila comes to visit again! She rides upon a mighty wargoose, and upon the lands she lets loose, bringing instruments of torture and war, to good little Aren boys and girls, whether they be near or far.
However, those who do not appease the Twice-Slain best be wary, for in her wrath she is quite scary. Gifts of jam and bloody sacrifice will stay her hand, but those who fail will decorate the land! Blood and entrails as far as one can see! But however can this be? It is an Aquilakah miracle! The jolliest time of year! When Aren gives gifts, like destruction and fear!
Now it is Aquilakah Day, and the Twice-Slain must fly away! Until next year when she comes again, to celebrate in bloodshed and sin! Presents are opened and joy is had! YET ANOTHER YEAR FOR AREN TO BE BAD!
8th January -- Dark Citadel
Welcome to our new initiates. Please take a moment to light a candle and keep it before you.
The Shadow Cult lurks behind the Curtain of all tragic Plays, and laughs at all tragic seriousness.
Hold your hand by the flame, and see the Shadow upon the wall. Observe that it is not a thing of Dark, but instead takes shape at the meeting of both Light and Dark. It is a simple projection of much richer components.
And so the core truth is this! All the world is but a simple projection of a much richer reality, its weight as unknowable to us as the weight of your hand is to its Shadow.
Yes, Brothers and Sisters, we are each of us a Shadow of what lies beyond! We are but Actors, cast upon a great Stage.
As one recently asked of Darkness:
There is a prevailing notion among those who have not learned to see as we have, a notion of "good" and "evil," and I invite you to discard these in your considerations of Light and Dark.
As you study your Shadow, could you know it without Light? Or without Darkness?
Know that both are necessary to any Play, but as a single Actor you need not be shackled to either. The Shadows will guide you in your Role if you allow them.
I hope that is a fair introduction. If you have any questions, I will do as I can to answer.
11th February -- Dark Citadel
The streets of Alowca were crowded, the mobs baying for blood. At last, a young woman was drug from the dungeons, flanked by the Harbinger's guards. They held chains, and walked alongside Valentina as she crawled along, unable to stand due to her restraints. The crowd hurled stones, rotten food, and dung at the Halcyon noble. A woman screamed "My son died defending your lands, and this is how you repay his sacrifice!" Based on the attitude of the crowd, she was not alone in her rage. The crowds swelled and the hate was palpable. The only thing holding them back was their respect and fear of the Harbinger. Valentina endured this gauntlet for a mile, her knees raw and bloody, blood and dung running into her eyes.
The procession arrived at a small platform erected by the Blood Moat, and Valentina was bodily lifted and restrained on a wooden "X".
The crowd roared approval, and suddenly everyone was silent. The Harbinger emerged, flanked by his assistants, who were laden with his tools, various knives and items for cauterizing. The Harbinger quietly announced the sentence.
"Valentina Goldhammer, you have shared your art with the Dominion. I will now share mine with you." A small table was set up, and a leather bundle unrolled, knives glistening in the sun. Myles' s hand hovered over the knives, and he thoughtfully selected one. He held it aloft, inspecting it as a painter would inspect a brush. Satisfied, he approached Valentina and considered the first stroke of his masterpiece.
Myles reached up and began to peel the skin off of Valentina's pinky, and her screams rang out in the square. The Harbinger hummed along to the melody, a master artist enjoying his craft. Inch by inch, Myles flayed Valentina's skin from her body. Brands were applied to staunch any bleeding, but the Lord Flayer was truly a master of his art, and after an artfully long period of time, not a scrap of flesh remained on Valentina's body.
Valentina had run out of screams, but still writhed in agony against her restraints. Myles set down his knife and plucked a lemon from a bowl. He sliced it open, and squeezed it over Valentina's fleshless form, eliciting screams again. He bit into the sour fruit, and grinned.
"Nail her to the wall. Have the skin treated and sent to the Fashionista to be made into a garment."
Garm Tanngrisnir Crownguard
Ahhhh, I love the smell of flayed flesh in the morning.
Aoifa sat and wept when the messenger delivered the news from Alowca. How could Khagistar the Almighty suffer such evil to consume His sacred city? How much more must His people endure before the ancient prophecies were fulfilled?
"Are you alright ma'am?" Dietmund motioned the messenger to withdraw.
"I'll be alright," she straightened her shoulders and the fierceness of her eyes scorched the twilight, though her legs still seemed unwilling to bear her weight.
"I did not know Lady Valentina was a friend."
"She wasn't. My tears are for the City Dietmund, and for all those who suffer under the Dominion's yoke..."
15th February -- Dark Citadel
Thick, viscous fog sat over the Dark Citadel. Darius sat on the edge of a dry, cracked fountain, in one of the mid sized squares that dotted the city. He'd been watching the dark shapes flitting through the fog, wondering how to catch one. He figured he should take this opportunity to diversify the peasants in Ravossol, Baron or not. He could set up small towns of different peasants for each realm, and mix and match. He broke his frown to smile slightly at the thought. He could breed the perfect peasant for anything, big burly ones for the army, and plump ones to harvest for the AYMCA and BnB. He'd probably have to breed special ones for Jitney, he was quite picky about his ingredients. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He'd have to oust that damn Edain somehow, the idea would require access to the whole region to have enough room. In the meantime, however, he had to research the other realms' dungeons and justice systems. He had to reclaim his InJust title as well. He sighed into the mists. He really needed to stop making a mess of his titles, it was highly detrimental to any of his ideas.
"Sir? A package for you." Darius opened his eyes and sat forward. A messenger, baring the colors of his realm, stood nearby, gently holding a small package wrapped in brown paper, as if a careless move would cause it to blow his hands off. Darius looked at the package, perplexed. He hadn't gotten any mail that wasn't reports, or open letters to the realm in ages. "Who's it from, messenger? I don't need any gag gifts. The last time I opened one of these, three hundred hornets killed 6 of my men." The messenger grimaced, offering the package. "It's from Jitney Blue, Kepper of Hair and Fluff of Outer Tilog, Ambass-" Darius waved his hand, "Yes, yes, I know who you mean. This had better not be unpleasant, or I may have to vent my frustrations." The messenger looked mortified as Darius took the package roughly. With a scowl, Darius tore the paper off, and flipped open the top. Inside, one large blueberry muffin sat in the center, slightly off kilter. Darius's face split into a wide grin. "Messenger! Do you know what this means?" Darius's voice echoed across the empty square, "It means I'm going to be a father!" Darius jumped off the fountain, nearly knocking over the messenger, and nearly ran from the square. The messenger sighed, and thanked his gods he had survived the encounter.
22nd February -- Dark Citadel
Myles stood, admiring the rotting form of Valentina, and adjusted the cloak he had had made from her flesh. As ordered, a crowd had been assembled. The Harbinger was prepared to address his people. He turned to face the assembled crowd, and looked about, Valentina's distorted cloak based face also facing the crowd.
"Aren. I know. We have suffered setbacks. We have lost a few battles, and our enemies have thwarted our takeover of Abaka with corruption." Myles approached the crowd.
"THE COWARDS TRIED TO TAKE IRDALNI... However..." Myles paused. "However..." He said, and then he grabbed a man from the crowd, threw him to the ground, and stabbed him in the neck, repeatedly. After a moment of violent stabbing, Myles stood, covered in blood.
"I will not tolerate weakness. We shall not tolerate weakness. Oritolon ran a takeover for two days, and what progress did they make? NEXT TO NONE! AN INFINITESIMAL AMOUNT OF THE REGION, BARELY ENOUGH TO ENCOMPASS A LATRINE! In the meantime, their capital has fallen to Outer Tilog!"
Myles pointed to the corpse at his feet.
"That is Oritolon. A corpse, bleeding and twitching, unable to accept that is dead! The weak fools need four nations to match our might! FOUR! AND NOW OUR ALLIANCE WITH OUTER TILOG WILL OUTMATCH THIS PATHETIC GATHERING OF FEARFUL NATIONS. WE WILL REDOUBLE OUR EFFORTS TO GRIND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE COWARDS INTO PASTE. GO FORTH AND RIP EVERY MAN, WOMAN AND CHILD OF ORITOLON TO PIECES BEFORE THEY DRAG US DOWN INTO THE PILE OF FILTH THEY WALLOW IN. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD MOAT! BUILD THE BONE THRONE! LET THE COLONIES BURN!"
24th February -- Dark Citadel
Jitney read the letters from the Senate. He furrowed his brow, lifted Stephen's head from the bowl of plum wine it was submerged in, and then looked at the ground.
He let Darius take Stephen's hair and he turned, leaving the room.
Outside, Jitney looked around, making sure no one was nearby.
Complete silence enveloped him.
He knelt, and with a single finger, poked the earth.
A barely audible "oh well" seemed to issue from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
Jitney grinned and walked back to his room.
12th April -- Dark Citadel
Clouds of dark gasses swirled over the city, lit from within by arcing bolts of hellfire lightning. Brimstone ash rained from the skies. The commoners of Outer Tilog City danced naked in the streets, all colored a slick black from the detrius of the storm that fell from above. It was Friday.
Jitney poked his head out of the window of a building directly at the center of the maelstrom. It was oddly quiet here.
He squinted and held two fingers up to the sky, as if measuring.
"Three three spans. It's dilating!" he called over his shoulder.
"Wait," came an exasperated voice from inside. "Is that thirty three, or just three?"
Jitney cackled. "Darius, if it was thirty three we'd be seeing a lot more than ash and ash and skyfire!"
"Whatever. Get back in here.." A crash split the night as Darius threw the labor forecasting book into a pile of neatly stacked armor.
And then it started to rain. The peasants groaned and ran indoors. The grass died. And Jitney, emaciated from lack of food, stuck his head out the window to look at the sky. A rain drop struck him in the cheek. It left a dent.
"You really need to eat one of those pastries, Jit. You don't look so good." Darius poked at the dent, making Jitney wriggle away.
"Fine. But revive Stephen again make him put on the fertility helmet. I really just just feel better when he's wearing it."
24th April -- Dark Citadel
Jitney strolls about Alebad. Diplomacy.
"Halycon sucks! OT literally takes your refuse and hands you gold coins! Are you KIDDING KIDDING me! Why are you still here?"
A peasant looks his way. "We don't hate you as much."
"You bet your sweet sweet biscuits for don't. Come see me tomorrow." Jitney threw a scone and sauntered away.