Dubhaine Family/Aibhlidhn/Roleplays/2021/May

Dubhaine Family
Fame	40
Wealth	19485
Home Region	Ashforth
Home World	East Continent

Clan Dubhaine:

• Aednadh
• Aibhlidhn
• Aoifa
• Brigdha
• Cathal
• Ciarghuala
• Etain
• Moira
• Rhidhana
• Scein
• Threiginion

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.

19th May

Summer Day -- Verdomite

Emilia Delamoire

Breaking Point

Two of her female archers carried her on a stretcher after being next to a cart, pale as a ghost as blood drained out her thigh. Too stubborn to ask for help or give into the pain, Emilia had defiantly stood, slowly edging her way back to her tent when her leg gave out from under her and she fainted from the pain.

Would he have scorned her for that? To be fair, she didn't give into the pain.. the pain just.. took over. She wasn't weak.

I'm sorry.. I tried..

Her head lolled to the side as tents and bodies blurred by, her eye lids trying to fight the weight of fatigue, the coal makeup clumped in the corner of her eyes and making it sting to blink.

"Get Demona, her wounds are split." Commanded one of the women carrying the stretcher.

"What do you mean, dead? Damnit! Well, find someone, and get some water boiling!"

There was a thud and Emilia's vision jerked to the side as she was unloaded onto a makeshift bed in the tent flying the Black Fist of Delamoire. She heard some shouting for a moment, and then silence. She was jarred to consciousness again as a hand firmly pushed her shoulder to turn her body as they sheered through the leggings and black wraps of clothing. She saw a hint of orange in her peripheral and then the smell of burning flesh, which oddly came before the pain registered in her mind. Like being flung into ice cold water, Emilia was awake and her screams were unable to be contained.

She blacked out again, after, the inside of the tent imprinted on her mind like an oil painting. She saw the deep blue of her house colors, splashed with blood and dirt. She saw herself surrounded by strangers.

When Emilia awoke again she was on her back and in a black cotton slip, her skin smelled of lye and a tea boiled on a low fire at the center of the tent.

"You're not new to this." came an unfamiliar voice, Emilia turning to look at the older brunette woman with sagging shoulders and wise blue eyes. The eyes glanced to her arms, Emilia's own eyes following and feeling naked against the scrutiny of the scars on her forearms. Scars, which were just a few strokes of a brush compared to the lines on her back from whipping, but each of the scar on her arms carrying a significance of her blind devotion. She pulled her arms in, wishing she could disappear to avoid the scrutiny of the healer at her bedside.

"I suffer to find my way, through pain I find absolution." she related, knowing the words too well.

"And is this... the way.. have you found it?" Asked the woman flatly. It was a fair question, when it was laid out like that.. one that Emilia was wholly unprepared for.

"No.. it wasn't supposed to end this way..." Emilia reflected with an unusual show of self to the strange woman, a weight becoming present on her chest as considered her position.

"My Ma always said things happen for a reason.. and there are people, people that are with you still." consoled the woman as she stood from her stool, starting to clean up bandages soaked in Emilia's blood from the ground next to her bed.

The absurdity of it all hit Emilia and she barked in laughter. Short, at first, and then louder in an even tenor of sincere humor which slowly twisted and contorted with emotional turmoil and pain.

"WiIiITH ME?!" she curled her left hand into a fist on the sheets of the bed, struggling to a seated position as she pointed as the healer.

"Please tell me you filthy witch, where are my people? Huh? Are they hiding under the bed? Are they outside, preparing to sing my praise?!" Emilia reached out, yanking the bandage from the healer's hands if only to try and obstruct her progress.

"There are no "my people", there is the same Patriarchy as before. I shook their seat of power and questioned their worth, and all the men got together and decided my fate. Where is the Wizard's long line of punishment? Why is the Shaman not on the chopping block? Why is that the men are Dukes.. and a f*cking Saint.. and I'm rotting in a tent as the gods damned Crimson C&#$!" the ending of her cussing was cut off by the sound of Emilia upending a bowl of surgical tools that was next to her bed.

The last outburst had made the healer decide better than to stay, and she quickly hurried out of the tent.

"There is no we.. there is only me." Emilia consoled herself, collapsing onto the bed again.

Impi Wolfvern

Impi had arrived to Queen's Aibhlidhn encampment embarrasslying. It was a day an a half before he made. Though when he made it and entered the encampment several Vordul nobles had already arrived. More than he expected though a takeover of the region was also in the process so it made sense.

"Once again I'm sorry for being late the scouts lost track of where to go." Queen Aibhlidhn her 4 nobles had awaited patiently for his arrival. "I take it you've already heard Sir Craglan speech. It's not an uncommon feeling amongst my people they do harbor negative views of him. And he hold the holy city Wudenkin within his pockets with the demands. This is where I hope your mediation will be able to help us both get what we want."

Eriol Blackdagger

Riding slowly into the camp of the Queen, Eriol looks forward and sees the Sanguine Saint entering the encampment. Giving the reigns to a soldier, Eriol unhorses and looks ahead, he nods approvingly, as his courier’s horse is tied up as well. Meaning that his initial letter to the Queen has been delivered. Taking a deep breath, Eriol walks forward, silently praying that this whole thing works out.

Summer Evening -- Verdomite

Aibhlidhn Dubhaine

"I recall these being treacherous lands," Aibhlidhn signalled to her squire to help the Sanguine Saint from his horse, "at least they were when I used to hunt Daimons here. They seemed to have a fondness for the Lake. And the Lake had a fondness for them."

The Queen was dressed in an elegant russet robe of finely tailored linen flowing over a long, fitted, trailing gown of cornflower blue silk. Somehow her hems were unmarred by the muddy ground and she seemed to leave no footprints behind her, gliding effortlessly as she approached her sovereign guest.

"Ah, and I see Ambassador Eriol is not far behind," her eye alighted on the young diplomat, "come my friends, let us dine as you must both be hungry and tired from your travels. Djieves!"

"You called Ma'am?" a stentorian voice announced the presence of a tall, solemn faced retainer clothed in black and dark grey livery.

"Have dinner prepared for three. Something hearty for the gentlemen as they've travelled far, and a bottle or two of the Poryatu Reserve. We have much to discuss."

"Very good Ma'am," the servant disappeared towards the camp's open air kitchens without fuss.

The Queen's pavilion was not unduly distinguished compared to those of her noblemen, marked predominantly by the modest pennants to either side of its entrance flap bearing respectively the distinctive Dubhaine Red Saltire with its upthrust mailed fist, and the Bear Rider of Ar Agyr with his raised cudgel. Inside it was a little larger, subtly lit by oil lamps and furnished in the practical style of a knight errant: campaign chests, a trestle table large enough for entertaining or spreading battle maps, and a half-dozen plushly upholstered chairs in various homely colours, each with folding legs. A flap to the rear suggested private sleeping quarters.

"It's always the chairs which are the biggest nuisance to pack," she signalled for them to sit as she attended to a pitcher, pouring them each a goblet of honeyed wine, "but I find guests much prefer them."

She handed the two men their drinks and then sat facing them, sipping from her goblet, amber eyes sparkling in the warm lamplight.

Eriol Blackdagger

Upon coming closer, Eriol hears from the inside, "come my friends, let us dine as you must both be hungry and tired from your travels. Djieves!" Taking that as an invitation, Eriol enters, and bows first to the Sanguine Saint, then to the Queen. “Your majesty, it is a pleasure to see you again.” Taking the glass from the servant, the diplomat takes a seat, an equal distance from the Sanguine Saint and the Queen. “I am deeply grateful to you for granting me an audience, especially so far from your home.

Craglan Mejor

Craglan murmured a few quiet Words of Power to enhance his voice, then cupped his hands on either side of his mouth. His voice then seemed to boom with physics unknown by the common Noble or the common man.

"Lad Hendrick! It appears no one wants you! I wonder how this could be? Do you not ponder upon why the Queen has not offered you a life in Ar Argyr? You are untrustworthy, a self consumed Waverer, a detriment to a realm with progress in mind. You are a fit warrior and little else. Everyone seems to know! I hear you have BIG WORDS to say regarding my position, that I have something to gain by this request for you not to return. In fact I do gain in your absence for I never have to smell the foul stench of your wavering and betrayal, your sycophantry and ego that can barely fit in the Sanguine Citadel, a place you do not deserve to be... Never did. You only inherited Wudenkin as a last chance hope when Invernus left. He had to give it to someone... I too was given a Dutchy which I lost when imprisoned while fighting our eneies! When I was released, all my positions, my estate, was taken from me and given to Impi. I didn't say a word in protest though it would have been my right to do so. Your will is as week as they come...

I don't suppose it occured to you, Duke Coward, that everyone knows who you really are and what you really stand for. It has reached all of our ears your plans to flip all the cities of Vordul and ruin the place entire, a voice you cast BEFORE your BANISHMENT for breaking the laws, lawfully put forth before you cried out to The Gods That Listen (to you). It's over for you Hendrick. You've no allies here, but for every fallen Paladin there is a chance to regain the sanctity of your Oaths.

There is only one way you'll return to Vordul and that is at the same lowly level that I also inhabit. You will be Sir Hendrick and that is ALL. You will never be trusted, never be honored, never be heard be neither Duke nor Lord whilst yet we live. Everyone here hates the very ground you touch. You say Emelia ruined the realm!? You must be blind, daft or both. Has your horse kicked you in the head or were you always a fool? How the Great Queen can stand your company is flabbergasting to me. I suppose it shows her accomplished temperance and diplomacy.

Fool Hendrick: Ar Argyr cannot hold Wudenkin.... The streets will fill with rebels against you for they know where they truly belong. The tax on food that Wudenkin demands will strain all other regions, and the distance from the capitol will make holding the city very tough indeed.... You've lost. And there is nothing now that you can do for the picture has become clear to all: You're awful...

Emelia has nothing to do with anything. The nobility that slept woke. A thing that occurs in The World. You seem incapable of working with others, your voice has shown this time and time again, for if it was not your idea, it was a bad idea... That's the voice we heard from you. And despite your wavering voice of contempt, it seems you are an accomplished whiner! I guess each man has their gift...

Great and Temperate Queen: I'm sorry if I interrupted your meeting, but the Coward Hendrick throws insults that cannot go unchecked. I am mystified by your solidity and would bow to you with courtesy at any time. I find you quite the marvel. Good luck with securing a place for He Who No One Wants."

Craglan dropped his hands. Scowled at the top of the mountain, and poured a heavy glass of wine which he drank in a single gulp before turning Frost towards the rolling countryside of Verdomite to find Frost a mountain goat for a snack.

Impi Wolfvern

Impi was simply dressed in modified clothing made for battle to suit more formalsettings. He turned his padded armor into a formal military dress. Into the shape of a vest the armor was and with a pauldron on his right shoulder.he was always to defend himself incase he needed to.

He had greeted the Queen and followed her the pavilion. He was impressed for this wasn't something he was used. It was modestly done and still not of the normal places his accustomed to. "This is quite nice pavilion I hadn't seen one of these before." She had offered him drinks and he gladly accepted. He sipped it slowly not trying to appear tired from the journey or show the stressed he built from out circumstances build back home.

"Ahh this is agood drink My Queen sweet and fulfilling." He placed it back on the table. "Its nice to finally meet you in person. Your as lovely as they say and more. Including that your a very serious person not to messed with." He took a deep breathe " this way I asked Ambassador Eriol to come. He is better in these situations and I do not wish to rub toes wrong."

"This is a delicate matter for us, and it is I come best prepared with the right person"

Eriol Blackdagger

After taking a second deep drink from the wine, Eriol smiles and says, "Just as good as when I visited your magnificent capital. It seems so long ago, and almost in another lifetime."

Setting the glass down, Eriol's demeanor changes to one of concern. "As Im sure you are aware Your Majesty, the forces of Thalmarkin are on our border as they have stated a rather ridiculous demand, concerning the election of a man who did not run for election. Concerning such, and forgive me as my information might be out of date as I was retired until recently, but I do believe our defensive alliance is still inforce. Is this still correct? Of course, I would not wish for any hostilities but if it were made known of such an agreement, it would do much to dissuade our warmongering neighbors to the North."

Brick Rat

Brick orders her men to set up a small tent.

a sign hanging on the door says ¨Rat´s Spells and Curses¨

Soldiers stand around the entrance.

• 7 men sit around a fire cooking some foul-smelling meat
• 3 men sharpen their weapons and recount stories of home
• A man sits vomiting into a bucket while his 2 friends comfort him
• 2 men check the supports of the tent merrily
• 4 Men count the rations and clean the dishware
• the youngest of the troops, a boy at most 16, stands in the crowded streets banging pans together in hopes of driving customers to the shop

Aibhlidhn Dubhaine

"I too have heard the drums of war beating in the northern wastes," the Queen set her cup on the table, "and I have made my intentions public. King Dancer knows I recognise Lord Impi's sovereignty and that a treaty exists between us. He knows he will have war with me just as Zatar did when he made war on Grehkia."

As she spoke Aibhlidhn turned the dark copper ring on her left hand with her thumb, hither and thither and hither again, and as she did so a silence fell across the pavilion. A silence so deep that the outside world seemed to recede, a dream barely remembered with the breaking dawn.

"This ring was forged in the eternal flame when the First Necromancer fell," the Queen slipped it from her finger and held it aloft, "Scholars call it the cruel ring for the innumerable tears shed in its making. I wear it as a reminder of my duty."

Aibhlidhn slipped the ring back on to her finger and let the silence linger. They did not need to know the cost of wearing that cursed heirloom.

"Hendrick will not serve alongside Emelia and Emelia will not serve alongside Hendrick. The pride of the one is matched in the other. You must choose my Lords which poison to keep and which to send away."

Eriol Blackdagger

Eriol notes the ring and the Queen's emotional change when she touched it. An expression of concern breaks through the practiced calm of the Ambassador. Realizing he has slipped, Eriol regains his composure. "Your Majesty, as I dare not to presume with the Sanguine Saint in my presence, I would say that there could be a way to have them both stay in the same country. Simply put, Emilia acted under the law, and with the approval of the former Sanguine Saint. No matter what those in the heavens wish to believe or not, that is the fact of the matter. For her to be ejected would set a very dangerous precedent. Namely, that any Duke upset with the current status quo could simply run to another nation, putting us in mortal danger, just so he can get his way. Also, if Emilia would be banished, many would leave the country, not because they worship the fallen Emperor, but out of self-preservation...as they could be the next on the block, as it were.

That all being said, it would also do us no good to have Duke Hendrick fail to come home as well, for the reasons I told you in my recent correspondence to Your Majesty.

Certianly, the Duke must be willing to be flexible. As Im sure that My Lord is willing to be."

Craglan Mejor

Craglan saunters up before the young boy banging pots outside the tent labeled "Rat's Spells and Curses" with curiosity.

"Snake oil, no doubt," said Craglan as Frost lay down allowing his master an easy off. Craglan f*cked the awning of the "shop" with anticipation of what lat beyond.

....after Craglan figured out his interpretation of an awning... ... he entered 'Rat's Spells and Curses'. There the pirate Dame stood, an eclectic myriad of style of silk and linen from looted booty adorned her form. She was both repulsive and attractive and this raised the brow of the Ghost of Winter. Brick's rapier was cheap, as cheep as everything in view. There in the 'Shop' hung every manner 'reagent' that ever was heard about: goblin ear, snake skin, scorpion venom; the litany. Craglan chuckled.

"You have a long way to go before you truly understand "Spells and Curses" young friend Py-Rat, though your collection is impressive. Obviously you've seen some lands and surfed the oceans that enclose them. I am Craglan the Cold Drraad'da Mejor, Awakened Beneath the Mountain, Wizard of the Frozen Blood, The Ghost of Winter and the Rider of Frost. Feel free to pick any of the prior when addressing me for to me they are all the same."

Craglan found a chair with a price tag on it in the corner. The half broken thing might support his weight. He chuckled as he flipped it over to sit. The woman was the thing of carnivals; a marvel of quirks. She sat on a cushion that served as her bed, the poor Noble she was, but clearly no longer just a pirate.

"I've grown intrigued by your story 'Dame Brick Rat' and you owe us a tale... Give us a tale of adventure of the High Seas and how came you here? Now? to the Continent of Bueletura in the Lands of Vordul? Or if not a tale, tell me what oddities of 'Spell and Curse' you carry here. I see snakes in a bottle! But that is Magic in its own way. Truly it is everywhere, and only those with the Wit can see it, only those with the Gift can use it.

Brick Rat

Brick sits at a small table in the shop. She is reading a spellbook. Around her a multitude of random items. There is a small shelf of jars behind her.

Brick reilizes that she isn't alone and quickly puts her book down, ¨Hello sir what brings you in today? If you don't mind telling us what are you looking for today, we have a variety of wares including crystals with varying effects, exotic meats, curses on your enemies, potion ingredients, objects that can channel titans, useful elixirs, anything really. And for a special offer everything on sale to celebrate the freedom of the region.¨

Impi Wolfvern

"Ambassador to add in to what you said. I've already told Emilia that see is under my protection and that no harm shall come to here this discussion. I can't go back on my word otherwise I would looked as a betrayer and rightfully booted out." He shakes his head " I'm not doing to myself and especially not when I told her to come and witness how things play out." Impi readjusts himself to in the chair to lean forward. " Saying that I also know how unwilling Duke Hendrick can be when he doesn't get his way. Former Saint Poe and I told him numerous time to relax and do not push to hard or he will be banishd. The man argued and bullhead straight forward anyhow resulting to this current predicament. And when the heaven's made their judgement his switching sides played no value into their decision. So he did it for nothing but, with no gains to be made. So for all he is good as a general his unwillingness to take other advice did his undoing."

It may both be our undoing if he is to keep this up. For I am willing to negotiate though the exile of Emilia I can not do.

20th May

Summer Day - Verdomite

Hendrick Armsworth

"My Lord?" a scribe looks around the corner of the door to my study, open due to the intense heat of summer.

"Ah, you finished tallying?"

"Yes, my Lord. Nine insults, six cases of slander and seven lies."

"Poor Craggy. His mood falls as the temperature rises. What do you think; defend? Counterattack? Or do you think those who care know enough about the case that we can ignore it?"

"They have the letters to verify some of his claims, my Lord, though he does bring a few new 'arguments' you could engage him on."

"Mmm, won't it seem as if we admit guilt to the ones we don't address if we are selective?"

"It might, my Lord. Alternatively, you could ask him to provide proof for his claims and then address what remains?"

"Excellent idea. So what should I make of him doubling down and burning his bridges? An act of desperation? Surely he must understand this will not get him what he is clearly after; a Wudenkin without Lord so the one he is loyal to can claim it for herself? Throwing his lot in with hers to force me to expand my demands, perhaps? Also, isn't it weird that a man who is usually even tempered allows himself to let go like that? The logical fallacies, insults and lies remind me of someone else's style. It would make a lot more sense if it was signed 'Emilia Delamoire', wouldn't it?"

"You might be on to something, my Lord."

"I might indeed. Go fetch your equipment. I will dictate my response now."

Aibhlidhn Dubhaine

"It seems to me Duke Hendrick has gained much indeed, though the price certainly bears some considering," Aibhlidhn's finger rose and fell agitatedly, tapping the cruel ring against the arm of her chair as it did so. The oak frame resonated in sympathy, a sorrowful ache to all within earshot.

"I've been served by many headstrong subjects in my time, both mighty lords and humble peasants. Some of these possessed great competence in their chosen domain but were little able to understand another's point of view or the subtleties of matters beyond their ken. I've remonstrated with such many times. I've chastened them. At times I've even given them their head and humbled myself later to soothe the damaged pride of those they injured," the Queen paused for a moment, remembering her battles with General Kilhorn during the Gotland War.

"What I've never done is banish them. Not a single one. Loyalty is a relationship which places an obligation on both parties, subject and sovereign," Aibhlidhn's eyes flashed in the lamplight and for a moment it seemed as if the ring brightened, and though her appearance remained calm it was clear a power slumbered within which should not be lightly aroused.

"By your own admission the Duke is a capable General and I find it hard to believe the defence of your capital would have been entrusted to him had his loyalty been in question. Yet so far I've not heard a single word of regret for traducing the Duke's reputation and issuing a ban upon him, only consternation for the loss of a city and the inevitable consequences this has for your people. A city which the Powers have declared lies in his gift because of your people's own corruption. That's not my verdict but Theirs. The answer to your conundrum lies in facing up to your own faults just as surely as it does in Duke Hendrick humbling his pride a little."

The Queen stood.

"Frankly My Lords there are much greater issues that need our attention right now than whether your Councils are models of decorum. So Hendrick is bull-headed and obstinate. So what? Should we declare that a crime and banish all from our realms who haven't the sense to be otherwise? Forgive him. And when next he presses too strongly ignore him. Within his own authority he is the master, outside of it why should you care?"

"Be creative. Offer the Duke something he cannot resist. I suspect a heartfelt apology will go some way to ease his sense of betrayal, but if that's not enough then send Dame Emilia to serve at my Court until their tempers have settled and their enmity softened."

Eriol Blackdagger

Taking a deep sign and nodding, Eriol replies, "Your Majesty, I understand your position. Again, with the Sanguine Saint here, I wont speak for him, but as far as my experience goes, Armsworth can not simply be ignored if he presses to harshly. This is not the first time he has threatened to secede. Also, I would add that he has made it abundantly clear that his demand is the exiling of the Lady Emilia and a barring of "Xlairites" from leadership. So now its no longer just a matter of his banishment, but he is treading upon the duties of a position that he does not have.

As for his banishment itself, I would again stress that it had the approval of the council, and the Sanguine Saint at the time. There was no reason to think anytihng was untoward. Also, at least in Vordul Sanguinis, there was not much of a reputation to tread upon as far as the Duke goes. Both those who have affection for the fallen Emperor and those who dont, have spoken against him. I would also say that his skills are what had him to protect the Holy City, not his personality. It was always my belief that you can dislike someone, but work well with them and still acknowledge their abilities."

Mara Gwyar

Meanwhile away from important conversations to shape the realms....

There was little one would consider "life" in the solemn figure standing motionless, seemingly not even feeling the need to sit down or lean on anything despite the visibly heavy armor she wore. Not a muscle shifted under the black mirror of it, nor did the pale face express much besides blank interest that could be easily taken for idle, cruel curiosity. Eyes the color of blue ice stared unblinking, unshifting at the woman lying on the simple kot.

Mara was very much not supposed to be here, that much she knew. But bearing the crest of Vordul and having losses to show for battles fought side by side with them served well to prove her loyalties. As for little things like étiquette and wishes of the soldiers to keep their leader at peace... well, heavier things shattered against the blank exterior and commanding voice.

Mara wasn't supposed to be here, nor should she have been here, but truth was, she was simply curios. Curios enough to leave her men behind and venture to a small encampment set almost timidly away from the main bulk of nobles and their forces. Curios enough to send away the healer who, with fussy fearlessness that possesses their kind around wounded, flatly refused her an audience. Of course, that courage lasted her only so long under the unblinking gaze. Mara knew she needn't even utter a word, simply wait and watch for the commoner to slowly retract within herself, soon retreating from her path.

And now, silent and motionless, she watched one of the causes of the recent unrest with curiosity, taking in the thin features and small frame hidden under the blanket, waiting for her to awake from the restless sleep of the wounded. Talking was of course much more informative but there was much a persons surroundings would tell of them, so for a moment, Maras interest was satisfied.

Summer Evening - Verdomite

Aibhlidhn Dubhaine

The previous night she'd wandered between the fires of the Vordul encampment with her liegemen, the three shrouded alike in nondescript garb, rowdy roisterers left over from the day's celebrations and seemingly well fortified on the Sanguine Saint's ale. As they staggered hither and yonder, sharing lewd banter with all they met, the Queen studied the Vordul soldiers and the nobles they served. For the most part they were young - in some cases barely more than children - and those who stood proud over them were still but stripplings themselves, dressed in the trappings of power but unseasoned in its command.

Should this young people be abandoned to their folly? It would be no hardship to Ar Agyr if she wiped her hands of the whole affair and left them to the tender mercies of the Thalmar King. But still, a foolish child would be more likely to grow up wise if they could but admit their mistakes and learn from them.

"What are these Xlairites willing to do to prove the Duke's fears misplaced?" the Queen raised her cup from the table and took another sip of the sweetened wine.

Impi Wolfvern

"I cannot speak for them for I'm not one if them. So I will have them speak for themselves. What they can do to prove his fears misplaced will be based on them. Depending on what they say we will know how this will end. " Impi waves his hand in a beckoning manner from a errand boy. "Bring Lady Emilia, Duke Seiõr , and Sir Craglan here I need them to speak for themselves. Make it quick."

Eriol Blackdagger

Eriol takes another deep breath, then stands, bowing deeply.

"If we are to retrieve the Xlairites, then I must stand with them. I would also say that I, who stood with Xlair from the time before Vordul was created, has always honored him. Would anyone in this chamber say I am controlled by Emilia? What of the priests who are now dead? Am I controlled by the ghosts of dead priests, whose blood still stains the cobble of Keffa? Have I not obeyed every order from whomever holds the throne? Have I not acted in a way that is honorable to all here? Should not my actions show that the fears of Duke Armsworth are unfounded?

Granted, there are more....vociferous followers, to be sure. But what of our ACTIONS? That is what matters. None who follow Xlair have abandoned this country, and none of us have stood against the Sanguine Saint. We are not controlled by anyone other than our consciences. Even though the Cold One yells in rage, does he not still serve this country? Does he not honor the one who sits upon this throne? What of Duke Seidr? Would any here denounce him as a puppet? Even Emilia, for whom has bluster and passion, with a fair mix impudence, still serves Vordul...even after suffering quite a punishment both from mortal and immortal judges. She did not run away to a foreign power, nor did she use her supposed "great influence" to forment rebellion and put herself on the throne. She serves and now suffers, in silence and in obedience.....I say that both Vordul and Ar Agyr have far more to fear form a man like Duke Hendrick than to those who honor a dead man."

Eriol remains standing, awaiting Craglan, Seidr,& Emilia

Emilia Delamoire

Emilia's Summon

Emilia slept, very much looking her 22 years of age with her platinum blonde hair falling over her cheek and her features relaxed in slumber. It was a thin cotton blanket that laid over her shoulders and her 5'5" frame was so thin, knees curled up slightly as she laid on her left side, she looked but a child.

The tent was dark other than the low embers on a fire near the center of the tent with a hole atop to keep the smoke from choking the inhabitants.

A few minutes went by in silence, and eventually through the lack of control sleep provides, Emilia unconsciously went to roll over to get comfortable, but the movements causing her right hip and thigh to remember their pain, and they shouted such up the nervous system and into Emilia's brain, causing her forest green eyes to open.

Emilia grimaced, trying to get her leg back in a position that didn't hurt, and now the blanket was all bundled up under her other side. She looked over, seeing the silohette of a woman and simply assumed it was the healer.

"Some more Wine.. by the Seven, more Wine woman." Emilia collapsed onto her back, not wanting to move again.

As the messenger left, Emilia rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Why in the world would they want to talk to me? Is there yet more that can be the scapegoat for? Did I summon a demon itself to piss in their tea?"

Emilia grumbled, her words lacking much conviction as she struggled to sit up, looking to Mara.

"I know we just met.. and if I had it my way I'd never ask any for help, but If I had, I'd loathe for it to be a man.. can you help support me while I walk?"

Mara Gwyar

The address was... hardly something that was worthy of her station, however much it was. But there was no resentment in Maras expression at it. In fact, there was no expression on the paper pale face at all, at least none that a stranger could or would care to notice. Only her head tilted to the side for a silent moment, the black braid sliding over the polished metal of the armor being the only sound to respond. Had she been back home, in presence of those used to reading half emotions and trace expressions, the slight squint of her eyes would have read as an amused one however.

Finding the wine, Mara poured it quietly into the cup, offering it to the young woman with a gloved hand, offering neither anger nor commiseration, the action seemingly neutral as herself. The arrival of the messengers and their summon was as unexpected to her as it was to Emilia herself, the question "why?" finding a nice nest at the back of the Dames mind, hungry for an answer. Still, she shunned the impulse to ask and simply offered her steady hand to Emilia, her entire figure seeming unwavering and solid, made so by her hight and bulk of the armor. Her words as she finally spoke were calm, the soft voice, although devoid of any melody, sounding not unpleasant to the ear.

"Or perhaps they want to see the demon in the flesh. Dame Mara. I will accompany you my lady, if you grant me the honor"

Craglan Mejor

Craglan didn't have attendants, scribes or couriers, had no one to dress him, wash him or feed him. He was Wild for a Noble, and did most of the tasks Nobles usually delegated to servants for himself. Craglan had Frost and his other Wolves of the Frozen Blood. That was enough. This meant that often there was no one to wake Craglan when someone came calling, save for Frost left to rouse him. Frost, who served as bed, couch and mount, didn't like being woken any more that his master, but that was about to be the case nonetheless

One of Eriol's attendants peered through the canvas opening in Craglan's tent and there he and Frost slept deeply in the early part of morning.

"Sir Craglan, Eriol and Impi request your attendance with the Queen..."

Craglan didn't move at all, but Frost's ears perked and he opened an eye. Frost slowly lifted his head, looking at the man with the sleepy irritation all creatures wake up with, but when Frost looked at someone in such a way, it had a tendency to be a little disconcerting.

"Sir Craglan...." began the man again.

"He prefers not Sir.... Call him Craglan, Ghost of Winter, Wizard, whatever, but Sir is a reminder of all that had been taken from him. I will bring him shortly."

The attendant blinked as if he were dreaming and then ever so slowly backed out of the tent. Frost helped to rouse Craglan and the two of them went to where they had been summoned.

Once they arrived, Frost lay down so that Craglan could easily jump off outside the regal tent of the Queen. Two guards nodded to him and pulled back the canvas that was the door and entered.

Craglan took the scene in in silence, his eyes scowled in a keen gaze like a predator. He sniffed a couple of times... He bowed to the Queen but made no other movements of grace toward any other save a nod to Eriol.

"I understand I was wanted? Are you so certain you want to hear what I have to say?" asked the Ghost of Winter.

Impi Wolfvern

"I wouldn't have called you if I didn't. Just be respectful with no insults. You can still state your negative view but, do not go on a tangent." Impi stood up and walked close to him. "Queen Aibhlidhn wants to know. What are you willing to do to prove the Duke's fears misplaced in his returning to Vordul. I don'tknow all you well enough to speak for you so I called you here. Now for better or worse your words will most likely be the deciding factor on how this ends. So keep that in mind."

Impi steps aside and fans his arm towards the Queen as she sat.

Emilia Delamoire

Emilia nodded to the Dame, Mara, her eyes lingering on her face for a while as if to try and peer through the veil and see what pieces make up this quiet noble. Deciding that she approved, or tolerated, what she saw she reached out and grabbed Mara's armored forearm and swung her legs carefully off the edge of the bed and placed the bare heel of her left foot on the dirt and pulled herself to a standing position.

She was shorter than Mara, and her weight negligible, as Emilia hopped some to get her balance. Without her blanket she was wearing a simple black slip that hung over thin shoulders and a petite frame down to her knees. Emilia turned, keeping her right leg bent and trying not to use the leg, she slowly hobbled her way toward a rope hung across two posts that held her clothing.

Dame Delamoire released Mara's arm then as she fingered through the long dresses, mostly black or red, though for this occasion she stopped on a long shoulderless dress the color of midnight. Over top the deep blue was woven black webs of old Shadowdale fashion from the age of the Spider Queen.

Taking a moment to steady herself, Emilia reached down and pulled the black slip up over her shoulders, turning, and tossing it on the bed. She bore no modesty in the company of Dame Mara, her alabaster skin bare beneath except the white bandages around her right thigh and hip.

She faced Mara for a moment in her nakedness, wondering.. she was an attractive woman, Mara, albeit cold. Emilia had sworn off men, though had never considered finding a woman to stand at her side.. cold.. quiet.. Never before did she think she needed a companion, but now she couldn't even make it across a tent without one.

Emilia smirked to herself, an innocent smile for the unknowing, but a smile that upon Emilia's lips generally meant trouble. Turning away, she hobbled slightly and took the midnight dress from the rope, flipping it so she could lift the fabric to pull over her head.

All across the young woman's body were scars of all shapes and sizes. Her back bore the marks of more than twenty long scars that raised from her skin like mountains on a map. The signs of her tortures in years past, both in the Dungeons of Vordul and elsewhere. Some were taken willingly, to suffer for her Lord, but most we received from the hand of a weak man trying to prove their strength by torturing a little girl.

Her arms held her most notorious scars, the two "X"s to symbolize her Blood Oaths, her sacrificial scar from the streets of Keffa, and various cuts from battle. At the bend of Emilia's right hip, the bandages hid her newest scar addition of a foot and a half long wound from the dull machette, as well as some cuts on her hands from having to grab the blade to stop it from the cut being more severe.

The small Dame was lost then for a moment, under the folds of the long dress, to which the platinum blonde hair eventually emerged from the formed bodice, and then both arms. Emilia looked down and maneuvered the long folds to flow about her legs and adjusted the corset. The top, which stopped just below the arms, left her shoulders and neck bare, with a deep V between her breasts to show the sternum and midsection while keeping her "mostly" decent.

Emilia took a bit more time, seeming unconcerned on how long, to tie up her hair and make sure it was cleaned of any blood or snags. Limping a few more steps to the side, she opened a small box next to the table, pulling out a deep black paste, dabbing her pinky finger within and smearing it carefully over her lips. She pursed her lips, sliding them against one another to spread the gloss black to fully cover her lips.

Replacing one container and taking another, she applied a deep red to her upper eyelids, and took a small quill to accent the green eyes with a line of black on each lower eyelid. With a few more moments to sate her perfectionism, she finally turned to face Dame Mara again.

"So.. How do I look? Demonic enough? Should we kill someone on our way just to prove a point?" She smiled, though it was hard to tell if she was kidding.

"Now.. if you would please." Emilia held out her hand to Mara for support. Once/if provided, she would exit the tent with Mara and have the quiet Dame attend her to the tent to meet with The Queen, The Sanguine Saint, and the Blood Regent.

Entering while trying her best to hide her limp, she allows Mara to assist her inside, clutching at her bracered arm in a signal of "Don't you dare leave me here", and then curtsied to all those in attendance.

"Sanguine Saint, Queen, Ghost of Winter, and Blood Regent, how may I serve?

Eriol Blackdagger

As the Sanguine Saint gives Craglan the Cold the floor, Eriol holds his breath.

Impi Wolfvern

Impi moves to give Eriol a letter and closes his fist on it. "Your Grace from here I leave the rest to my Ambassador. I Continue to receive letters of increasing Thalmarkin arriving at our borders. I must take my leave to establish our new capital in Vozzessdor. To fortify its walls incase they do plan to strike." Impi bows slowly in front of the Queen. "I hope this doesn't tarnish your view of me in the future." He turns away an leaves.

Mara Gwyar

Nothing in the calm, almost lifeless figure of one Mara changed or moved, besides deliberate actions to provide support for the wounded woman. Neither her gaze shifted or lost its focus, unblinking eyes watching Emilia with the same blankly curios expression. If there was any emotion that the display elicited, they were nowhere near her face. All too familiar painting of scars was a little more surprising to see on the small woman. Then again, thin pale skin scars easily, that she knew well, and the followers of maybe man, maybe god, maybe both did love their pain. Mayhaps, that was the least strange thing in this tent and the most... nostalgic.

There didn't seem to be any worry on Maras part about the time, nor did she show any sign of impatience. She simply waited, watching the makeup being skillfully applied as a defensive layer between Emilia and the talk that is to come. Once she was finished, she would find Maras hand silently extended to offer support, answer sounding after a moment of consideration. Whether it was on the merit of killing random soldiers or no, remained unsaid.

"Demonic? No. But that is the point isn't it?" Another pause of contemplation hang in the air before she continued. "Beautiful."

And she lead Emilia to the gathering of powerful, adjusting as much as possible to allow her the pretense of not being hampered by her wounds. Once they reached their destination, she bowed to the council, pressing a fist over where her heart would be, all but ready to leave when she was stopped. Remaining in place silently, Mara straightened her back, simply remaining in place unless sent away, playing the part of a very tall furniture.

Aibhlidhn Dubhaine

"Of course Impi, the needs of the realm must always come first," the Queen accompanied him to the tent flap where servants were struggling under the weight of heavy salvers laden with fine meats and candied fruits.

"Djieves, prepare a travelling bag for His Majesty."

"Very good Ma'am," the sober-faced valet was directing his charges with military precision. Aibhlidhn's eye caught sight of several bottles from her private cellar and with surprising deftness lifted one of them from the startled page carrying them, presenting it into the Sanguine Saint.

"This is a bottle of the Poryatu Reserve, straight from the cellar of the Empress of the Lurias. It puts our Beluaterran wines to shame."

Eriol Blackdagger

Eriol stands, and after receiving the crumpled note, bows deeply. "My Lord, have a safe trip, and long may you defend us".

Sitting back down, Eriol smiles at the Queen's wine comment and replies, "the continental wines leave much to be desired, your Majesty....present company excluded, of course".

Eriol takes another deep drink from his glass, then looks again to the Wizard of Cold

Craglan Mejor

The pale 'man' Awakened Beneath the Mountain was adorned with a white leather robe with sleeves of silver wolf's fur and a cowl of the same that could be drawn up. Jewels were sewn here and there into the robe in patterns, collecting the light from lanterns in the tent. The Scintillating Staff of the Doomed he thrummed his fingers on until he leaned it against his body to bite at a nail.

Then Craglan truly looked upon the Queen, a Timeless Beauty. The Ghost of Winter wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his sleeve upon his thoughts. He'd been with Queens before... Warrior Queens... The memory resonated and he smiled widely and then realized his grin and stopped. How good it would be to have Bae as an ally in these dark days.

Craglan's bow swept to the floor:

"Temperate Queen Aibhlidhn of Ar Argyr: I am Craglan the Cold Drraad'da Mejor the Beggar, Awakened Beneath the Mountain, Wizard of the Frozen Blood, The Ghost of Winter and the Rider of Frost. I am well known for speaking true, and it often costs me dearly. And yet I am still here!? And so too you are here as well. So here, now, I will speak only the truth as it is accumulated by me from my point of view and what I can glean from the Stars and the Portents. So let us now hear the Truth of Craglan the Fool."

Craglan pauses before continuing.

"What to do with Hendrick? With Wudenkin... These are the mortal issues with which we deal, yes? Yes." Eriol looked at the White Mage with a sideways glance. Craglan smiled as he turned to look at Eriol. Craglan muttered an inaudible phrase making two quick motions with his fingers on each hand: "Rasil!? I sense you, perhaps you should hear this as well - Ahem. Apologies, I feel Grimblade should be among us. He'll be here shortly to absorb the backlash of what I'm about to say:

Hendrick desires only the wealth and power that was bred upon our shoulders, with our blood.... He desires to reap the reward that fell in his lap as one that we toiled to attain for years. Hendrick likes power as all Nobles do, a sort of power I even attained a flavor for despite its bitter taste. Our blood shed to build all of this. Our blood was splashed out. Our Blood came back. Blood is Blood and Water is Water and to deny this is to deny all of existence both real and unknown...." Craglan looked up at nothing and finishes drinking from an odd colored flask he got from the shop of Brick Rat the Gypsy Pirate.

"He Who No One Wants can come back if that is what he desires. His hate for me and my kind is well known. The masses of armies that swarmed to the doorstep the instant bloodlines were resewn... All of it preposterous. We are hated. We understand. Those that declare good we have ONLY seen in Ar Argyr save for when you failed to come to our aid in our most desperate hour. We are hated. I understand. We understand. Hendrick can come back and do what he will with Wudenkin and all of Vordul, he will do it alone or with whomever decides to stay with the sycophant. We seek at this time, only to outfit our hated "Xlairites" and leave to live among the hordes which none say can be done. We did it in Wudenkin. All said it was folly. 'The creatures will destroy you' they all said. The horor is they were right, but the monsters were not the rogues of our lands but the Nobles all around us that despised our.... ...imagination. Our ways are not the ways of the Paladin you think of, but our adherence to honor and duty was paramount in our dogma.

We will leave, forever, and face the bloodless hoarders Xlair so hated. As we have done with Wudenkin, so to shall it be for Rhines. We will show the Continent why we are who we are. In order to do this, we will need our Capitol. Let Hendricks motivation in returning be taking on all the power he can grab! We ask only in return that we can properly outfit and supply for the dangerous journey that lay ahead of us, the fearless, the Hated. If Armsworth can swear to this with no interference, I say he's welcome back as Duke of Wudenkin.

If he cannot swear to this, You can keep Wudenkin and Armsworth and we'll find another way, for I have lived long, and am Awake! and Awake I shall remain indefinite! If the hordes of the true monsters, the Nobles, come to destroy us, they do not destroy US.... They destroy only hope for themselves and their tedium... We care not for you mortal affairs. We seek the riches lost in the countryside plauged to the South East. Let us leave this wretched place with the Power we've built in our capital and the vile folk so hated by all the realms in every direction will go and live amongst the hordes, equally despised by all the continent. It seems to be what we deserve."

Craglan, who had run out of breath, attempted to poise himself. His passions and disdains had taken over.

"Emelia. So much of this seems to revolve around your insignificance somehow. What do you have to say amidst so much hate for you and us and Vordul?"

Rasil Grimblade

Rasil, being summoned by the madman of the mountain, enters the room and bows deeply to the Queen. He then turns to Eriol to offer an apologetic nod. Rasil readdress the Queen.

"Your Majesty, I am honored to be in your presence."

He moves quickly over to Eriol to allow Emilia to address the Queen on Craglan's request. He quietly waits to see if he is giving an opportunity to speak.

Emilia Delamoire

Emilia had found a seat, lowering into it quietly while the others discussed among themselves, Mara standing next to her stoically. Wincing slightly she lifted her right leg to cross over her left knee properly and rested her hands in her lap, looking over to catch the departing words of the Sanguine Saint, Impi Wolvern. She would normally rise to show the respect, but decided better of it, preferring to look rude rather than weak.

As Blackdagger spoke and Craglan made his entrance, the small girl kept quiet, her black lips poised in a practiced smile as her eyes wandered the table and the tent rather than focusing on the Wizard. Her pale chest rose and fell with even breaths as she looked over and up to the Dame that stood at her side with a quiet smile.

"Emilia.." She heard her name, snapping her attention back to the task at hand as she looked at Craglan. "Oh. What are we talking about?" The young Dame asked, looking between the three with a disarming smile.

After a slight pause, she made a small "O" with her black lips and excused herself.

"Oh my, of course, Duke Harmsworth... you have to forgive me, the Wizard just goes oooonnn and onnnn and onnn. You should read his letters, I swear we're going to deforest Zwering just so he can tell us his gods damned title for the one hundredth time." She began, "Where is he, anyway, Hendrick?" Emilia looked around the tent as if he would spring up out of the trunk, or from behind a curtain.

"I would expect he'd be close, from what I hear you're not to separate a babe from the breast, at least while they're still squealing." She said, pausing as if she was actually awaiting a response to why Hendrick was not present next to the woman who defended him against his countrymen.

Breaking the silence with a soft chuckle that befits her age, like a noble girl giggling at the table at a fool peasant girl.

"Seriously though, are we still talking about him? I thought we were talking about Cities and Duchies... something important. If I wanted to talk about boys I could've summoned my lady in waiting." She sighs with a slight shake of her head, adjusting her posture as she rolls her eyes, resigning to address the topic.

"Look, I've had a boy hit me, a boy try to slander my name and call me a whore, and even try to strangle me once... but.. to betray his own realm.. running for the hills, leaving his own city behind while claiming it belongs to him, to hide behind you.. I mean.. the irony.. all for Strength and Justice." Emilia let her eyelids droop low as she shook her head in disbelief.

"This is by far the most dramatic." Emilia leans forward in her chair, the deep plunge in her dress leaving little to the imagination.. sure she had very little in terms of cleavage, but the hint was all it usually took.

Pointing over to Craglan with a slender finger, her hand bandaged from cuts on her palm. "Did you know he once stood by while Lord Gigax tried to drown me in a tub, then as I was about to breath, busted my nose with a hilt to a dagger, to which then our wonderful Wizard froze me and my wet dress to the ground, trapping me."

"I say this because, as you have probably surmised, I'm not a nice girl. People. Don't. Like. Me." She stated every word plainly as if it needed to be understood.

"But did Craglan betray the realm when I called him names? Did the Judge, Gigax? Did the Grand Templar of Obia'Syela soil himself and look for the nearest neighborly woman to hide behind?"

"No. I was punished, I paid, and I got back to work. I am not here to be liked, Vordulian Strength isn't about being popular, it's about Ambition, it's about Perseverance. What Hendrick Armsworth displayed is that he is the exact opposite of what this Realm stands for. Not only did he betray the Blood Oath to the founder of Vordul Sanguinis, he betrayed the very foundations that this realm stands for."

"Now, whatever happens with Hendrick.. happens. He can come back, he can stay, it's not my choice. I listen, I do as I'm told, for I am Vordulian, and I serve Him."

Emilia shrugs her slender shoulders and leans back in the chair again, addressing the Queen.

"Now whether or not Wudenkin is returned to Vordul? I think that says a whole hell of a lot more about you, Queen Aibhlidhn, than it does about Hendrick Armsworth."

21st May

Summer Day - Verdomite

Rasil Grimblade

Rasil's eyes go wide in shock as he listens to Emilia's words. He steps forward and kicks Eriol's chair as he passes to address the Queen.

"Your Grace, I apologize for my peers words." He says as he glances over toward Emilia and Craglan before continuing. "Their words are not shared by everyone in Vordul Sanguinis." The courtier clears his throat and adjust his collar before continuing. "I must admit that I knew very little of Duke Armsworth as I had just arrived back to Vordul Sanguinis right before the Duke seceded to Ar Agyr. And as its been said, there is a history between Dame Emilia and Duke Armsworth loathing of one another, which is made abundantly clear as we are in this tent together." He pauses a moment before continuing. "I would say that Vordul Sanguinis moved too quickly to banish him and I'm sure it was spurred on by hatred and not sound judgement from the council. Indeed his actions broke the laws in Vordul Sanguinis and no one should be above the law, but a broader discussion should have been had and perhaps we would not be here today. "

Rasil again takes a couple breaths and looks about the room to see if he has everyone's attention. "I would pray you send back word to Duke Armsworth that I am sorry for how he was treated and that whatever has been done can be undone, but only with him returning. He wants Vordul Sanguinis to change to a realm of justice and strength. I agree with him, however he should be with us to change within and not outside of his own realm."

"Some of his requests we can accommodate him on, partially. No Xlairite will hold a position on the council for 30 days. Dame Emilia will not be banished, but not be allowed to hold a position on the council for 60 days. This time should allow Duke Armsworth to see that Vordul Sanguinis is changing with his help. Our Laws can be changed but again, he must be here to help change those laws. Currently we are without a judge, who else would be better suited than him to step up and be nominated for the position to enforce those laws. Lastly, with him returning his name would be cleared."

"I think that is the best we can offer Duke's Armsworth and I think what I have laid out is fair and reasonable. If after that allotted time has passed and Duke Armsworth feels that Vordul Sanguinis has not changed, he will be in a position of influence to react to it and enforce the laws." Rasil takes a step back and bows low to the Queen. "I believe we have taken up too much of Your Grace's time. Please stay and rest as long as you would like, and I wish you safe travels back to your realm." With one final bow, he turns and leaves.

Aibhlidhn Dubhaine

"Well there's a young man with a sound head upon his shoulders," Aibhlidhn recalled the letter Rasil had written her at the start of this affair. Respectful but not supine. To date it was the only thing she'd heard from Vordul which recognised Duke Hendrick had rights and had acted legitimately upon them, regardless of whether he'd been wise to do so. She'd hoped for similar from fair-minded Eriol but the Ambassador was bound by his duty to speak as he was directed and his personal feelings in the matter were still an enigma.

Not so the feelings of the other 'Xlairites'.

"We see the beginnings of an accommodation if any is brave enough to discuss it," the Queen let her gaze fall upon each of her guests in turn, divining what she could of their sorrows both past and future. Emperor Xlair had been a harsh man, cruel in his passions yet in her estimation a necessary evil. Many in her own councils had wondered that she would form a treaty with such a tyrant but in her secret counsels she had seen him as he truly was: a monstrous blade placed in one pan of the scale of fate to balance the many smaller monstrosities in the other. And yet so great a weight set so squarely in Beluaterra's heart was itself a source of chaos to compound those already threatening the fragile security of the North.

A temptation tugged at her heart. To resolve the matter with force and be done with this charade. If the Children of Xlair sought their own tragic end should they not have that choice? She need only reveal the power which slumbered in the North, prepared against that hateful day when the portals would once more open and hell would burst forth upon mankind.

Aibhlidhn would not succumb.

"Two dooms stand before you and it seems you have already chosen which is your own," the cruel ring once more twisted hither and thither and hither again as her thumb fiddled with it, the dull copper band seeming to squirm from her grasp as if in disapproval.

It is not your place to speak the dooms. Her finger throbbed and the anguish of innumerable tears threatened to break through the loops of logic and habits of thought which kept the ring's will in check.

Only a balance walker should speak of such things.

Then should I gift you to a balance walker?

Silence.

"Twin brothers shared a house with their father but when their father died it was no longer a home to them both," she continued, "The one brother was hale and hearty, a mighty warrior who set his will to all things with zeal whether noble or foul, his flesh hard like leather, his sinews strong like steel, his fatty marrow warm and vigorous. The other brother is but moments younger and yet could not be more different, malformed, a starveling child raised on his father's hate, and all he tastes is poison, bittersweet. The yoke of servitude chafes ever upon his shoulders and he longs to have all things as his father desired. Now the brothers are beset by their father's creditors, and each in turn has compounded his debts."

You have said too much.

I have said no more than is apparent. The Queen bent the ring once more to her will. To the service of the heirs of lost Melhed.

"One of these brothers will leave their home and seek his fortune in strange pastures. The other will stay and fight for what was his father's. Which of these brothers does what is right in his father's eyes? Which does what is right in his own?"

Eriol Blackdagger

After Emilia, Craglan, and Rasil speak he nods to the and says, "thank you my friends. I apologize for inconveniencing you. I know about the trip yo our northern border. Please be safe."

Turning back to the Queen, Eriol stares at her for a moment. Looking into her beautiful eyes he purses his lips in thought. Without breaking his stare, he motions for his attendant. The Ambassador simply says, "copy". Handing the crumpled note to the attendant, Eriol then breaks his stare and takes another drink from his glass. A moment later, the attendant hands back a fresh copy of the note.

Standing, Eriol says, "Your majesty, the official offer from Vordul Sanguinis, concerning this matter."

Eriol hands the Queen the letter, bowing deeply when she reaches to take it.

Aibhlidhn Dubhaine

Aibhlidhn studied the neatly written secretary hand, affixed with the necessary Ambassadorial seals. The offer was not surprising. Indeed a good outline for an agreement if Duke Hendrick could be won over.

"My councillors will have to study this before I can say yay or nay. If they agree this satisfies our obligation to Duke Hendrick then we shall want it formally recorded in a treaty with all the necessary verbiage," the Queen passed the note to her valet Djieves and he in his turn withdrew from the pavilion in search of the Queen's Squire.

The trestle war table was heaving under the weight of platters and Aibhlidhn set about filling a trencher with the gusto of a seasoned campaigner. The Queen lived always on the march, keeping no estates of her own, and the cooks of the royal household excelled at making the best of whatever bounty nature provided. In this case generous haunches of beef and venison stewed in a thick gravy, flavoured with herbs and sweet berries, and a dark hot-spiced pottage garnished with sour cream and flat breads.

Had she revealed too much? It rarely profitted a man to know his wyrd, a truth the sagas never failed to reiterate, but still she could not help but feel pity for these youths. The path of the Children of Xlair would be long and hard with few to shed a tear for their passing.

"Come. Eat. You have a long journey ahead of you and should not travel on an empty stomach," she handed the trencher to Emilia before busying herself with the next and then the next, passing them around until even Craglan stood looking somewhat out of sorts with plate in hand.

Outside a thunderous rain began to fall, a summer storm passing over on its way north from the mountains to water Lake Salaman.

Emilia Delamoire

Emilia took the trencher, begrudgingly, offering it to Mara if she so wanted it, taking none for herself. Once finished, she would make sure it was handed off over to Eriol and onward.

"If it were me, I'd have it poisoned." she thought to herself, choosing not to drink even though she doubted that the Queen intended as much.

As food and plates were handed out as well she eventually took a bit of fruit or a vegetable daintily from the plate and would take very small bites. Emilia's internal fires left little room for appetite, which was much apparent by her malnourished frame.

Of course it's a lesson about two men, both should be drown and let a clearer, female, mind prevail. The story was common, where the females were most likely meant to feed the "important" men, or just get on their back and wait for the business to be done.

And so Emilia was lost in thought as she usually is when she's not the focus of attention. If it wasn't about her, it wasn't much worth listening to, at least as far as she was concerned. She cared little on whether or not Hendrick came back, though the thought of him running for Interragator caused her pause, where she tossed a grape down on the plate as if the news caused her to lose what little appetite she had.

She kept her mouth shut, however, she had said her piece. Was anything she said, addressed? No. Was she even given the decency of a direct reply? No. She was only here as a trinket, to look at and muse at how odd she must be.. but listened to.. let the men talk now sweetie.

In her mind's eye she just saw armored dicks wandering around, stiff with fleshy helmets, barking orders at fields of more dicks eager to please. Queens and Princesses sat in chairs below similar, though instead of armor, the Kings ands Princes chose fur jackets and finery of the softest cloth lest it chafe their sensitive skin.

Dame Delamoire continued to day dream, oblivious to anything else going on around her, with a small giggle at her lips now and again as she thought of more phallic concepts with their towers, their monuments, their staves and scepters.

Some day.. she dreamt... she would have a court of only women, void of the thick male skulls and shallow minds. Some day.. she would rule all things, and she would be terrible to behold.. and then they would listen.. some day.

Emilia shifted in her seat and spent the remainder of the time listening to the rain and glancing toward the tent flap, eager to be away from people. She minded her tongue, kept quiet and would smile to any that gave her eye contact. When the affairs were concluded, she would rise.. attempting it at first herself, then forced to request Mara to help her stand. Emilia would then again offer a polite curtsey to the Queen, and depart without the slightest regard for the rain.

(End Emilia's Involvement - Thanks all for the wonderful RP - Please excuse my jerk of a character :P )

Summer Evening - Verdomite

Eriol Blackdagger

Eriol rises from his seat and approaches the Queen. "It has been wonderful to see you again, Your Majesty. Although I pray I do not see you on the battlefield....for if my realm needs me to put my breastplate back on, then we are truly in dire straits."

The Ambassador bows deeply and smiles. Motioning to his attendant, who pulls the canvas back, Eriol takes two steps back, facing the Queen, before turning around and departing.