Dubhaine Family/Aibhlidhn/Roleplays/2021/May
| Dubhaine Family | |
| Fame | 40 |
| Wealth | 19485 |
| Home Region | Ashforth |
| Home World | East Continent |
12th May
Summer Day - Marpii
Aibhlidhn Dubhaine
"You have need of my services Ma'am?" the dark-garbed inquisitor stepped from the shadows of the Queen's private study, her cowl falling away to reveal an ageless face, at once beautiful and unsettling. She moved with the calm economy of a skilled hunter.
"My messenger found you then," it was a statement rather than a question. Aibhlidhn looked up from her correspondence, quill poised mid-sentence, the faint creases of a smile forming as she did so.
"More to the point, I found him. Or at least what was left of him," the inquisitor shrugged open her cloak, hand resting gently on the hilt of her wolfshead blade. Her gaze alighted on a crystal decanter, "May I?"
"Help yourself," the Queen settled her quill in its ornate silver holder, pushing her chair back and stretching the stiffness from her shoulders.
The clink of crystal was followed by the gentle glug of brandy being poured. A generously filled glass appeared on the Queen's desk.
"Your hand's as heavy as ever I see," Aibhlidhn lifted the glass and swirled its contents, watching the candlelight scatter through the dark liquor before taking a mouthful.
"It gets a lot of practice in Your Majesty's service," her visitor was already pouring herself a second glass, "So I assume you've heard of events in the South?"
"There's little else the great and the good will talk about," Aibhlidhn stood and pulled a velvet cord, summoning her valet, "But we should eat before discussing that. We may not have another chance for some months."
18th May
Summer Day - Verdomite
Emilia Delamoire
Emilia stands with her shoulders set, the signs of recent battle apparent in the wound on her left cheek, stitched together like a seam on a doll from cheekbone to earlobe. Platinum blonde hair was tied into a loose pony tail behind her shoulders and her. She supported most of her light weight on her left leg, the bandages of her right hip and thigh hidden behind fresh black cloth wrapped around her slender frame like a black clad mummy.
They will not see any weakness; she resolved herself. The weight on her shoulders was apparent, but so too was her determination. With clenched teeth, she minded her place in the line of commanders who she was surprised to see began to represent more females than usual. Coming from a matriarchal family from Shadowdale, she had been used to the Patriarchy, and had forever suffered against it in Vordul Sangunis and the domineering will of its culture.
No more.. the thought.. no more.. but the thought was also deflating. She had tried to unite a realm behind an ideal only to have it blow up in her face, and it had come time for her reckoning. Would her convictions be the fuel for enemies, or would it bring her salvation?
Only time would tell. Emilia stood with resolve, ready to face whatever was sent her way.
Elwin Silvertounge
The tired sun sunk past the horizon, and gave its last moment of light for the day. The wind pinched Elwins’ tender cheeks as he looked across the hillside upon his hardworking troops. The troops haven't had a break in days and it really started to get to some of the men, despite this they still worked hard to please their leader. Originally Elwin planned to meet at vondezzessor with another group of adventurers, but from the faces his men were making along the road Elwin decided to return home. The Icy Moon reminded Elwin of the long week he's had, before returning home he made a stop at his favorite local tavern, the Red Boar. The bartender gave a welcoming grin to Elwin as he finished polishing the last of his glass mugs. “And what can I do for you today fine sir.” The bartender asks. “I’ll take your finest whisky. Glug Glug Glug the glass slides across the splintered table “There you are sir,” Elwin downs the drink in just one gulp. His hand slides across the table collecting splinters along the way. He can feel the bark as if it were yesterday, he still smells the flowers tickling his nose, he could still taste the warm breeze jaunt down the field. He could feel the wood against his skin, he could hear the crunch of leaves against his naked feet. He could hear the giggles of his brothers and sisters. All he wanted to do as a child was to roam the empty lands and go on quests with a mighty group of adventurers, but alas he's slumped against a stool at a bar drinking his sorrow away. “That’ll be all thank you” and with that Elwin flipped him a coin and was off his darkened skin merely blended in with the night. And with his boots trudge across the road he began to head home.
Summer Evening - Verdomite
Emilia Delamoire
There was little time for rest during the day, as the local commanders tried to negotiate peace with the loyalist faction of Verdomitian small folk, and less sleep at night as they weathered the attacks from the rebels. The hours became a blur, it had been a couple of days but it felt like one endless night.
The attack this evening was less organized that before, and along with the tip off from a loyalist, the Shaman Seiðr was able to organize a defense to minimize casualties on both sides. Clever traps and diversions, she never could understand how the Shaman worked, garnering insights from root and twig, divining secrets from the wind.
Emilia walked across the camp, refusing to limp or grimace even though she still bore the jagged wound from right thigh to hip. Pain was reality. It was the only way.
Commanders were gathering people to assist in repairing the fortifications, nobles working among peasants, showing the realm that we could once again unite and return to a sense of normalcy. Three people looked to lift a post for the palisade, and though Emilia knew she would be of little assistance with her small stature, she came forward to help. Placing her hands beneath the post, she braced with her good leg, helping to raise it little by little.
It kind of reminded her of being younger, working among others, a feeling of camaraderie. Something she had lost as she grew older, her mother telling her she must be separate from those beneath her if she were to ever rule. They cannot see you as friend, they cannot see you as human. To rule, she said, you must appear infallible. She knew that her mother lied to herself, as she had taught Emilia to lie to herself, to avoid the reality of an abusive household where her father's rage held dominance.
But maybe she could change.. maybe.. these people knew better than her mother.
The log inched up little.. by little.. and then not at all. Heavier and heavier, Emilia grimaced, looking to the others with shared panic as the log started to fall back. What she saw was that it was not shared panic at all, but the others recognizing who she was and having let go. As the log began to fall backward Emilia could only dive to the side into the mud, the sudden warmth on her side signaling the tear of her stitches as the bandages began to soak through in red.
"Bitch" the closest man spit down, his spittle misting on her cheek as she turned her head.
"No'ne wants yer help, we shuld just kill ye now." the boldest threatened, the other two coming closer. It was only thanks to a Noble troop arriving with a wagon full of additional logs that the trio dipped their heads and got back to work.
Sighing a breath of relief, Emilia reached up and wiped the spit from her cheek with the back of her hand. Stiffly rolling over to her side, she put her good knee beneath her and looked up, trying to find some handhold to get back to her feet.
Robert Von L
I was arriving on my horse to Verdomite when I was stopped by a group of peasants.
"Hey you," the peasant yelled.
"May I help you?" I asked
"I think your the guy who robbed us," accused the peasant
"What no," I said angrily.
I was getting increasingly colder by my hard metal armor covering my entire body. I was tired, annoyed, and my troops were just about to fall asleep.
"You know what? I don't like the way you are talking to me," yelled the peasant while looking me dead in the eyes.
"Just piss off already I have somewhere to be," I said while pulling out my sword sensing a battle is about to come. All of a sudden the peasants started charging.
"Men get ready," I yelled but my men were slow to react, and were quickly over whelmed. I hopped of my horse, and charged at them with my iron tipped spear. I slashed and stabbed with blood going everywhere. The peasants realized they were out numbered and out geared and ran away.
Aibhlidhn Dubhaine
As Aibhlidhn suspected, the peasants avoided approaching the ordered ranks of Agyrian warriors, grim-faced hardened veterans of the Western Wars and numerous campaigns against the Necromancer's legions. It was for the best as the Queen had no desire to spill the blood of craftsmen and their apprentices over a dispute which should never have been allowed to reach this stage.
She knew she should have intervened when the Vorduls went to war with the Obeah, two equally incomprehensible cults picking at each other's flesh when the real enemy was building its forces in the Deep South, there in the Rines Peninsula. Instead she'd turned her attention towards the greater threat, hoping the two groups of incomers to the northern plains would settle their differences and be the stronger for it. That was the Northern Way. The Agyrian Way. Sadly both seemed to have faltered. And then the hordes had struck...
"The fools have courage," Captain Caedberga smiled wrily, the experience of many decades informing her steely gaze, "but sadly little sense of discipline. Look how they run at the Vordul lines like wild dogs upon a bear. I see a few veterans here and there but scant enough for a squad, let alone a company. We would make short work of them."
"Aye, we would," Aibhlidhn sighed, signalling her companies to return to their tents with a wave of her sword before sheathing it. Her bugler Alfrith sounded the recall, the refrain soon being echoed by his counterparts in the other Agyrian companies. Only the Black Guard seemed to hesitate, the ties of kinship with their former countrymen balanced against their newfound loyalty.
"I'll give the lads leave for the evening if that's alright Ma'am," Caedberga shouldered her fusil, the flintlike wood burning red as the sun slipped below the horizon.
"Yes, of course," the Queen replied distractedly. She had business to be about herself if there was to be any hope of resolving the Vordul's fracture and securing the shores of Lake Salaman against the approaching storm, "I have business in the Vordul camp. Aelwyn and Djieves will accompany me so there's no need for a bodyguard."
"Are you sure that's wise?"
"Aye, I think so. But if I'm mistaken Sir Filippo will know what to do," her spycatcher was a taciturn man, shrouded in mystery and rarely seen at Court. If anyone were foolish enough to make an attempt on the Queen's life, he'd make sure it was their last mistake.
"Understood Ma'am," Caedberga retired to their encampment, leaving the Queen to watch the unfolding carnage. So much blood spilt and to what purpose? But as she watched the hopeless peasant charge evaporate beneath the withering fire and skillfully wielded blades of trained men-at-arms Aibhlidhn's imagination was transported back to a time of greasy black grass beneath a smouldering sky and the shriek of daimonic weapons setting the wind on fire. There was a fine line between folly and necessity.
When the bloodshed ended the carrion birds swarmed the night sky, a black shroud billowing in the starlight, hawking and carping with the joy of a well set meal. She stood there foe a long while reflecting on the cruel fate of men before turning towards the Vordul encampment, her retainers falling in silently behind her.
