Grancourt Family/Maggie's Meeting

Maggie's Meeting

(Beatrice decided that she hadn't seen her estate in Kif in a while, so decided to take an evening stroll to Kif to see how things were coming along. Initially wanting to find out about a rumour she had heard about one of her local friends, she spotted a sad face amongst some friendly one's...)

Erin Heads to Kif

A lonely dirt road led the way from Heen to Kif. The Red Haired Noble sat upon his horse galloping through the country side he knew so well. The wind whipped through his hair and dust stirred up from under the horse hooves.

Erin stood at the rear of the boat watching his true love get smaller and smaller as the ship made its way further from the docks. The sun was setting behind him. Never looking away from his true love, finally he could no longer see her. Erin lowered his head and his dreadlock fell in front of him. Grabbing the dreadlock and touching the fabric from his wife he looked up to the sky. The salty air overwhelmed him.

“Hey hey hey hey! Watch out idiot!” A merchant on a cart yelled at Erin. Erin’s horse made a swift lunge to the left to avoid colliding with the cart. Erin finally realized where he was, he was by the Lord’s office of Kif. Remembering the days when he ruled Kif in that very office. Those were the days, when he ran the Knights of Kif. Sadly he was no longer Lord of Kif. Erin made his way to his favorite pub in Kif. It was called the “Maggie’s Pub.” Erin put his horse in the corral. He enters the pub and sits at the bar. Ordering a tall glass pint of stout he lowers his head and his dreadlock fell in front of him. The piece of fabric from his wife was still on his dreadlock. He stared at it while enjoying his pint.

Walking to Maggie's

Beatrice had spent the last couple of days starting to get the administrative offices repaired and people back in their correct jobs in Heen. Since she had not been to Kif in a while, she decided to pay a visit to the people there, and see some of her friends.

Travelling was not great at the best of times in these dark days, but Beatrice was alone, so she hurried onwards to her estate in Kif. She was hoping to pop in on some of the nobles she'd gotten to know since becoming the Countess of Kif.

Stopping in a couple of the smaller outer villages she managed to catch the closing down of the days markets. Passing by one stall she heard a shout from the owner. Turning towards the voice she recognised Tiana Geerson and walked to the stall to greet her.

"Ah, Tiana! How's the business? Coins rolling in i bet? Your clothes are some of the finest i've seen around."
"Aw, well thankee kindly Beats, yew dont mind me a'calling yew that does ya?"
"Well, i suppose i have enough of your dresses to consider you a friend, so why not. Say have you seen Lyanda Moore around?"
"i do believe i 'ave missie, i fink she's already packed up, but she's probably headed to Maggie's liken i will be doin once i've packed me kit away"
"Well, i guess i'll be seeing you later then!"

As Bea wandered through the rest of the stalls she came to the residential part of the village, and noticed a house she recognised.
I wonder if George is still around? She thought, but carried on her way to the tavern.

On the outskirts of the village, not too far from her estate really, she saw the swinging sign of the inn. It had been a while since she had last relaxed a little and decided to pop in before going to her estate and see if George and Lyanda were there. She had heard about the death of Chezier Pickton when the undead passed through Kif and it had upset her. She wanted to give her condolences to his friends and hoped to see them tonight.

Stopping outside the door to check that she looked ok, she pulled open the tavern door and the room turned around to see who had arrived.

"Bea!" "Wow Beatrice, long time!" "Hey, when's Queenie coming back?" came voices she vaguely recognised. The last had belonged to George who she turned to greet warmly.

"I'm back only for this evening, but while i'm here we should make the most of it!" As she ordered drinks for her good friends, she asked them about Chezier, and if he had been found yet. George had an answer for her:

"Well, we fear the worst i'm afraid. A few of the peasants in the next town where he lives took up arms against them two hordes of undead that passed through a couple of days back. I think Chezier was one of them. Rumours are that 'e was last seen marching with the rest o' them filthy bodies..."
"Oh..." Beatrice's mood had turned sour, and as she glanced around the tavern she saw the long, bright red hair of a familiar face.

Excusing her self from the locals, she got up and made for the Celt's table, carrying a flagon of her favourite mead for him and herself.

"Erin, my friend! What a surprise to see you in Kif. I had wondered when you might pay a visit, Thrydwulf tells me how you used to love this place. Here, have some of my favourite...Erin? Are you alright? What's up?" Beatrice said as she placed a flagon infront of the man and sat herself opposite him.

Erin Tries the Mead

Erin sat looking at the fabric of his wife’s dress on his dreadlock when a fellow noble approached him and said.

"Erin, my friend! What a surprise to see you in Kif. I had wondered when you might pay a visit, Thrydwulf tells me how you used to love this place. Here, have some of my favourite...Erin? Are you alright? What's up?"

Erin looked up at her and said “I’m 27 years old, I haven’t seen my wife since I was 23. I would send for her to come out her and live with me here but it’s so dangerous right now. Do you have any clue what that is like?”

Erin grabbed his drink and chugged it down. Erin poured the flagon of Beatrice’s favorite mead for himself. Moving the now full glass aside he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a flask. He takes a swig and winces from the taste. “Celtic Whiskey, hard stuff tastes horrible but it does the job for a guy my size. Now to try your mead.” Erin grabs the glass and tastes the mead. “You have good taste Beatrice.”

The Conversation

Beatrice watches as Erin pulls out a flask of some sort from his shirt and swigs it down. Watching him grimace she realises that whatever is in that flask if VERY strong.

Erin smiles at her and says: "You have good taste, Beatrice"
"Well, some would say! You should see my husband. Dark hair, green eyes, not the most muscular, but his brain works 10 to the dozen"
"Where is your husband?" Erin asks.
"He's in Atamara - atleast i think he is. I haven't heard from him in a very long time...not since long before this invasion. I haven't had time to write to him either, so i hope that he's just busy."
Erin looks up at Beatrice and takes another swig of the mead.
Gulping hers down Beatrice continues..."I was banished from Carelia after only a few days in the realm for trading in the black market - not something i'm proud of - and we decided that i would try and find some other place to set my feet."
"So how long has it been?" Erin enquires.
"I think its been about 4 or 5 years now. I moved to Joppo first and we kept in touch. I wrote every day even when i became Duchess of the city, but since moving to Heen our correspondances have become less and less."
She takes another swig of her mead and asks the Celt: "What was your wife like?"

Beatrice's Song

Beatrice had been sat in the tavern with Erin for a while. She had told him the tale of her husband, why she had left. She had even told Erin about the man she still felt attached to even though it had been many years since they had seen each other, since they had felt the warmth. Erin had been moved by the love she felt still for a man she might not even recognise, a man she had learned from Thrydwulf who had entered a life of shadows without even telling her for fear she would come back and try and talk him out of it.

Beatrice broke the silence between them by asking Erin when he had learned to play the fiddle. Beatrice had heard the fiddle when she was younger, up in the North regions of Atamara before she met Laurie and came of age. She had always been partial to music. Her father had taught her to play the wooden flute when she was little, but she much preferred to sing.

"Erin, I would like you to listen to something important to me. This is the song i sang to Laurie the day we parted."

And quietly at first, the inn still bathed in the sounds of the merry drinking and happy talk from the peasants, unaware of the goings on further to the south. As she started to get more confident and louder, the whole tavern stopped to listen to her voice, sweetly silencing the atmosphere.

Everytime i try, it always ends with someone crying.
And everytime i cry, my heart breaks to see you flying
higher everyday, way up in the sky away from me.
Everytime i see you it makes my heart twist under twice.
And everytime you speak my head is caught in a vice.
Harder and higher, and further away i drift...

I hold on to you like i've always done,
never letting you go.
You mean more to me than my life itself,
if you just look round and see
The feeling you give me as you turn away
I'm drifting away.

All the times i tried i didn't realise i loved you,
and all the times i cried was cos i thought only a few
would ever get to hold you close.
All the times i saw you, my heart was close to right,
and all the times you spoke, my hope flew out of sight.
Nearer and closer towards you i drift.

I hold on to you like i've always done,
never letting you go.
You mean more to me than my life itself,
if you just look round and see
the feeling you give me as you turn away.
I'm drifting away.

My love, for you are more than me.
My heart, the feelings i wish you'd see.
My tears, the proof i hurt inside.
My words, spoken to you with pride.

I'm holding to you, like i've always done,
never letting you go.
You mean more to me than my life itself,
and you just look round and see
the feeling i give you as you turn my way.
I'm drifting away
I'm drifting away
I'm drifting away

As she finished, and wiped the tears from her face, she smiled a warm smile at Erin. Despite the sadness of the words, she knew that the real meaning of the song was that she, like Erin would always love the one they belonged too, no matter where they were.

"So who wants to buy me the first drink before i leave for Watto tomorrow morning?" Beatrice grinned at the stunned faces of the locals in the pub.

New Friends

Erin sat at the table looking at Beatrice. “I had no idea you could sing like that…. It was beautiful.” Erin sat for a minute and then reached into his bag sitting next to him. Pulling out a bottle and placing it on the table he says “Take it, its Celtic Whiskey. I don’t know if you’re a heavy drinker or not. Drink it, save it, use it for house guests or give it away as a gift. I don’t care just take it.” Erin stands up. “Well Beatrice, it was pleasure to speak with you but I must return to Heen.” Erin pulls out his knife and cuts a piece of his kilt off. A very small sliver of fabric, he leans over the table and his long body and arms easily find Beatrice. He hands the piece of fabric to Beatrice. “This is to remember me by and to mark our friendship from this point on. If you ever do return to your love and you happen to be in Abington or Eston. Show them that and tell them Erin is your friend. You’ll be treated like family.” Erin smiles and heads to the door. He stops and turns back to Beatrice. “Oh yeah, I was taught by my mother. The fiddle that is. I can teach you if you’d like.”