CarringtonSony
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The Collapse of the Whitethorne (RP)
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Carrington Whitethorne entered his estate in Camelot holding Questor's green plate helm in one hand. He climbed the stairs to his lavish room, and sighed. He polished the old, dented helm with his claok before setting it upon a shelf with a black beneath it which read.
"In memory of my best friend, and true brother, Questor Whitethorne."
Carrington felt a pang of sarrow for the fallen soldier, then quickly left the room. He slowly plodded down the stairs, battle-weary and exhausted, feeling as though the events as of late had taken it's toll. As he enared the door, three cloaked men approached his door. He nodded at them and adjusted his cloak.
"Carrington Whitethorne, I have brought you ill news." The man said, lowering his hood; Carrington immediately recognized him as the magistrate Tamura.
Carrington sighed and nodded. More bad news? His mind probed every possible situation..what else could go wrong? He thought of Moryan, and their love..as well as the Lions. Had something happened to her? Had someone else of the Order fallen?
"Carrington Whitethorne," The magistrate repeated, "It has come to the court's attention that you are not the true son of your father, Lord Whitethorne, but a bastard whelp born to a common barmaid. The woman ahs come foreward, as well as a witness from Lord Harbury's court, to prove this. We've the written documentation and evidence to support her claim. We have found that you are not the claim to this estate, or any land your father may have owned. All of it will be promptly turned over to the true son of Whitethorne, Albricht. Here and now, by order of the Crown, you are stripped of your proper title of Count, and will be justly compensated."
The magistrate spoke these words coldly, harshly, and carelessly as if they were nothing to him. Carrington could not believe the words he was hearing. It had all come so quickly...was it real?
" These men will escort you from Albricht's estate, and by his order, you will never return. This property is the right of Lord Albricht Whitethorne, the true Edling of Whitethorne. Farewell. "
And with that, the magistrate handed Carrington the written documentation, which included a personal confession from his late father, which he had written in a fit of guilt. The two massive cloaked men grabbed Carrington by each arm, and drug him away.
And Carrington's world collapsed, right there that afternoon, the noble's son and former generally stripped and left with nothing. The collapse of the Whitethorne.
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Mali principii malus finus.
Don't open it.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan searched frantically for Carrington, having heard the rumors on the streets of Camelot about seeing him taken forcefully from his home.
She had never been comfortable there, only sharing a few nights there in his bed, but she knew something dire must have happened if he was taken from there by magistrates.
She had heard of a rush of missives being sent by nobles and word on the street was garbled and unclear.
Then she headed for Arguyle's estate, looking for word of Carrington's whereabouts.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Smiling and laughing, Crispian strode up the stairs of the wood shop to the small quarters he kept upstairs. Scrolls and letter of entreat were piled on the desk, for he had been gone the past four days.
Sitting down, he began to work through them all, reading petitions for aid from the League, memebership to the League, correspondence from Allies and Guild-mates. He smiled each time he read "Lord Crispian" for the accolade was so wrongly laid upon him, but one he could seem to shake.
As he neared the last of the stack, Jashen slipped into the room. His studded armor hissed slightly against the leather of the chair he settled into, adjusting the two blades at his waist for comfort. "Hail Brother, have you heard?" the younger twin asked, his face serious, almost grave.
"Hm?" Crispian raised his eyebrows in distracted interest as he read word from Thidranki sent by Sister Mirial, a young Cleric in the service of the League.
"It seems you are not the only one who is called 'Lord' incorrectly," Jashen continued, waiting for Crispian's attention. "Carrington has been stripped of titles, lands, and holdings. He's not even a Whitethorne of full blood." No smirk marked his face that this might be a jest.
Crispian sat back, thoughtful. He had raced Carrington by horse from Cornwall to Snowdonia in the past days and knew the Lord Whitethorne had been busy with defense of the Realm, as well as a personal dailliance. This intregue must have been abrew that entire time.
"I hate politics," Crispian said, rubbing his forehead. "See what you can find out, Jash. Who, when, how. And send that new lad, Tannir, in here."
Jashen sketched a mocking bow as he left, signalling Tannir to go in. The young rogue stood hestitantly waiting as Crispian wrote something. He sanded it and read, keenly feeling his lack of formal schooling, but greatful Mirashta had made him learn to read and write at least.
The note read:
" Lord Carrington,
Let me know if the League can help. Court lies are vile.
Crispian
PS I won't race you as a commonr. So let's clere this up."
"Take this and find Carrington Whitethorne," Crispian said, pressing his seal of office into the warm wax. "And don't let anyone see you pass it, if you can avoid it."
Tannir bobbed his head and dashed from the office.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Drannog
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ooc, ACK that sucks.
ic,
A mouse, seeing this, scurries back into the wall of the Whitethorne estate to ponder his next moves...
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Racius
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Sir Racius Lutheran sits in his estate quietly, lording over a massive oaken desk as he listens to a report regarding the Whitethorne situation. He ponders silently on the course of action that should be taken, and then makes a decision. "Track down Carrington, and bring him back to my estate. I will have words with him."
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DemuraRa
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Sad story, it is hard when things like this happens in our lives. But, I am sure that at the end he will recover.
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Channon_Katt
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SSHHHHH don't ruin the plot for me...I haven't seen this one yet.
/sit watching in anxious anticipation munching popcorn
Anyone want any?
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington closed his eyes, his heart writhing in agony. Not the true son of Whitethorne? Could anyone not see Abricht's treachery? Had his support for the marriage of Ravyin and Drayton caused the Harbury court to conspire against him? He didn't care right now. He just sat there, unable to move, in shock. Everything he had been given, worked for, and earned in his life was gone...except for a few sentimental possessions and his rank within the Order. Other than that, he wa just another bastard son of a noble, bedded secretly, living his life as a lie. His heart wrenched at the thought.
He layed his few possessions on the floor next to him...Questor's plate helm, the plaque of Moryan's poetry he had made for himself...she held the other, the plaque commemorating his quick rise to the rank of General, and the very scrolls the brought him down. He buried his head in his hands and took a deep breath, his fingers toying with the bangs of his blonde locks.
He began to ponder Arguyle's words...and what he had said. He sat up slowly, a new look of courage in his eyes.
"I won't lay down for them." he said, raising his posture and looking to Arguyle, his chin proud, but a tear rolling down his cheek, marring his strong features.
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Mali principii malus finus.
Don't open it.
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Drannog
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A large mouse runs out of a hole and surveys the human, and then runs over to the scrolls. Unnoticed to the distrought fellow, the rodent then laburiously unrolled one scroll and started running around on it looking it over.
The blonde, noticing the varmit, knocked it aside. Undettered, it ran a semi-circle behind Caer and then scurried into the green helm to hide for a minute. When it felt the coast was clear, it scurried back over to the scrolls and finished it's review of it.
Then, secretly, the mouse scurried back into the helm to hide there.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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and a stealthed form detached itself from the wall across from the McFadden estate and scurried across the city to its master....
(better than just /bump)
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Drannog
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The mouse, seeing that Caer was not going to move, finally decided to take matters into his own paws, and quickly disappeared into the darkness.
Five silver pieces were difficult to collect because of logistical reasons, but few noticed a rat in the city. A few hours later he scurried up to the stable master with a bag of five silver pieces, stole a ticket, ran up the horse's leg, stuck the ticket in the ear, and rode off.
Never has the rat had such a thrill, as he clung desperately to the backside of a charging horse. Several times he was almost thrown free, but determination preservered.
Fifteen minutes later, the rodent leapt free and rolled into pile of hay outside Cornwall Station. Disoriented, tired, and feeling somewhat out of his element, he took off down the road to arrive at the broken summoning tower past midnight.
There Albricht Whitethorne stood as lackey to the fell sorcerer Basaia. He was not concerned however, and with a bit of care and subtlety, lifted a signet ring from him -- the signet ring of Father Whitethorne.
It was a masterful success, and the rat afforded himself several minutes of dance afterwards to celebrate.
/dance
/dance
/dance
With that the night was finished, but the rat's work had only begun.
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Drannog
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Several days later, a message arrives for Lord Benowyc. The handwriting is terrible, but it *is* sealed with the official crest of Father Whitethorne.
It reads:
"Lord Benowyc,
I am the master of the Whitethorne Estate located in Camelot, and I would be interested in providing it to your lordship for a modest price of 800 gold. The house is a magnificent structure, located immediately off of the Round Table, and is worth many dozens of times that. But because I have admired you for so long I thought I would provide you with this bargain basement price.
It would be very, very worth your time to invetigate this matter closely. You may meet with me at the Stone Inn, Octobre 12th, at dusk."
Whitethorne"
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Drannog
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A message arrives for Albricht Whitethorne. It's handwriting is terrible, but it came by a royal courier.
It reads:
"Albricht Whitethorne,
I understand that you have come into the ownership of an estate located near the Round Table in Camelot. I am willing to offer you a great deal of platinum for the purchase of such land, if it suits my needs. I have been wanting to purchase a summer home in the city for several years now, and this sounds like the perfect opportunity.
Please meet me at the Stone Inn, Octobre 12th, at dusk.
Lord Benowyc"
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Drannog
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Lord Benowyc was naturally intrigued with the offer, and set off to meet this Father Whitethorne (although he thought he had previously heard he had passed on already) with an entourage of a dozen knight commanders. Spirits were high, although his advisors cautioned him to investigate the identity of this Whitethorne before exchange of any land rights or gold.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/bump
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Crispian_Pontiff
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He stared out the window lost in thought. The news he had gotten was not good. Messages had arrived over the past days from Arguyle MacFadden, Moryan of the Wayward Band and from Carrington himself.
None painted a nice picture. It seemed that matters were moving in the wrong direction, and other than some cryptic statements here and there, like information had emerged, save one name, which was hard to accept for who it was. Even that was speculation, according to Jashen, Rasputyn and a few others who listened for the League throughout all of Camelot.
Crispian came to his decision and called for Tannir, his "squire" here in the Capitol city. A few curt instruction, and Tannir was leaving, while Crispian saw to a bath. When he was done, he pulled on hose of a deep blue, a silver silk tunic and a rich doublet of deep gold tones. Soft low boots matched the doublet and when he pulled on the cloak of the League, badged for the Seneschal of the Order, it made a striking look. He smoothed his hair before pulling on a soft cap.
Although there was no mistaking him for a proper courtier, Crispian did look dashing in the court attire he so despised. He almost disliked the outfit as much as what he was going to do. But, for what he had in mind, a gruff highland warrior, a disgraced Lord or a - well - Moryan - would be unsuitable.
With a finally agjustment of the belt his fastened on his hips, he left his small chamber, heading for a meeting.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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/ooc
But, for what he had in mind, a gruff highland warrior, a disgraced Lord or a - well - Moryan - would be unsuitable.
ROTFLMAO!!!
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Drannog
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ooc, Carrington, are you going to finish this or not, man? You started it days ago and have seemingly neglected it.
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{old}Glavian
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/ooc
That is IF there is anything to finish. I think he may have already.
The point may just be that he is now poor.
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Drannog
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ooc, but my mouse is on the MOVE!
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/ooc Glad you liked it Moryan! "Don't call me a farkin lady!"
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Corrects Crispian..
DINNA call me a farking lady!
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Crispian_Pontiff
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The moon had near to set as he slipped back up the stairwell. His hair was mussed and the collar of his tunic uneven. With a care, he lifted the latch and slipped into the chamber, but Jashen was still awake. The warm glow of a candle lit the twin face that looked mockingly at him. “Well, well, brother, have you been out late,†Jashen smirked as he handed over a goblet of wine.
Trying to halt a spreading blush, Crispian gulped down the wine. “Carrington back from Lyn Barfog yet?†he asked as he stripped off tunic and doublet, casting them on the floor in a heap.
Jashen shook his head. “You were the last of either of us to hear from him, so your news is better than mine.†He refilled the wine goblet as Crispian further devested. “And I am guessing you do have some news?†he continued as he held open a simple nubbly wool robe for Crispian.
“Does the name Lady D’Vena mean anything to you?†Crispian asked as he settled in a chair. As Jashen shook his head, Crispian shrugged, “Me either.â€
He stared out the window for sometime, allowing Jashen to work at the tension in his shoulders, relaxing from that as much as from the wine. “Jashy, find out if Moryan is in the city. If she is, see if you can get her to come here, tonight yet if possible.â€
Waiting for Jashen to leave, Crispian then called for Tannir. “Draw me a bath, please, Tannir. A very hot bath. I feel defiled,†he said, his face taking on a look of loathing and disgust. “No being so foul have I encountered in the field as I did tonight.†And he toss the doublet, tunic and hose into the fire.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Cloak72
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Ayslyn leaned against the trunk of the tree, his legs stretched out along the branch that he rested on. His eyes were closed. Secaran paced back and forth below him, reading through a sheaf of parchments. "We have news from Albion." he said. Ayslyn didn't open his eyes, but he did arch an eyebrow. "Seems Questor, the northman, has died. His heart failed him."
Ayslyn nodded, "He was a good man. His passing is a loss." He crossed his hands over his stomach and stretched a little.
Secaran paused a little and shook his head at the ranger. "His 'brother' Caerington has lost the title to the Whitethorn name and it has defaulted to Albricht."
This time Ayslyn did open his eyes. He looked down at the younger elf. "Really."
"Seems he was not a true son of the line, merely a bastard." Secaran frowned. Humans and their fascination with propriety confused him.
"Odd," mused Ayslyn. "Have my people in Albion start making discreet inquiries into this. I would know more."
Secaran looked up at him, "Why the interest?"
Ayslyn frowned, "Some time back, I had a very reliable report that Albricht was dead. He is not a good person. Caerington fights for good. If his title was taken through treachery, then perhaps there is something that can be done about it." He looked down to see Secaran staring at him in wonder and laughed. "Don't look so surprised. I have people everywhere. Justice knows neither racial nor national bounderies. I may not be able to work openly outside of Hibernia, but I can still work to protect the innocent and encourage and support those who fight for good. Send the messages. If they find anything of use, have them give the information to the leader of his order. They know enough to not be traced back to me, and Arguyle will do the right thing with the information. Oh! Also, have Damon watch Albricht. Something is fishy there."
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Ayslyn Greenwillow, Night Elven Hunter, Runetotem
Mokti, Troll Hunter, Runetotem
"Pain shared is Pain divided; Joy shared is Joy multiplied"
Everything I needed to know, I learned from drinking at Callahan's
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Crispian sat in the dark tavern room, more comfortable than he had been earlier. The leathers he wore fit well, as he had worn them for many seasons of riding and relaxation. His blond hair was gold in the candle light and his grey eyes shone dully. The worn scabbard at his side held his finest blade and his bearing was of one who knew how to use it. A second sword shown over his shoulder. The black jerkin was half unlaced, revealing a chest well muscled from warfare and scarred.
He waited for Moryan, not eager to pass what he had learned, or how.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan sauntered into the dark room, her eyes seeking out the one she was supposed to meet. She'd only seen him a time or two, truth be told, but she knew he had the realms best interests at heart, and for some reason he'd taken this matter with Caer under his attention.
She made her way through the room, hints of light catching the chains of her mail. Her deeply tanned skin was visible, she had forgone all her armor again, as was her desire in town.
As she slid into the seat across the table, she ordered an ale or two, tossing the wench a gold piece with the order to keep them coming. She plunked an elbow down on the table, drained the first mug and said, "So, whats this all about Crispian?"
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{old}Alyzabeth
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<<forgone part of her armor.. forgive the late night postings>>
oh and BUMP
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Crispian glanced about, a bit nervous. He had seen Moryan only a few times on the frontier, but he had heard of her, uh, association with Carrington. His rural upbringing caused a slight flush to spread up his cheeks at her manner, open and sultry without being brazen or wanton. Drinking deeply from his ale, he plunged into his tale.
“Well, I uh sort of heard about what’s happening with Carrington and all, and had some people check a few things out, and well ya see the same name sort of kept coming up again and again and you’d really be amazed what people say sometimes in front of the hired help and anyway well I guess the point of this all is that I know that someone has plans that go beyond Carrington and might even go all the way to someone much higher.†He breathed and sat back, drinking from his ale again. “So who’s Lady D’Vena to him anyway?â€
The first rush of everything had flown out of him so quickly, he was almost winded. A neophyte to political machinations, his nerves were high. If it were not for the four or five friends secreted about the place, his nerve might have even failed. These were not things that a commoner risen in the rank meddled in. He glanced about, then fix his gray eyes on Moryan’s and quirked an eyebrow, waiting.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Arguyle sat and dipped his quill into the inkwell. He then put quill to paper and wrote a note to his friend.
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My King,
The wind whispers of foul deeds. The Shadows tell of a plot against myself and you. There are those in the realm who do not agree with your decision to add me to the List and they would see me dead. However, they recognize that the only way to do that is to kill me.
But they fear the investigation that is sure to follow. They realize that you and I are childhood friends and have now put in motion plans to assassinate both of us. Please watch the shadows and the dark places closely. Be very careful of who you allow close to you.
Death flies on Avalonian winds this day. A Noble House of that land rises up against you. The Order of the Red Lions watches over you even now. We will do what must be done to protect our King.
Your humble servant and friend,
Arguyle
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The Highlander then addressed the envelope to King Constantine and gave it to his page, Kyle, to deliver.
He must stop this madness soon. Lady D'Vena was in someway connected to Hibernia. He must uncover how.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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The mercenary lass blinked a few times at the onset of words, her dark eyes narrowed when the name D'vena finally emerged. "Farking bleeding witch o' woman," she began and didn't stop for several moments the oaths rolling from her tongue. Yet she kept her voice down, not being a fool.
She finally ended her tirade, and then muttered, "Shes the farking mother o' one o' the lasses in m'guild, a noble girl that wed a common gutter rat. Ravyin's her name, and shes also Arguyle's niece. But I get the feeling ye might ha'e known all that. D'vena has some connections to Hurbury it seems, and it seems she's a bit pee'ish about ha'ing her royal wedding and what not stomped upon. Farking bleeding nobles and their bloody politics!"
"What shes got ta do with Caer, I'm nae sure o'.. ye got something on that?" She leaned back in her chair, and tugged her fingers through her black hair. Her eyes were tired, and a few lines of worry were starting to take their place on the young woman's face. Yet, she was momentarily distracted when a rather handsome, rugged highlander pushed by to find a table, and she soundly pinched his arse. He blushed and grinned, then moved quickly on.
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{old}Glavian
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With a start at the pinch to his backside, Glavian grins down at the beautiful Moryan, then turns and makes his way to a table nearby and glances back at her.
He listens intently as they speak of some noble woman named D'Vena.
"Hrm....there be a name I need ta find out more of. Lord Arguyle mentioned it when I told im of de plot against im and de King. If dis D'Vena is in some way linked wit de capture o me wife, den I may need ta pay er a visit." he thinks to himself.
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Crispian followed the line of invectives as he would a flurry of blows against him, mentally noting each one as he felt his ears grow red. Then he heard more of it, Niece, wedding, Hurbury, politics. With a slight distraction, he knew Jashen was overhearing it all from the table behind, a hooded cloak covering his matched face.
He noted the dart of hand, snip of fingers and grinned a bit, almost willing to let it pass as a flirtation. Except that Moryan was much too focused to just flirt at the moment.
"Well, uh, I sort of heard that this D'Vena has more in the works than just stripping Carrington and Arguyle of thier titles. The source is, um, close to D'Vena," he said, blushing a deep scarlet even as the feeling of revulsion returned, of finger tips, lips, lean legs. "Very close," he finished lamely, drinking deeply from his tankard and signalling for something stronger.
"I think she means to kill them both, and maybe the king."
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Moryan's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Crispian could hear a soft growl. "She means ta do WHAT ta m'cleric?" With another curse, something akin to bedding a whoring troll, she slammed her mug down on the table. A few eyes wandered in her direction, but noting the scowl on her face, they quickly moved on.
She gazed across the table at the man, sizing him up. "How did ye come by all this information? And what the hell ye blushing at? Nae e'er heard a woman curse afore? or something else is it? How DID ye get this information?" Her black eyes gaze into his demanding answers.
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The Highlander sat alone and seemingly drowned himself in his thoughts and his ale. No one even noticed that he only had the one flagon the entire time he was there. He sat close enough that he could hear the conversation between the man and woman but far enough away that it did not seem he was doing so.
He made mental notes about the conversation and finally decided that he wasn't going to learn anything else that he didn't already know and he rose to leave. As he walked by the pair he leaned close and whispered something in the woman's ear. Then with a light nibble on her ear lobe and a pat on her thigh he laughed and walked out of the tavern.
Careful that he was not being followed he made his way out of the city and rode hard for an estate outside of Snowdonia Station near Lyn Barfog. As he arrived he donned the cloak of the Order of the Red Lions and greeted the guards at the gates.
"Lo' there lads! We still on for some dice tonight?" said the Mercenary.
"Aye Uthiel! I'm always game for taking your money." laughed the younger of the two.
"Stand your post boy." said the veteran guard. "And aye Uthiel. I'll give it another go 'round."
Uthiel walked into the manor house and headed straight for the the door to Arguyle MacFadden's office. He pushed the door open and almost ran into Kyle as he was rushing out.
"Pardon me Master Uthiel." said the page as he bowed.
"Dinnae bow ta me Kyle. And I'm not yer damned Master." yelled Uthiel as the page ran down the hall.
Arguyle chuckled. "Well? Did you find anything new today?"
"Just this one thing. I was in the tavern and there was a pair talkin'. They spake of Lady D'Vena and plots of some foul sort. The lad had the look o' a good man but he was young. Wore some sort of placard that named him Seneschal something or other. The lass was a fine lookin' woman. Nice body if'n ye get me meanin'. A bit more grey in her hair than I be accustomed to but I could make due. Hell the farkin' lass e'en pinched my arse as I walked by. HAR HAR!! But I got her back on me way out. I think she was a bit taken aback when bit her ear and patted her thigh! She turned this slight pink color! HAR HAR!" said Uthiel.
Arguyle thought about the words. "It sounds as if Crispian has heeded my words then. He has started his own investigation. I pray he finds what I need. As for the woman, it sounds as if you just had a run-in with Moryan of the Wayward Band. Be careful there lad. I think she just might teach you a thing or two. No matter what you think of your bedroom abilities. HAR HAR!"
Uthiel raised an eyebrow at the red-haired Highlander. "Moryan eh? Dinnae worry yerself about me brother. Mother always did say I was the prettiest of us all." Then he winked and walked out of the room.
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As she talked to Crispian, this rather brash mercenary walked by. As he leaned over, the candlelight seemed to catch her hair, making it look a bit more gray than the deep black color it truly was. He whispered something, then she felt his teeth nibble her ear and his hand on her thigh. Hardly a day went by without that happening, she thought to herself, and as if she'd never heard THAT line before.
Frankly, she was slightly embarrassed for the poor mercenary, blushing slightly for his lame attempt to arouse her interest.
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Crispian grinned a bit sheepishly, taking a slow liking to this blunt woman. He had heard the quiet whistle from Jashen that the last line of commentary had raised. “It’s ah not your language, Moryan. As to the information, well…I’ll just say that,†he let his eyes travel over Moryan’s body to the table line, one finger running around the lip of his tankard as he dropped his eyes slightly, “politics aren’t the only interests of Lady D’Vena. And Lyonesse white is a good vintage to carry about,†he smirked a bit and failed to check another blush.
“She means to kill your cleric, Mory, and Arguyle, and anyone else that gets in her way of having this Revyin lass married to Hurbury.†He leaned back in his chair, gray eyes steady on her glinting onyx gaze. “My League usually has little interest in such matters, but Arguyle has shown me kindness in the past, and faith. It bears repaying.†He toyed with the one piece of jewelry he never took off, a badge of his Title, Seneschal of the West, entrusted co-leader of St. Crispin’s League.
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She watched his eyes and noted the slow blush. Thinking to herself, well, he either tumbled the high and might wench, or came terribly close ta it. Heh, what we do fer farking politics. Yet, he was giving her information that might save the life of Carrington, and Arguyle whom she counted as a dear friend. Fark the king, she thought to herself, shrugging mentally, but those two men she cared about.
"Well, tis a bit late ta wed her ta Lord Doran Hurbury, I dinna think he'll take a tainted woman. I think tis all about re'enge now, and what she can do ta get e'en fer our .. interferring. Shes already taken Caer's title and handed them ta that bastard farking idjit mental brother o' his, and hes ties ta a damn CULT o' all things!" She was getting upset again, but dammit, she'd just realized how much she loved the cleric, and here was something else threatening to take that away from her again.
"Well, do ye ha'e any suggestions on what we can do ta stop the bloody Lady herself? I'm nae a noble, and I'll nae e'er want ta be. We dinna ha'e the contacts fer it, nor do I ha'e the patience or want ta dabble in it. Tis the realm fer ye, Arguyle and Caer far as I'm concerned. Now, iffen ye need muscle and aid in finding information, that we can do."
And she waited for his reply.
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington awoke with a start. His head throbbed. He squinted his eyes in the darkness, unable to see anything. The last thing he knew, he had been hunting various game in Barfog, and now, well, he didn't know where he was, or what was going on.
He tugged on his arms as his eyes adjusted to the light. They were bound behind him, around some sort of pillar or pole...he couldn't tell in the pitch black, cold darkness. He sighed.
For a bit, he messed with the rope bindings, trying to work through them by shaving them lose on the stone. His entire body ached and throbbed, as if he'd been beaten, but there was no way he could tell, other than the sharp pains all around him. He sat back down and waited, exhausted. He felt as through every bit of energy had been sapped from his body. He sighed, and closed his eyes, wanting nothing else but to sleep. Just for a moment, sleep...
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Crispian leaned in to the table, grabbing Moryan's off wrist. "Lady Winchell has already written a Writ of Annulment and D'Vena steward has it locked up," he whispered fiercely. "In politics, it's never to late." He had kept his voice low, but the intensity of it drew some stares. He covered by kissing Moryan's hand, hoping those watching would think them just spatting lovers. "And that piece of paper can change much of the ah current dynamic."
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{old}Glavian
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The pretty young lass, dancing on the table and singing, was making enough noise to drown out the conversation between Moryan and this young nobleman. The song seemed to be about a farmers daughter and the things she did to a young prince.
Glavian scowls at the commoner turned Lord, as he runs his eyes up and down Moryans' perfect body, and kisses her hand.
Sipping his ale, he continues to listen intently, hoping to hear where he can find this D'Vena.
His mind working furiously he thinks:
"If D'Vena wants King Constentine, Lord Arguyle, and Carrington dead, then that means she is in league with the Hibs who captured his wife. Who in turn tried to charm Brianen with their foul magics to allow the assassins to get past the guards."
With a low growl and another scowl at the young Lord, Glavian continues to listen while pretending to watch the table dancer as she spins a circle showing her well shaped legs up to her thighs.
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With a growl, Moryan tugs her hand back. She might have understood the motives, but she was not impressed with the intent.
"Look here, iffen Lord Hurbury still wants his son ta wed a girl whats had her virginity done away with, thats his own problem. Shes happily in lo'e with the young thief, who is now a farking knight by Arguyle's doing. How in blazes they gonna make that happen!?" The dilema of the situation was starting to make the mercenary's head spin. She hated politics, hated the damn nobles, well, most of them anyways. With a scowl, her eyes darted around the room and to her surprise she spotted Glavian, pretending to be looking at the young minstrel. She knew him well enough to know he was checking up on her in some fashion. A small smile tugged at her lips, knowing she was not alone here.
"Look here Crispian, I met ye fer some answers, and all thats going on in m'head is more questions. Nae anything we can do iffen she pushes through the annulment, is there? We ha'e ta protect the lass and her husband. Thats the job o' the Wayward as they are part o' our guild, and our family. Arguyle can take care o' himself, and he knows I'm here iffen he needs me. As fer Carrington, we need ta get it known that his brother is a cult member, and see iffen we can re'erse his fortunes just a bit. Iffen Caer canna inherit, neither should that bastard brother o' his."
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Sliding into the seat next to Galavain, Jashen nudged him and grinned. "Good dancer, ain't she friend?" His sly expression belied his intent though.
Galavain looked back at Moryan and the young man, then at the stranger next to him...
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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<cough> Glavian <cough>
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{old}Glavian
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Taking another sip from his ale, Glavian eyes the newcomer sideways as he takes a seat.
"Aye, she is indeed." he says as he leans back in his chair. The large mercenary crosses his arms and rests his hands on his sword hilts.
"Be der somethin ye want, lad?" he asks Jashen, as he continues to watch the dancer, and Moryan, and tries to make out any more of the conversation.
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/ooc Eke - new line for your Tag -Crispian typo of the day!
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/ooc Bah, you have to turn typo's into an artform like Carrington does.
I never did mention the .. his eyes roam across your curses and breasts one..
<COUGHS>
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Jashen smirked and shook his head. "Just keeping an eye for me brother," he said, leaning back, arms crossed on his chest, not putting his hands near his own sword hilts. "As others are watching mine. What say we just join the couple, before Moryan belts my brother one?"
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Glavian, still cautious of this newcomer, says
"Bah, if'n we interupt Moryan, we'll be de ones gettin belted me thinks. I prefer me ale and a tune if ye do nae mind, and me face intact."
Then he motions to a serving wench for another ale.
"Why would ye be lookin out fer yer brother. I kin assure ye he be in no danger wit Moryan near im, unless he keeps eyein er like dat."
Then nods toward the couple as Crispians' eyes, once again follow the shapely curve of the young female Merc.
"Even then me thinks she'd hurt is pride more den anythin." he says with a grin.
Taking his hands from his sword hilts, he extends one toward the lad and says
"Glavian Tanriel, Knight of de Royal Order."
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Drannog
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Above Caer, a creak is heard in the rafters, then silence. A moment later, a thread is lowered and a fat rat makes its way down. For a moment, the varmit paused on the rope, spinning slowly in the halflight, examining Caer. With a hop, the mouse landed before Caer and ran behind him.
Whiskers tickled at the cleric's wrists, but it was worth it. The ropes were sheared by a certain pair of sharp teeth, and as Caer lifted his bleeding hands to his face, the mouse scurried back into sight.
There the rat uncoiled his tail to show a Whitethorne signet ring for a moment, before scurrying back up the rope and out of sight.
-------------------
Many miles away, Lord Benowyc arrived in Camelot for his meeting with the Whitethorn.
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Time was short, and the rat had much land to cross. Wind held his whiskers along his flanks as he sped, hugging the ground, through fields. As the moon rose above him, it glinted off a signet ring rolling behind the rat on an axel of tail.
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Elaet hopes that she can repay the rat for freeing her good friend Caer. Maybe she will cross his path again someday.
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The lad smiled, the quick easy smile of a self-assured man.
"Jashen Pontiff, Knight of the League of St. Crispin." He shook the pro-offered hand and signalled for more ale. "And I think you're right. Crispian could get himself in some trouble there."
Jashen began to half pay attention to the dancer, still watching Galvain with part attention.
At the other table, Crispian sat back, considering Moryan's words. Indeed, more questions seemed to rise with each statement, with each possible answer. Her dedication to Carrington was so evident, so fierce. He thought wistfully for a moment to his own Ellena, dead since they were both teens in the raid the drove him into the Realm, to defend against all foes, especially Midgard. He smiled, relaxing back into his chair.
"So where do we go for answers, Moryan? Or who?"
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Carrington layed against the pillar, his hands behind it, his head slumped. Just then, a loud creak was heard as the door opened, and light flooded into the room. There, stood an old, grey-haired, disfigured monster of a man with a body covered with scars, and holding an executioner's axe. The man lumbered foreward and hacked for a moment, as though coughing up an entire lung. He grinned with a toothless mouth, his swollen eyes gleaming. He lined up the axe, and brought it back, lining it up with the blonde cleric's neck.
Just then, Carrington, his hands free, slid out of the way as the axe whisked through the air and clanked hard against the stone pillar, sparks shooting through the air. Carrington kicked the huge man in the knee from the floor, and with a growl, the monster tumbled. With one swift movement, Carrington flung the hammer from it's hold and brought it down hard, and needless to say, fatally across the back of the beast's head. He left the hammer lay for a moment, and stood, looking at his wrists. That damned mouse had saved him...the same one that had been following him around for weeks. he rubbed his wrists, now free from the bindings and sighed.
Before leaving, he kicked the corpse of the monster-man, then adjusted his cloak. And walked out.
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Moryan shrugged her shoulders. "I suggest ye go back where ye got the information the first time. We need an inside source. Can ye stomach it again, get in her good graces and stay there?"
"I've got ta go.. Caer .. I think he needs me." She nods to Crispian, and winks at Glavian, then leaves quickly without a glance back.
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Crispian sat there stunned even at the suggestion Moryan made, watching her flee. His jaw hung slack like a troll trying to finish a sentence. With a mental groan he thought, "What have I gotten into NOW?" and signalled Jashen to come to the table.
Jashen stood, raised an eyebrow at Glavain and walked over.
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As Moryan headed for the door to the tavern to set out to find Carrington she was met by a troop of armed guards. They bore the standard of King Constantine. She recognized them for the King's guard right away.
The Captain of the Guard stepped forward and said, "Moryan of the Wayward Band, you are ordered to come with us to the Palace."
That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. He then stepped aside to allow her to step into the protection of the Guard.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Tannir shrank back harder against the wall, praying with all his might to remain hidden. As the troop marched the woman away, a beautiful one at that, he bolted across the street and into the tavern.
He glanced about, ran to Crispian's table, and said a bit too loud, "The King's guards just nabbed the lady, m'lord."
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan scowled, but nodded once, and followed the men to the palace to see what the hell the mighty king Constantine would want with her.
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bump
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CarringtonSony
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/back to the top...
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Mali principii malus finus.
Don't open it.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Crispian looked at Tannir is semi-disbelief. The KING? By Arthur's horse's third ball but this was getting bad!
"Tannir, get me something, uh, courtly ready. Jashen, find Rasputyn. I have a job for him at the Palace." He turned on heel and started out of the tavern, "Oh, and Jashen, cover for me til tomorrow morning."
He was gone before Jashen's scowl had turned to full outrage as he looked at Tannir and then at Glavain. "Well, get to it!" he snapped at the young Squire before turning back to his drinking companion of the last few minutes. "And can you enlighten me any here?"
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan strode along with the guard, wondering if she was to be imprisoned or what. She hadn't done anything she was aware of, well, least not recently. What would the farking king want with just a lowly mercenary? Course, she was guildmistress, and now this damn Jealyan D'vena was putting her nose in everywhere. And the nobles seemed keen on her guild since the days when it was the Crimson Band.
She sighed, then straightened her shoulders and tugged her fingers through her hair. Farking king or nae, she was going to keep her dignity intact. Suddenly she wondered, is swearing in front of a king punishable by hanging?
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King_Constantine
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The Captain of the Guard watched Moryan closely as she was led to the Palace. When they reached the outer gates she he ordered the escort to halt.
He turned to face Moryan and said, "You must disarm yourself. Turn over your weapons to me and they shall be kept at the guard station for safe keeping. They will be returned to you upon leaving the Palace grounds."
He waited for her to hand over her weapons.
Moryan looked at him as if he had asked for her to cut off her arm. "I do nae turn over me farkin' weapons to anyone."
The Captain raised an eyebrow at her and said, "Moryan of the Wayward Band, you have been commanded to attend the King. No man or woman outside of the King's Guard enters the King's presence armed. Now hand over your weapons or face the consequences of denying the King's command."
The Captain never raised his voice. He simply spoke the words as if he expected to be obeyed. Moryan could tell by looking at the man that he was not one to be trifled with. Reluctantly she unstrapped her weapons and handed them over to the Captain.
"There ye farkin' are. They better be here when I get back." said Moryan.
"The dagger tucked under your kilt as well." said the Captain.
Moryan blinked. She wondered just how the man knew about that. She reached under her kilt and pulled the dagger free, handing it over to the Captain.
"Sorry. I fergot that one." she said giving him here sweetest smile.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Then she slowly bent, and pulled the two from her ankle sheathes, the two from her thigh sheathes. Then the one from its sheath against her back. And finally, she took the two from their straps at her wrists. She mentally counted, and made sure the brace of them she wore was already in the Captain's hands.
"Iffen that farking magma sword is harmed in any way, ye'll be bleeding answering ta me." She gazed at him, nodded, and went forward to meet with the King.
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{old}Glavian
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Upon hearing the news of Moryan, Glavian threw a silver on the table to cover his, and Jashens, drinks, and donned his cloak.
Looking at Jashen, he replies;
"Nay, lad. I dunna know why de King would want er fer anything, unless....Bah, if de bleedin high and mighty wanted a bed partner, I dunna think he'd want a highlander lass. Looks like I'll be needin ta get some elp on dis one."
Shaking his head, obviously disturbed about his last thought, he stormed from the tavern and headed toward the market square.
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King_Constantine
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As the escort led Moryan through the halls of the Palace to the Great Room she saw the many tapestries hanging on the walls. Tapestries depicting the battles of Arthur. Visions of the glory of that time ran through her mind. She couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed in these halls.
Then her thoughts were interrupted by the Captain of the Guard speaking to her.
"When you are in the presence of the King you will address him as Your Majesty or Sire. You will curtsey upon introducing yourself and you will not swear in front of the King. This day you will act a proper Lady. Even if you never do again. It is a great honor to meet and speak with the King. Conduct yourself accordingly."
That was it. The man never seemed to show emotion. He was as focused as a man could be. His eyes darting down every corridor. He seemed to be totally aware of everything that was happening around him.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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"Believe it or nae, I can control how I bleeding act. Yer king brought me here, now ye going ta farking show me in or what?" She swore at him, just to relax herself a bit.
And she vowed to herself, she was not going to curtsey, he'll get a damn bow like everyone else does.
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Crispian stopped briefly at the chambers he shared with Jashen, thankful it was late and few were about. He donned an outfit of fine materials and scooped up his Guild ring, mentally setting himself to be able to contact any whom he may need. Then, he head for The D'Vena house again.
It was not so much that Lady D'Vena herself was not fetching. Her tall Avalonian body was still in fine shape for a woman of her years. Her brown hair a luxourant cascade down her back and green eyes that perhaps once held warmth. Her manner and bearing were all noble. It was her soul that Crispian found so repelling. He swallowed down his pride and remembered that there was a cause he was serving, and certain personal distastes must be stomached. He DID wish, however, that he were fighting pygmy goblins. At least they were foes that just tried to rip your guts out openly.
The Stewart of the House conduct him to the private withdrawing were D'Vena lounged. The young man's eyes took in Crispian almost the way D'Vena's did and the warrior repressed a smirk.
"So, young Crispian, you return again so soon?" she purred, her hand stroking his forearm.
Control a shudder, Crispian smiled. "Aye, m'lady. Your company was most," he raised an eyebrow, "entertaining."
He hoped that what he was about to endour yield some deeper information.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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King_Constantine
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The Captain of the Guard then barked, "Halt!"
The escort stopped abruptly and the Captain turned to face Moryan. He seemed to tower over her. Somehow seeming taller than he had before. He glared at Moryan obviously becoming annoyed. Then just as quickly as the expression had come upon his face it was gone. The towering height however was not.
"You will cease your cursing now. You are in the Palace of King Constantine and you must conduct yourself with some modicum of respect. The greatest warriors and mightiest of Lords bow before the King. The fairest of Ladies and strongest of fighters curtsey before him. He is a good man. A fair man. He will not tell you you to do these things therefore I will tell to do them. He deserves your admiration and respect regardless of what your Band may think. He is not a mere Noble Lord or Lady who has an inflated sense of self-worth. My King is a man of the utmost honorable character and you will show him respect. Now let me see your curtsey."
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{old}Alyzabeth
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The mercenary wench folded her arms across her chest and glared back at the Captain. Then, her features changed to an impish grin and she said in a soft, simpering voice, "But m'lord Captain, I am but a wayward young woman swooned ta the e'il life o' a mercenary. I am ill-knowing the verra graces o'f court and its mighty happenings. Perhaps, ye would be so kind as ta teach me exactly how a proper woman is ta curtsey? I've ne'er tried and I would hate ta look a fool and fall upon my arse in front o' yer noble and gracious king."
"Or perhaps ye'll just let me bow as I know how ta do, and show him the proper respect a 'warrior' gi'es ta another. I am a simple mercenary, but I can show respect. Iffen tis nae good enough fer yer king, then I'm sorry."
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King_Constantine
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The Captain looked around and shouted out to a young lady who appeared to be some sort of a lesser noble based upon her fine silken dress.
"Lady Mansfield, would you attend me for a moment please?" said the Captain.
"But of course M'Lord Captain General." said the Lady.
"It seems that a guest of the King's is unfamiliar with the more gentle ways of the Lady. Would you mind teaching her quickly the proper manner in which to curtsey when she meets His Majesty?" asked the Captain.
"But of course. You see my dear lass it is very important for a Lady to carry and present herself properly when amongst the Court. Now if you will follow my lead I shall show you the proper manner in which to curtsey." said the Lady.
She then proceeded to explain and demonstrate the Art of Curtseying to Moryan of the Wayward Band.
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Jaelyan eyed the young man, and her tongue darted across her lips. She beckoned him over to sit next to her. "Did thee bring some more of that delightful wine this time mine dear lad? It was quite delicious."
She ran her fingers through his hair, and her bright green eyes took in his handsome features. "Shall we, become more comfortable? Surely thee do nae need such trappings." Her long nimble fingers began to work the buttons of his doublet.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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The wench watched the simpering young girl demonstrate the curtsey, over and over. With a groan, she rolled her eyes.
"Fine Captain, I've seen enough. Shall we go?"
She eyed the Captain with a dark, intense gaze. "I'm ready ta get this o'er with, though I am sure ye be lo'ing m'company and want ta keep me around longer."
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{old}Glavian
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Coming to the market square, Glavian scanned the area and quickly spotted the person he was looking for.
Slifijen was pilfering a pouch from the waist of what looked to be a farmer, just as he was cutting the purse string, Glavian grabbed his wrist and hoisted him up to the merchant stand.
"Well now, shall I just call fer de guardians? Or do ye mean ta tell me dis is a job fer the guild. Either way me thinks guild master Ariakus will be most unhappy with ye." said the strong mercenary as he tossed the pouch back to the grateful farmer.
With a hiss the scrawny man said "I'll have yer hide fer this highlander. How dare you show yer mug around here again!"
"So the guardians it is." Glavian said as he started dragging the thief toward the nearest guard.
"Wait, wait!" said the little man "Waddya want merc? More info? You know if Ariakus hears you are scamming me we are both as good as dead."
The highlander replied;
"Hah! I deal with death everyday. How bout ye, little man?"
Stopping near the doorway to a clothing shop, Glavian drug Slifijen inside and said
"I need ta get inta de palace right now. It has ta be a place where I kin hear an audience wit de King."
"Are you daft!! That place is crawling with guards, word on the street is the King has recieved death threats. I doubt we could get within thirty paces of the audience chamber." said Slifijen.
Dragging the thief out the side door to the ally, Glavian drew his dagger and said
"Well now, I'll be payin ye one hundred gold ta try or ye kin die right here."
"Alright, alright, you bleedin maniac. Follow me, and be quick about it. If there is an audience then most of the guards will be inside."
With that, the thief headed off toward the main street.
The two ran down back allies toward the palace, and turned into a tavern built against the wall of the city. Climbing the stairs to the top floor, they entered a storage room. The room was musty and dark with just enough light coming in the dusty window. Grabbing a stool, Slifijen climbed up and pushed a trap door to the side and jumped up to catch the edge. Glavian quickly grabbed the thief by the ankle and pulled him back down with a thud.
"I think I'll be goin first. I dunna trust ye."
The big man then jumped up and caught the edge and hoisted himself up. Reaching back down he caught the arm of the thief and pulled him up along side of him. Slifijen slid the tile back into place and strolled across the room to a skylight window, and pushed it open.
Climbing out onto the roof, the two glanced around then the thief jumped the five foot gap to the top of the palace wall. Glavian followed suit, and the two made their way around to the opposite side of the main building.
Peeking around the corner, Slifijen grinned as he saw the lone guardian leaning on his elbows looking down on the street below. Walking casually out in the open he said
"Ho there Hadishin."
The startled guard turned and frowned at the dirty little man.
"Waddya want now Slif. I cannot let you in today, the guards will be all over you." said the guardian.
Pulling a pouch of coins from under his cloak, the thief said
"I'll pay you double, and I will not even be going below. I only need to get into the crawl space above the audience hall. I'll cause no trouble, on my word." he said with a glance back at the Mercanary walking toward them.
"Well who the bloody hell is this!?! If you get caught, it is the dungeon for me you know." said the guardian eyeing the large highlander up and down.
Glavian spoke up "We will cause no trouble, ye kin be sure o it. I be a Knight of the Royal Order, on me oath as a Knight we shall be in and out with none de wiser."
With a nod toward the rooftop door, the guardian said "Alright, but I know where you are, any sign of trouble and I raise the alarm."
"Agreed" said Glavian
Slifijen lead the way into the upper floor of the palace and down a hall to the right. Stopping halfway down the hall, he bent down to the floor and drew a dagger, quickly glanced both ways, and slid it into a crack along the wall. With a click a small door, about two feet high, swung inward and he crawled in. Glavian followed and closed the door behind him.
The crawl space had light coming in from the far end and the two crawled down to a ledge overlooking the audience chamber.
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King_Constantine
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"Don't flatter yourself Moryan." said the Captain.
With that he gave the order to proceed and as one the escort began moving down the hall to the Great Room. The boots ringing off of the walls gave off a most ominous sound.
Then they reached the double doors to the Great Room. The Captain stepped to the front of the escort. The guards posted at the doors saluted and asked, "Captain General Windsor, who do you bring before the King?"
"Moryan, Guildmistress of the Wayward Band, upon the King's request." replied the Captain.
"Very good. Wait with patience while the King is informed of your arrival." said the Guard. One of the guards then disappeared inside the Great Room.
Moments later he returned and said, "His Majesty is ready for you now. Please proceed."
The doors swung open and the Captain ordered the escort forward. As they approached the throne sitting upon a dais the escort parted and left Moryan and the Captain General standing before the King. The Captain General immediately put his right fist over his heart and bowed deeply.
He then stood straight and said, "Your Majesty, I present to you Moryan, Guildmistress of the Wayward Band."
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan eyed the King for a moment, then with the simple courtesy she is used to giving to those she respects, she bowed deeply, elegantly without a hint of self-consciousness. "Sire, I am Moryan, mercenary and Guildmistress o' The Wayward Band. It seems ye sent fer me?"
She watched the Captain's reaction out of the corner of her eye, and then waited for the King to speak. She tugged her fingers idley through her hair, dark eyes taking in the man whose fancy ruled the land.
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King_Constantine
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The King stood and stepped down from the dais. He walked toward Moryan with a confidence not seen in most men. He extended his hand to her and waited for her to accept it. After she reached out to grip his hand he said, "Thank you for coming Moryan. I am sorry that I had to do this under an armed guard but I fear for the life of any associated with me."
The King was a very handsome man. His long dark hair hung in curly locks to his shoulders. He was a tall, strong man. He wore a kilt but he was not a Highlander.
"I have been watching the activities of your Wayward Band since it's inception. You have all done a very good job of defending the common folk of our land and for that I thank you. It is after all the common people that mark the true character of a land. It is the people that you defend and the very defenders themselves that will ensure Albions future." said the King. Odd word coming from a Noble but he seemed sincere in his statements.
"I fear, however, that I must ask you to place your Band in the path of danger. Not for the peasants you have sworn to defend. At least not directly. But instead for three individuals. I ask you to do this for the man you are involved with, Carrington Whitethorne. I ask you to do this for the man you call friend, Arguyle MacFadden and I ask you to do this for the man I hope you will someday call friend, me. I could order you to do this or be disbanded but I do not wish that. I wish for you to do this of your own free will and accord."
The King paused for a moment and stared off into the distance as if in thought. Then he looked back to her and said, "You have already seen what has happened to Carrington. I shall see that righted I promise you. What you may not know is that there is a plot in place now to assassinate both myself and your friend Arguyle MacFadden. What I need from you is two things. I need for your Band to gather information about who is behind this plot. I suspect that it is Lady D'Vena. If you can get me solid evidence of this I can stop this farse immediately. We both know that she is angry and blames Lord MacFadden for the marriage of her daughter. The second thing that I need to ask you is to keep a watchful eye on Arguyle. Not many know this but I consider him a brother. We played together as children. We dreamed together of glory and battles. I would not see him harmed before I can bring the full fury of Albion down upon those who conspire against the realm. His Order is there I know but any help I can give him I would."
He stopped and waited for Moryan to soak it all in. Then he asked, "Moryan, can you do these things for me? I fear that I can trust very few to do these things with the fidelity required. You are close to two of the three targets in this plot. I know that you do not know me and judging by your past and your present proclamations you do not trust me because of the circumstances of my birth. I ask you to please trust me now though. Know that I want the same things you want. I want for all of our citizens to live a life free of harassment and pain. I ask for your trust and your friendship Moryan. Can you do this?"
The King then waited for the Mercenary's response.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Surpressing a deep shudder, Crispian brought out a bottle of wine, already uncorked, and began to pour, allowing Jaelyan's hands to continue removing his outer garments. Although the lady's touch was not Entirely unpleasant, he still found his mind shrinking from that touch.
He had her a goblet of wine, and retained one for himself, smiling shyly and putting on his most vacant look. "The Lady has good taste in wines, I must confess." His eyes sought out any place in the immediate chamber where it might be possible to secret documents that he might want to see.
As her wants became more obvious, Crispian cast a prayer to his patron and Martyr, Crispin, that such duplicity as he enacted now would be forgiven, as the cause was just. Then, he surrendered himself to more base instincts, the wine making it a bit more palatable.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan's eyes were a bit wide at the King's words, and she was quite a bit taken aback. Thoughts tumbled through her head as she tried to sort out just what he wanted, why her guild. Why her? Aye, the obvious was there, but still.
She gazed at him, taking in his features and the sincerity of his voice.
"Aye, Sire, I think I can pledge m'support on this. I am in lo'e with Carrington, and I would do anything ta see him restored ta what is his. Arguyle is a dear friend o' mine as well.
"And aye, I dinna know ye at all, but that can always be remedied. I know o' folks already seeking the information needed ta foil the witch and her foul plots, hopefully twill be enough. But, I am a mercenary m'lord, what be in it fer me?" And she grins a bit at this, somehow almost trusting the King.
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{old}Glavian
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Glavian and Slifijen listen to the Kings words far below them.
At Moryans request for payment, Glavian barely supresses a chuckle, and Slifijen eyes him with fear, and a plea to remain silent.
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King_Constantine
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The King looked to her at that last question. He chuckled a bit and said, "Well, if the knowledge that you have served your friends and your King well are not enough then I suppose we can find a little something else. I fear that money is something easily attained for one such as you so that will not do."
The King stopped and thought for a moment. What could he give her that she could not attain on her own? Then it dawned on him.
"Moryan, might I ask the name of the village that you grew up in?" asked the King.
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She frowns slightly, and says softly, "Twas nae a village Sire, just a small farm on the outskirts o' the Southern Black Mountains. ... Why?"
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King_Constantine
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"In honor of the Wayward Band's aid in this dark time I would like to set up the area that you grew up as a haven to all of those who are harried and caused pain by the Nobles of the land. If they feel that their Noble Lord or Lady has wronged them or close to them they may come to this area and lodge a formal complaint with my personal clerks. Those complaints will be given to me weekly and I shall hold Court with the Lords and Ladies and right the wrongs. The folk of the land will be under my protection and shall have no need to fear retaliation." said the King.
Then he waited for Moryan's reaction.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan gasps, and simply stands gape-jawed for a moment. "Are ye.. ye'd do that? Ye'd truly do that, and ye'd listen and make amends?"
It was unbelievable, was he lying to her, she didn't think so. But why? Why now? A million things tumbled through her mind, but she knew he was waiting. And she knew such an offer was not lightly coming again.
"Aye Sire, I'll accept such a thing. That ye'll listen ta yer people and redress the grie'ous wounds done them by the Nobles o' yer lands."
With this, Moryan turned and bowed low to the King, graceful and elegant.
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CarringtonSony
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"As long as I can head it, your Majesty."
A voice said, flinging the doors open of the throne chambers. And the blonde haired-cleric kneeled, presenting himself before King Constantine, and standing to the side of his love.
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Mali principii malus finus.
Don't open it.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Rasputyn gave a start from the deep recess he was in and ALMOST whistled in surprise.
Then he drew shadows about him and sank deeper into the dimness, moving slowly out of the chamber, for news like this would not hold.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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King_Constantine
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King Constantine looked up from Moryan and saw the blonde haired cleric kneeling. He noted the way the man looked at Moryan and the cloak proudly displaying the emblem of the Order of the Red Lions emblem.
"You must be Count Whitethorne. I knew your father. He spoke very fondly of you. Fear not Carrington for you shall be returned to your estates before I am done. As for who shall be in charge of the Haven I shall leave that to Moryan." said the King.
He looked to Moryan with a look of deep gratitude and said, "Now if you will all excuse me I fear I have some other people to see. Regrettably they are not quite as pleasant as you all are. For that I will be most grieved. You all have much work to do anyway I think so I shall leave you to it."
Then as if remembering something he continued, "Oh...Moryan...please take this parchment. It bears my personal crest and orders that you are acting on my behalf. Keep it safe and use it only if you have need."
After handing it to her the King left the Great Room discussing with his Steward the upcoming meeting.
Captain General Windsor turned to Moryan and bowed.
"You did well M'Lady. I pray that you now see that not all of the Nobles are like the ones you despise. Our King is a good and just man. He will not do you wrong." said the Captain General.
With that he spun on his heels and followed after the King.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan gazed at the letter with the seal of the King, and carefully tucked it into her bags. Then she looked at Carrington, and with a nod, grasped his hand and left the chamber and the palace.
She had much to discuss with him, her guild, and her alliance.
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{old}Glavian
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Glavian smiled down on his little sister, he was so proud of what she had just accomplished. With new respect showing in his eyes for the king, he nodded to Slifijen, and they worked their way back to the doorway.
Stopping at the end of the crawl space, the thief opened the small door and peered out into the hall. Seeing no one near, he crawled out and motioned for Glavian to follow. He then closed the door, and walked to the rooftop door.
Glavian paused outside, and handed the guard some more coin for his trouble, and lept to the roof across the ally. Slifijen followed and they were soon walking down the street toward east gate.
Glavian stopped and handed the thief a pouch containing one hundred gold.
"As much as I hate you, merc. I could see us doing business again." said the little man while bouncing the pouch in his hand.
"We shall see." the mercenary replied. then turned and walked through the gates toward the stables.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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The moonlight slanted through a high window. Crispian watched it creep across the floor for several minutes before delicately extracting himself from the woman's embrace. He found it more tolerable if he used that label...the Woman.
He slid into the velveteen hose that had been discarded earlier and pull the soft half-boots on. Slipping the doubtlet over his barechest, he grabbed the tunic up and padded across the room.
Several minutes of furtive rummaging yeilded nothing and with a slight oath, he moved to the door, felt soles of the boots near silent against the woven carpet. He eased the latch up and slipped into the hallway.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Jashen sat shuffling papers around at Crispian's workspace, Seneschal's badge on. The single sword at his left hip felt unbalanced, almost as bad as the sombre expression he wore. League members had been plentiful tonight, and some almost caught a slip or two, but he made it through just fine.
Rasputyn slid through the door, and without a pause, greeted him, "Jashen, Cris not back yet?" The taller Briton, as dark as Jashen was fair, set on the table's edge. "There news." He flicked a dagger from nowhere and twirled it against his hand.
"What news?" Jashen said, almost eager for ANYTHING to break the monotony. He leaned forward on his elbows. "C'mon Rasp, give, what?"
Rasputyn slowly smiled, a crooked infiltrator type smile. "Carrington Whitethorne is free."
Jashen's draw dropped slightly open. "Well, for all of the...you mean...well, Morgana's scared tits! We've got to let Crisp know!"
He was half to the door when he stopped. "But he's snooping at D'Vena's by now."
Rasputyn laughed a dry, wicked laugh. "An armsman, snoop? And I was surpised when that wench bowed even to the king!" He laughed louder at that.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Drannog
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As Lord Benowyc waited, he and his men became increasingly agitated. It had been two hours in the described pub, and this Whitethorne had not arrived.
Angrily, the keep lord stormed from the place with his entourage and rode off, cursing the name Whitethorn, and a large mouse lugging an increasingly heavy-seeming ring stepped from the shaddows with a disappointed look on his face.
Pausing to rub his whiskers, he rolled the ring slowly back and forth for a moment and looked about at the humans paying him no mind. At last he vanished into the shadows to plan his next moves....
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Drannog
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The wooden training dummy was clackering to the empty room as a furry of blows landed on it. The mouse had eliminated conditioned duality and was at one with the universe... he was one with the training... one with his blows... one with his paws. He was in the m'fn goove...
Speed built as his concentration deepened, and as sweat poured from his whiskers he was interrupted... A wooden peg had been broken into splinters, ending his training for the day.
With a bow, the mouse left the training room and returned to his meditations
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Back up to the top with you.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Slipping down the quiet corridor, Crispian paused outside an ornate door, looking about carefully. A slick of cold sweat had formed from nerves and he dearly wished there was someone to just hit like an Armsman ought to. Carefully, he lifted the latch and slipped inside the chamber.
The dim light filtering into the room revealed few details, but enough. There was a large writing stand to one side, a high stool behind it. A wide, ornate table dominated the center of the small chamber, parchment, quills and ink pots neatly spaced on it surface. And on a side board stood a solid bookstand, with ornate brass woodwork.
Crispian lit a candle from flint and steel and moved quietly to the bookstand. A wide hinge was at the back and he carefully lifted the top, swallowing his fear in a loud gulp.
Inside there were parchments, rolled and tied with silk of different colors. Two stood out, as their ribbons were in the colors of the Order of the Red Lions! Carefully, he lifted them and read. His lips moved as he puzzled out some of the words soundings, although the meaning came clear through to him.
His tanned face paled as he read down each scroll. Re-rolling and tying the two, he moved to a third, bound in the vermillion reserved for Church Hierarchs. The stunned feeling he had was slowly replaced with near gut-wrenching naseau.
With a growing feeling of dread, he continued, reading two more scrolls, each increasing the sinking feeling in his stomach. As he replaced the fifth scroll and lowered the lid of the bookstand, there was a sound behind him.
He whirled to see the steward standing at the door, saffron night shift hanging to the ground. "Here now! What are you doing in the Lady's study, boy?" he snapped, his voice high with tension and irritation.
Crispian's mind raced, for to be caught here could be death! Or worse! His heart pounded and he could feel the viens in his neck pulsing. He treid running his tongue over his lips to wet them, but it was drier than an Avalonian's wit.
"Well, don't just gawk at me, boy, speak up! Have an answer!" The steward stalked his way across the room, and stood within inches of Crispian's face, brown eyes boring into Crispian's grays.
"I uh was seeking um YOU!" he grabbed on a sudden thought, praying this would not cost him more than the night already had. "I have needs to depart suddenly and wished not to disturb the lady, but ah..." His thoughts froze, panic nibbling at terror. Damn these politics! Damn Arguyle for inspiring a sense of loyalty! And Damn Moryan for her blunt, honest, passionate friendship with Carrington! What business had a barely twenty-year old peasant-raised lad in THESE kinds of intregues? Forty-one seasons of campaign or not, Crispian still felt his youth ill-equipping him for moments like this!
"But, what?" the steward demanded, eye flicking momentarily across Crispian's bare-chest under the doublet. And Crispian seized a plan!
"I was hoping," he said in a demuring voice, hoping it struck imitation fair of the younger court girls he had met so recently, "that perhaps you had times you could get away from your - ah - household duties?"
He dropped his eyes, cursing himself for not bringing a good sword, but the ruse from earlier had been not the kind that a sword blended with easily.
The steward ran a finger down Crispian's chest. "Perhaps so," he purred. Crispian held a hiss of anger in and clenched his jaw tight. "Send me word of when, lad. I thought the lady was a bit, well, old for you, but never thought..."
Mercifully, the steward did NOT continue that thought. Crispian grabbed up his discarded tunic and nodded, not feigning the nervousness he now felt. "I shall, but it must be discreet due to our - ah - mutual standings."
He moved toward the door, intentionally mimicing Moryan's bold struck. He had just gained the door when the steward grab his wrist, turning him about.
In a movement unexpected, the steward was suddenly kissing Crispian. Fighting the urge to strike the man, Crispian groaned and broke loose from the man's grasp.
"I must be away before I am over missed," he muttered and scrabbled out of the room, down the hall and out of the building. Without a pause, he raced across town to his chambers, for much must get down this might.
A beggar, sleeping in the shelter of the Defenders Guild building, found himself the sudden reciepiant of a cost tunic, tossed upon by a young man racing by.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Arguyle sat on the balcony of his apartments and watched as a young man who appeared to be Crispian ran by. He kept looking behind him and he was wiping frantically at his face. Almost as if he were trying to wipe some foul tasting fluid from his mouth.
The young armsman had a look of fear and disgust on his face. Arguyle leaned over the railing and watched as the armsman entered the Defenders guild hall.
Curious what the lad was doing at this hour and why he was dressed as if he were a Court Rooster he quickly rose and slipped an old chain hauberk over his head. He took up his sword and headed down to the Defender's guild to see what had Crispian so riled.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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((hehe.. Moryan walks like that so she GETS noticed, grabbed and kissed..best think bout that next time.))
Moryan was wandering the streets late at night, still trying to sort out her thoughts. This new business with Lynx and his father was getting her distracted from the meeting with the King.
"Hell and damnation" she swore, as Crispian ran by her like the demons of hell were chasing him. She saw him throw something at a beggar, then slip into the Defenders. She decided to follow to see what he was about, maybe he'd learned something new.
As she turned the corner, she bumped shoulders with the great, shaggy, red-headed paladin she called friend.
"Arguyle, what are ye doing lurking around at this hour? and in that smelly old chain!" Her nose wrinkled and she grinned up at her friend.
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Arguyle caught the woman that he had run into around the shoulders to keep her from falling to the ground.
"Pardon me M'Lady. I did not see..." he stopped. "Moryan? What am I doing out at this hour? What in blazes are you doing out here? BAH! Nevermind that. Crispian seems to be in some touble. Come on."
With that he darted off toward the Defender's guild. Then the last part of her question registered.
"And this chain does not smell!!" yelled the Paladin.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Stripping as he entered, Crispian wakened both Jashen and Tannir. Inside of a minute, he was devested of all garments and dumping an ewer of water over his head. "Holy Bolts of Arse-Fire that Woman and her household are VILE!" he raged, gulping wine down from a flagon as Tannir fetched more water.
"Calm down, Crisp, it can't be that bad!" Jashen soothed, knowing his twin well enough to let him rage a bit first. The last time Crispian had been this upset was...oh Lord that was a LONG time ago!
"Jash, it was so...revolting!" He poured the water Tannir offered over his head, then accepted a towel from the lad and began drying off.
"But what did you learn?" Jashen tried redirecting the topic as he offered Crispian fresh linen breeches. "Anything useful?"
Stepping into the breeches, Crispian was interrupted by a knocking at the door, then the head of Ardy, a highlander recently initiated to the League, popped in. "Pardon me, siar, but there be a brute of a Bairn seekin' to see ye. Said to tell ye his name be Arguyle MacFadden, but he dinna look like the pompous blow-hard many e're to make him ti be, siar."
Smirking around a mouthful of wine, Crispian nodded. "Show the Lord General up, Ardy MacArdy, and bit ye quick aboot it," he drolled in his worst highlander accent.
Pulling a rough-spun tunic on, he was still barefoot as he saluted Arguyle, just entering in the chain of a common working solider. "Lord General, a pleasure."
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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She yelled out, "It farking reeks ye blasted highlander," and quickly followed, pushing into the room behind Arguyle to spy Crispian looking a bit wide-eyed and very damp.
Barefoot and in home-spun, she admired the lad and grinned impishly from beside Arguyle and his stinking chain.
"Sooo.. what ha'e ye been up ta?" She sniffs the air,"is that a woman's perfume I smell on ye?"
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Arguyle looked at the three men in the room. Then he began to speak.
"Crispian, lad, are you alright? I saw you running down the street as if you were being chased by a Barrow Wight. And the way you were wiping your face you would think you had just been sloppily kissed by a hairy faced man." said the Highlander.
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Arguyle stumbled forward a bit as Moryan pushed into the room. He then stepped closer to her so that she could get a good 'sniff' of his favorite chain.
"Moryan, your mind never strays far from the carnal pleasures of life does it?" laughed the Paladin.
Then he bent down and picked her up giving her a stout hug. "I am damn glad to see you again lass. I was afraid that this business with D'Vena had claimed you."
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{old}Alyzabeth
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"Is there something other than carnal pleasures? And I did think I was in a bit o' a tiff there with the bloody king and all. Seems he liked m'bow and we've got other things ta deal with there. But fer now, I want ta hear what Crispian has been up ta. His lips do look like they've some stray hairs.."
She grinned and returned Arguyle's hug, then casually leaned against the smelly old highlander waiting for Crispian to compose himself.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Raking his fingers through his hair and getting it to mostly stay in place, Crispian sank onto the edge of his bunk. "Ah, Tannir fetch some Ale for the General and something stronger for the Wench." He motioned to them both to sit as Jashen brought high backless stools over.
"Forgive me if the accomodations are a bit sparse, but I'm really just a simple country lad." He twined his fingers and hooked them over one knee, holding to his chest. Jashen, settling against the far wall but staying in view of both guests, smirked at the pose he called "Crispian pretending Calm" and waited, for he too sought the news of the night.
"At first light tomorrw, you, Lord Arguyle, are apparently sending two missives out. One to Lord Hurdury, and one to Council of Clerics. In them, you admit to aiding in the rune-i-nation of Revyin, sub-born-ing her into a marriage against her will, and pur-juring yourself as a Lord. At the same time, the Council of the Church is apparently releasing a Edict of In-tur-dict against the Order of the Red Lions, The Wayward Band, and any and all Allies, forbidding solace of the Church, all rites and sac-re-ments and even ressurrection in the defense of the Realm."
He paused, unlaced his hands and drank deeply from the goblet on the floor.
Tannir, stunned at what he was hearing, handed off a tankard of ale to Arguyle and a cup of C'asa Fel'n, a cheap, strong brew, to Moryan. Jashen dropped the dagger he was toying with and Rasputyn popped into view.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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"Farking WHAT?" were Moryan's first words. "Bloody blasted whore with a tits dragging ta her knees.. what the bleeding hell is that strumpet o' a noble woman doing!?"
She continued her rant, and paced the room a few times, then downed her drink. She gazed at the faces around her, wishing Glenin were here to support her. Hell, she'd take Carramon in a pinch.
And where the farking hell was Carrington anyways.
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Arguyle drank deeply from the tankard and pondered what he had just heard.
"Is that a fact? And where are these letters being stored?" asked the Highlander.
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington poked his head in slowly. He had deftly avoided Albricht and Benowyc, who had been standing outside his former estate, and happened to catch a glimpse of Arguyle and his love heading inside this place. He beamed a smile at Mory and gave her a soft kiss, saluted Arguyle then nodded to Crispain.
"Crispain, what's wrong eh? Ye' looked as those ye' just farked your mother..."
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Mali principii malus finus.
Don't open it.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Crispian blushed clear the roots of his fine blond hair. "Uh, in Lady D'Vena's study chamber. There are also two other letters: One from Carrington, confessing his knowledge of his bastardy and an attempt to deceive the King, his Order and his, um, par-ra-more I think. He also confess in it to, uh," his blush deepened, "unnatural acts and rites, hinting that the Order of the Red Lions supports it and that Arguyle has im-pune-ed his Paladin's vows and partaken in these acts." He looked nervously at the floor. "There's one from you too, Moryan."
His voice dropped to a near whisper. "It's supposedly to some Hibernian Lord, promising to deliver the Snowdonia Fortress through treachory. Someone named Jander."
He started at Carrington's words. "Carrington! You pokey arse'd horse rider!" He sprang from the cot and pulled the blond cleric into the room, closing the door quickly. "How in the name of Morgana's privates did you get here?"
He bit his lip and paused, barely noticing Jashen sitting beside him.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Drannog
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"HOI!"
A hundred mice released their chi together in the practice yard of a new dojo, built recently by their master. The practice was intense, and the mental training even more so, but they were willing to serve their new master, and help where they could; humans were in trouble, and they were charged to do what they could to help.
"HOI!"
The varmits worked through their kata, as their master entered the court yard. With a few gestures of a peaceful tail they stopped their exercise and came to focus on him.
Moving through them, he chittered in mouse, gesturing with a muscular paw. Coming to stand in front of them, he lectured, frequently leaning on his short staff. Many nodded, and at the conclusion of what must have been a rousing speech, the congregation cheered heartily and returned to their martial arts.
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Drannog
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ooc: I hope my comic relief isn't getting on anyone's nerves.... I'm just enjoying a bit of silly rp these days 
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/ooc - thinking "Mice Rescue Carrington, et al - News at Eleven!"
Sort of making up for Ben and Willard and all those mice/rat horror movies...or "Questor and the Brain"
"Lo' Der Brain!" the rat clomped in.
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CarringtonSony
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Albricht Whitethorne finally arrived at his new estate in Camelot....now vacated by his half-brother Carrington. He bowed to Benowyc deeply, and nodded to his attendants.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Lord." he said with a nod.
From the shadows, a pair of yellow, glowing eyes watched. They belonged to Basaia's, and after the property had been given to Albricht, as soon as he signed the parchment Benowyc was holding, they would have a center in Camelot to spread the word, and work their plans. He pulled the black cloak over his head, and watched.
"Albricht Whitethorne," Benowyc nodded and began, holding a parchment in his hand, "This parchment, after signed, will give you full rights to the Whtethorne estate, and it's land around Albion..."
Basaia grinned and watched the sneer fall over Albricht's face. Little did they know, two-hundred little eyes were watching the scene unfold.
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Drannog
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Behind Lord Benowyc, one of the Knight Commanders chortled, but stifled it. With some satisfaction, the group of them watched the Whitethorne greedily sign the document and then tossed the emaciated fellow a platinum coin.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Whitethorne. But answer me this... How is it that your father wrote me but you are the one to arrive and bear witness? I thought your father had passed away, although I have recently received this invitation marked with this signet."
It was time; the training had paid off. Although the arranged meeting had been delayed, it was only for the better. Now the mouse had his students with him, and if something went wrong they had it covered. At last, he could make his move.
Having crept unnoticed up Albricht's backside, the varmit dropped the father's signet ring to the floor as if it had rolled out of a pocket. Instantly, the mouse leapt free, back into the shadows.
"What's this?" Inquired the keep lord as he bent to retrieve the fallen ring. "The signet ring of your father, I see!. A very interesting find, Mr. Whitethorne."
Gesturing to his contigent of Knight Commanders, they drew blades and began to encircle Albricht.
"Impersonation of a landholder is a very serious offense, Mr. Whitethorne. I'm sorry to hear it, too, because I had just made a very profitable deal -- purchase of the Whitethorne estate for a mere 800 gold. Unfortunately, the courts will probably rule the puchase void, but we shall see. Perhaps I will be able to keep the land and see you in chains. Come with me now, or my men will have to get rough."
Without further word, the contigent took Albricht at sword point to the dungeons of Camelot.
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{old}LadyWinterborne
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The old man, with an air of dignity, walked from the shadows. He began to slouch over, showing his age quickly as he began to murmur a few obscure thoughts that none could understand. Giving Lord Benowyc a toothless smile, he patted the honourable general upon his shoulder with his old and weathered hand. The white-haried spectre's strong and youthful visage had returned to his previous form, the face and age of the eighty-two year old Avalonian. He reached for Albricht's arm for support, and began to speak.
"Ma'lard Bennie, s'abeen quite a time since wa' spo'kan, nary not?"
Basaia's age began to show, as his words made little if no sense. Lord Jeust Benowyc gave a polite smile and shook the old man's hand with care, knowing that his father's teacher, and his as well, was many years past his limits. He knew by the old man's composure that he more than likely would not live past this winter.
"Albie'sa good boy na', he much'a remind'd ma' of you wh'an yer juss a wee sproutlin'. Wa', I seem'ta rememb'ar a time wh'an yer whar spinnin' yer first live blade an ma' boy Ulfwych knocked ye flat 'an yer arse. Bah, tha were tha days when ye us'd ta'..."
Jeuste gave a slight chuckle, seeing that the old man was trying to reminece of old time. He had grown used to that, as did many of "old man Bas" students, as they liked to call him. Indeed, Basaia was still as Benowyc remembered him, a sweet old man, a man that would easily be mistaken for anyone's grandfather.
The conversation continued...
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Drannog
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Benowyc nods politely at Basaia before leaving.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/ooc It's really not my turn yet! Help! I've already muddied the storyline, deflied my character and ALMOST got slapped by Moryan! (grin)
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{old}Alyzabeth
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"A letter from me.. promising ta do WHAT? Ta that farking elf named Jander? I dinna bleeding think so."
She turned to the men in the room, and boldly stated, "Whats stopping us from ransacking the wench's home and finding those letters afore they get out? Better yet.. we should send someone in ta just bloody burn the place down ta the bleeding ground."
"Those letters get out, ye know twill be hard ta refute them, cold hard e'idence in someone's hands is all the proof some need. And Hurbury has it out fer us already."
She growled, "I'm nae inta this politicin shyte folks, either we get those letters tanight, or we can watch the ground swinging aneath our toes in a few weeks time."
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington just grinned at his lover.
"I know a man." he said with a smirk, and kissed Mory softly, "He's the best."
And he went off to wake Drayton.
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington gently rapped at the door of Drayton and Ravyin' Argente's estate. After a long while, Carrington finally saw a lit candle through the window, and the door creeked open. The shadowy figured squinted at the blonde cleric, then stepped outside.
Drayton, dressed in undergarmets and clutching a sword stood there, holding a candle in his other hands.
"What the fargin' hell do you want Whitethorne?" he asked, grinning at his old friend, who had recently risked everything he had to support his marriage with Ravyin, a noble lass, and Arguyle's niece.
Carrington smirked at him and lightly clapped him on the shoulder.
"A job." he said quietly, "You still do jobs don't you?"
And Drayton smirked at him.
"Right this way." he said, stepping out of the doorway to let the cleric through.
After he stepped inside, he shut the door quietly behidn him, and Carrington casually took a seat on a sofa, and began munching on an apple. Drayton layed the sword down on the dining table, as well as the candle. He folded his arms and peered at his old friend.
"Carrington," he said seriously, oddly using his first name, which he hardly ever did, "I never did thank ye'."
Carrington smiled at him slightly, "Well, this can be your thanks." he continued with a smirk.
"It must be pretty important, ye' bloody wakin' me in the middle of the night, pas' midnight eh?" Drayton asked, "What's tha' job?"
And Carrington's smirk faded, and he nodded seriously, and told him of the plan.
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CarringtonSony
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Drayton just started at the cleric after he had told him the plan. Then he smirked.
"Let m'get this straight..." Drayton began, a smug tone in his voice, "Ye' want me to penetrate the D'vena estate, one of the most highly-guarded fortresses in farkin' Albion, get through the courtyard full'o bloodhounds, passed the dining hall where servants constantly roam, and through the mindless labryinth of hallways of the bleedin' castle, which is constantly patrolled by farkin' guards?!"
Carrington smirked, "That's it."
"Oh," Carrington began again, "I forgot to mention you'll be needing to penetrate Lady D'Vena's private chamers, which are through her bedroom and behind a secret panel to obtain two forged documents which could mean the end of Moryan, myself, and Arguyle's lives....then get yourself out without being noticed." Carrington cleared his throat slightly.
An akward silence overtook the room.
"...When d'I start?" Drayton grinned, and went to fetch his armor.
Carrington smirked, "Now."
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Ravyin woke to the voices downstairs, slipped on her robe, and silently padded down the stairs. At the bottom, she overheard her husband speaking to someone, then finally recognized Carrington's voice. As she listened to what they had plotted, the blood drained from her face.
It was surely madness! How could he even think of doing such a thing! and without her!
The young noble lass rounded the corner just as Drayton was heading back up to gather his armor and stated, "Thee shant do this without me. I refuse to let thee commit suicide like this. Thee shall never be able to get through that house alive. On the other hand, I grew up there, and can easily lead thee around as required. And mine blessings will aid thee. Shall we go mine husband?"
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Crispian watched Arguyle and Moryan both after Carrington left. He began to pace nervously, finally digging into a saddle bag, extracting a broadleaf bundle. Rolling one deftly, he held it to a candle and lit it. "Do you think Carrington's friend can get all five letters? D'Vena's plenty drunk, I can tell you, but still..."
He paused, considering his goblet before draining it and filling it anew. "She's vile and evil."
Moryan snorted, her leg cocked against a rung of the high-back stool. "Ye dinna know the half her farkin' vile, base-born, twisted Lurikeen-lovin' ways!" She paused, raising an eyebrow at Crispian. "But there be some 'o her ways ye be knowin' better tha' most." She chuckled wickedly as Crispian turned red.
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Drayton fastened climbing spikes to his boots, and bracers. Of all the bloody jobs he'd done, this would prove the most difficult. He pulled the hood of his black cloak and slipped into the shadows, away from sight as he approached the gates to the manor. There was a lone guard patrolling it.
"Perfect." Drayton thought and tossed a small stone across the way, which landed in a large crackle and snap of a dead bush.
The guard immediately froze, then spun around to investigate the bush. Seeing his opportunity, Drayton lept from the shadows with cat-like agility and landed silently no the ground behind the armored guard. He whipped a club from his cloak and quickly pulled the loose helmet from the gaurd's head, and with a massive swing, took him out with one blow. The man collapsed to the ground with a clank, and Drayton pulled him into some thick underbrush.
He pulled the man's armor from his body and slipped into it himself. It was rather large, but not too bad...and better yet, not noticable. He quickly produced some rope and a sock from his cloak, and proceeded to hogtie the man, but not before stuffing the sock in his mouth as a gag, and tightly tying it.
Drayton brushed himself off, and quietly took the place of the guard, patrolling as he did.
He then turned to the shadows and smiled into them, then beckoned his wife to come out.
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CarringtonSony
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Drayton kissed Ravyin softly, then nodded grimly.
"This is what were going to do...when the gaurd comes to take my shift, you will approach. Tell me that you're here to see your Lady D'Vena, an' I will offer to take you inside, and the guard will take my place. This is when it gets tricky. I need for ye' to be in a fit of tears...once ye' get into the dining room. Demand to see her at once...so that they will have to wake her from he slumber. Keep her occupied while I sneak through the castle, an' get the documents." He smiled at her again...
"Can' ye do this love?"
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As Carrington finished his order to begin the door swung open and Arguyle, Moryan and Crispian entered.
"Don't just take the forged documents lad. Replace them with these." said Arguyle.
He handed the man some new documents.
"One of the is from me. It is a letter naming D'Vena as the mastermind behind the King's assassination plot. One is from Moryan stating that she had found information linking D'Vena to the Hibernian named Jander. The other is a letter from D'Vena herself. It is written to Jander and gives him the place and time to conduct the assassination. In it she goes on to mention that she has intercepted some letters from those true to the King and that their time is coming to an end. Also something to the effect that she is looking forward to Hibernian rule in Albion." said the Highlander with a slight grin.
"Don't look at me like that Carrington. I wasn't always a Paladin you know. Let's just say that I have a few skills that I didn't learn in the Church." said Arguyle chuckling.
"Now have any of you ever met the King? Other than Moryan of course. HAR HAR! Well, don't just stand there. Drayton you have some work to do and the rest of you...well...you have a King to meet."
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Ravyin nods to her husband, and watches him patrol. Not so bad in some real armor, and she blushed at her thoughts. Hardly the time for that sort of thinking.
Finally the guard arrived, and approached Drayton. It was then that she rushed forward tears flying from her cheeks as she clung to the guard. "Ooh.. Herrick.. tis that thee? Please.. I must speak with mine auntie.. please.. tis .. oooh.. what he did to me! Please.. take me to see mine Auntie?"
The guard looked hopelessly around, knowing his shift had just begun and he was not in the mood to take control of the sobbing girl. He saw spied the guard he was to relieve, and motioned him over. "You there, take this child in to see Lady D'vena. Tis alright, I know her myself. Make sure she gets straight inside, the Lady has been fit to be tied looking for her where-abouts." The guard unsuspectingly placed Ravyin into the custody of her very husband, and the sobbing girl leaned against him heavily.
They slowly walked into the great house.
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Crispian blanched white. "The k-k-king? Uh, not me, um no way. I'm really just a farm-boy with a sword, General."
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Hearing noises in the outer rooms, the steward roused himself and pulled a robe hastily on. Abandoning thoughts of blond Briton lads, he scurried to the outer chambers, gathering a guard with him. He stood in the middle of the approach to D'Vena's Quarters.
"Now, what's all this then?" he chirped.
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CarringtonSony
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Drayton led his wife to the front doors of the estate, where she clutched his arms and let the tears fly. The guards looked at them with a shocked glance, but then nodded, and opened the doors. They had easily gotten passed the courtyard, but now this would be the tricky part.
The two entered the bustling dining hall which was still alive with action, even in these wee hours of the morning. Drayton nodded at his wife behind the masked helm, and grabbed her by the arm.
"Lady Ravyin wishes to speak with the Lady D'Vena." he said to one of the head servants...
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The mercenary wench glared at Arguyle.
"There is nae any farking way yer taking me back ta see the bloody king AGAIN.. people are going ta get the wrong damn idea about me. Ye can go visit the bleeding king, I'm nae going anywhere near him."
She folded her arms across her chest and continued her cold glare at Arguyle, the sort that would make a man's testicles shrivel like a cold midgard day in plate mail!
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"Yes Crispian. The King. And as for you Moryan, you can walk on your own two feet or I can put you over my shoulder and carry you. Now come along everyone and don't argue for just this once. We must get to the Palace quickly." said Arguyle.
With that he led the group of men and women faithful to Albion to the Palace. When they arrived at the gates he spoke to the guard in the guardhouse and after a few minutes the gates opened and the Captain General Windsor was there with an armed escort.
The Captain General looked at Arguyle and smiled. He extended his hand and shook Arguyle's warmly. "It has been too long Arguyle. Come I'm sure this must be important and he won't be happy with me if I detain you long here."
Then looking at the rag tag band of adventurers he smiled and nodded at Moryan. "Quite an interesting group of people you travel with in the dark Arguyle. And what in the name of Christ is that smell?"
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Crispian tagged at the end of the line, pulling on soft boots over his bare feet as they moved to the Palace. He was shivering in dread as they arrived at the Gate House and he was amazed at how easily Arguyle was admitted, and a new sense of awe crept into his estimation of Arguyle.
He tagged along as they went deeper into the compound, very aware of the simple tunic and breeches he wore, thinking he should have put on his armor at least after all the cost of having it acid cleaned. Damn, if only Auntie Mirashta were here instead of down in Cornwall!
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As he strolled through the Palace alongside the Captain General, Arguyle marvelled at the tapestries. It didn't seem to matter how many times he saw them, they always captured his imagination and reminded him of what it meant to be an Albioner.
Then abruptly they stopped in front of a large oaken door. Outside were four guards all of them wearing the colors and cloaks of the King's personal guard. The Captain General walked to the door and knocked three distinct knocks.
"Who comes here?" came the call from inside.
"Lord Arguyle MacFadden, who has long been faithful to the King and now wishes to be bathed in the light of his grace." said the Captain General.
"By what further right or benefit does he expect to gain admission?" said the man inside.
"By the benefit of the pass." said the Captain General.
"Has he the pass?" came the voice from the door.
"He has not the pass. But I have it for him." said the Captain General.
There small wooden window in the door slid open and from inside came, "Give me the pass."
The Captain General leaned forward and whispered something to the man.
The band of adventurers could here the locks being opened and then the door swung inward.
"Enter all those faithful to the King and to Albion." said the guardsman.
As the adventurers were led through the door they found themselves on a winding stairwell just wide enough for two men to walk side by side. There were guards at what seemed to be 20 foot intervals. Soon they came to an open room filled with guards and another door.
The Captain General knocked and the same series of questions and answers followed. The door opened and the band entered. They found themselves in front of a man with long, curly black hair. He was wearing silk night clothes and appeared to have just awakened from his slumber.
Abruptly Arguyle and the Captain General dropped to one knee and bowed.
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Crispian gawked at all the splendor, missing the questions, the answers, everything except the sheer overwhelming sites of the Palace.
Although he had labored at the forge nearby, this was the first time he had entered the grounds. His eyes drank in all the grandeur as they moved, apprehension not rising until they entered the stairwell, and then mounting with each step upward.
As they entered the chamber, and Arguyle and the Captain-General knelt, he sank to both knees behind them, golden head bowed in awe and dread.
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Moryan bowed gracefully to the King, and took her place beside her cleric, and waited for Arguyle to speak, muttering under her breath.
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The King looked at the men kneeling before him and shook his head. He then looked at Moryan. He sensed that the bow that she gave him was more than most men would get and he was touched that she would think highly enough of him to do so.
"Get off the damn floor you fools. Now just what is so important that you have to wake me at this hour? There is still nearly 3 hours before the rooster crows." said the King.
"M'Lord said Arguyle. We have found much information linking Lady D'Vena to the plot to assassinate you and also linking her to Hibernia. She had letters forged with my name, the names of Moryan, Carrington and Church officials implicating myself, my Order the Wayward Band and House Whitethorne in her treachery and this plot against you. You know that I think of you as a brother and I would never do anything to harm you. I would give my own life to protect yours. We have an infiltrator as we speak retrieving the scrolls and replacing them with some of our own. It is of the utmost importance that your guards are outside of D'Vena's home at first light to apprehend the messenger. The proof you need to end this plot will be there." said the Highlander.
"D'Vena? Well, Captain General, wake the troops and make sure these letters do not leave Camelot." said the King.
"As you command Your Majesty." said the Captain. He bowed and turned to leave the room. Before he left he turned and said, "Arguyle, it is good to see you again friend."
"Aye Nigel. It is good. Strength and Honor my old friend." said the Paladin.
The King then spoke up after the Captain General left.
"Friends, you have done a great service for Albion. I shall repay all of you. I promise. But for now, I pray that you will rally your troops." He paused and went to his writing table. He wrote something upon a parchment and sealed it with the Royal Seal. Then handing it to Arguyle he continued, "I want you to all be there in the morning. After Captain General Windsor has obtained the letters and the courier I want you to be the ones to arrest D'Vena and her House. Let's see how she likes being hunted by her prey." the King laughed jovially. You would never suspect that he was a man that was to be assassinated.
"Come friends. Sit! Sit and drink for a while before you go." said the King.
And the band of adventurers, all of them commoners at some stage in their lives, sat and drank with the King.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Crispian sat nervously, watching it all happen. Then the words registered: ALL there in the morning. His throat dried, and he had trouble swallowing.
"Arguyle!" he hissed soto voce to the highlander Lord. "I can't be there! I, uh, am sort of known for a different reason there!" Moryan's open smirk made him quail even more. He was not by nature promiscuous and certainly did not feel proud of what he had done, twice, in the name of this cause. And it certainly would not help his stock with the women folk in general. “You’ve got to get me out of that part of it.â€
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan tossed back a few ales, and even grew so bold as to kick her boots up on her cleric's knees. If the King ordered her to drink with him, who was she to be complaining about it?
Crispian was looking a bit pale at the thought of meeting D'vena in the light. Maybe he was worried about seeing all those wrinkles she must have, and knowing what he'd done with them. She snickered to herself and raised a toast to him. Maybe he would garner a clue of what most mercenary and infiltrator sorts did for a living. If the pay or the cause was good, it was done. Pure and simple.
She gazed over at Carrington, and sighed softly. She wore his ring on her finger now, but... So many things crossed her mind. She was not comfortable making any more plans for the future. With all this political madness, how could she? It seemed they would not be excuted at least, and the assassination was to be foiled, but still.
Finally she looked at Arguyle, knowing what a true friend and a 'noble' soul in the truest sense of the word he was. She was proud to know the man, and wasn't afraid to let anyone else know it.
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Arguyle leaned close to Crispian and whispered, "Worry not lad. Come tomorrow morning you will be a hero to the realm and all of the lasses will want you. har har...unless of course it was that old banty rooster of a Steward you were kissing. HAR HAR That old codger is just a tad light in the loafers if you catch my meaning."
Arguyle watched Crispian's face go stark white at this comment and he almost fell over in his chair.
"Lad? You didn't do that did you?" asked the Paladin.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Throwing back the rest of his ale and signalling a page for a refill, he dropped his voice even lower. "*I* did not kiss him! And I don't think I'm much of a hero. I well I just it's that well I just acted to protect some good people." He stammered to an end, starting to feel flustered and way over his head. "I'm really just a farm-boy with a sword and a few friends." His ears were enflamed nad frustatration rose higher with each moment.
"And what sort of reward is his Majesty talking about?" he continued low-voiced, hoping the jocular, black clad king was out of hearing range. "I don't want a title or anything."
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan's ears perked up at the mention of reward, and she leaned over.
"Title.. oh m'farking lord.. iffen he e'en tries it.. king or nae.. he'll get the raw side o' m'damn tongue he will!"
She slipped her fingers through Carrington's and resumed drinking her ale.
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Drannog
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And as the king held court, Lord Benowyc escorted Albricht into the very depths of Castle Camelot. Once stripped of his equipment, he was tossed in a dank, dark cell (filled with rats) and left.
There was a moment as the rats considered their new visitor before closing omniously on their prey, a terrible intelligence burning in their eyes...
------------(fade to black with screams echoing) -------------------
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Channon_Katt
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/Bump...cause they always bump mine
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CarringtonSony
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Albricht Whitethorne nodded as he heard the news of the haven being made in the Black Mountains. His eyes flashed, and he sneered. He turned his eyes to a subordinate of his and glared.
"Burn it."
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Drayton released his wifes arm a she was greeted by many, many servants who were bustling around. He quickly stepped across the room and into the far hallway, away from it. He quickly passed his was through the ze of hallways, nodding to passing patrolling guards as he went. He climbed a narrow spiral staircase and stopped at two large, oaken doors....marking the entrance to D'Vena's room.
He quickly stepped behind a large curtain and pulled the guard's armor from his body, and deposited it into a chest of drawers near by. He then slipped into the shadows behind the curtain and waited...there he would wait. It was Ravyin's turn...and he knew she would do well.
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CarringtonSony
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Albricht Whitethorne squinted in the darkness of the dungeon. What a waste of time this was. He knew Basaia would soon get him out, and he was not worried. he would just wait it out until he arrived. Then....he would go through with his plans to burn the haven. As far as he was concerned, Carrington could die, and so could his wench woman. More and more Albricht become obsessed with their deaths...as if he was beginning to lose focus on what his true goal was. And there, in the darkness, he plotted murder.
However, he had no idea hundreds of tiny eyes were watching him...
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington seemed lost in thought. He seemed to be ignoring both Crispain and Arguyle's connversations...just pondering. He blinked as Mory threaded her fingers through his, and he felt a deep pang of love for her. She was beautiful.
It was at that moment he realzied just how much he loved her. He thought he had known, but now, it was really sinking in. It almost frightened him. Not the feelings, but of the thought of losing her. He thought of all the plots circling them, the talk of betrayal, murder, and conspiracy.
And he decided that it needed to be ended, and ended soon. he didn't care if his reasons were selfish, because at that moment, he decided that no one, and he meant no one, would take his Love from him.
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Crispian drank more wine, very good wine, and tried to blend in with the pages and servants, but his homespun was far more plain than there splendid clothing.
He sighed, drank a bit more wine and waited.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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She waited for her mother to appear, her throat dry and aching from the fake tears she was streaming forth with. She servants didn't know any better, but her mother would. She slowly allowed them to dry, and she waited with occasionaly heavy sniffling sigh.
She tried to keep herself looking unobtrusive, but she felt the servants eyes upon her back and could almost feel their whispers as they wondered what she was doing here. Most probably had no clue she'd wed, thinking her just run away or some such rot concocted by her mother to keep the family name unblemished. She found herself standing in front of the family portraits, gazing at the pictures of her aunts. Both of them were wed to noble houses as well, but further thoughts were gone in the sharp intake of breath from Lady D'vena herself.
Ravyin turned, and saw the figure of her mother, wrapped in her silken night dress, hair slightly out of place. Even at this late hour, she found a way to look beautiful, alluring like only an Avalonian woman could. Ravyin once again felt out of place, her highlander looks making her feel big, ungainly.
Jaelyan D'vena looked at her only daughter, and said bluntly, "Thee are dead to mine eyes and mine heart child. Find thine Uncle Arguyle, thee are in his keeping now."
The young cleric had been prepared for it, but it still sliced through her heart like a knife. "Mother..mother please.. I beg thee. hear me out..I... was wrong.." and she bowed her head humbly before her, letting the tears flow yet again.
D'vena watched her daughter, and the wine and earlier frolic with young Crispian still clouded her mind a bit. She pondered, wondering if it was too late for Lord Hurbury's son to wed the girl. The letter of annulment was written, her 'virginity' could be solved with a bit of pig's bladder, not like that had never been done before.
Ravyin sensed the timing was nearly correct, and suddenly she let out the fiercest screech she could muster. Servants everywhere stopped dead and stared at the lass, and her mother's hands flew to her ears to escape the sound.
"RAVYIN! Cease that at once!" she barked out.
She only continued, dropping to the floor, making as be a spectacle of herself as she possibly could. Servants flocked from everywhere to see what in nine hells had possessed the child.
In her heart, Ravyin whispered, "Go mine love.. go swiftly."
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((er.. somewhere back along the way I referred to D'vena as her aunt. No idea why. She's Ravyin's mother, not aunt. I think I got a little confused. So please. Excuse any reference to D'vena as her aunt as I can't go back and change it. She is her mother.))
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Moryan's mind turned to other thoughts as the night trudged on wearily and she drew closer and closer to Caer, finally resting her head upon his shoulder. She'd been up for nearly two days straight, dealing with more issues and matters than a mercenary ought to. The voices of Arguyle and the King droned on, reminiscing about childhood antics. She could feel Carrington's arm slip around her, and the soothing warmth of his touch along the back of her neck.
Her eyes drifted closed, and she dozed lightly, blessed by the tenderness of the man next to her as he lovingly stroked the back of her neck, just under her hair. She woke to his lips upon her forehead, and the whisper of, "Its nearly dawn m'love."
She tugged her fingers through her hair and gazed around the room. Crispian still clutched a half empty wine glass in his hands, and she wondered how many he'd gone through. Arguyle and the King were gone, something about making themselves look presentable.
She glanced at her rumpled cloak and battered armor and grinned crookedly at Carrington. "Well, I'm ready fer a farking war, eh lo'e? What about ye?" She glanced at him, noting the tiredness in his features, but the strength behind them as well. For he was growing in strength and certainty almost daily. Soon he would even realize that himself.
She stood and stretched lazily, then playfully kicked Crispian in the shin. "So ye bloody kissed that fairy o' a steward? I think ye took the job a bit too fer there Crisp.. can I call ye that? I heard someone else use it earlier I think."
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Crispain flushed, then turned a bit redder. "I most certainly dinna kiss 'im!" he quipped, the wine mellowing him a bit. "He sort of caught me readin' the letters the old wench had stored, or close enough. I had to come up with some excuse and he is a bit obvious, ya' know." He found himself much more relaxed now that the king was gone, and topped up his goblet again.
"S'Blood," he said, slouching down in his chair a bit, "it's been a long couple of days." He looked at the brash, bawdy mercenary woman, leaning into the quiet, resevered cleric. A small smile creeped over his face. Aye, Moryan was tough, but she was human after all, he thought as he drained off the glass of wine.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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CarringtonSony
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Drayton watched with ghostly green eyes as D'Vena quickly stormed out of the double doors, and muttering curses as she decended the spiral staircase. He then , silently moved to the door and creaked it open, peeringing inside through the darkness.
Only a single candle flooded light into the large bedroom. The room was lavish, with a four-post cherry-wwod bed with curtains, an amazing cradenza, intricate artworks, and beautiful furnishings. He shook hs head at the lavishness of the room, then slipped inside. He quickly made his way over to D'Vena's bed and began to knock lightly on the walls, searching for a hallow sound. He moved all around the area of the room, doing the same, lightly rapping against the wooded walls, his heat beating out of his chest.
At least, he heard the sound of a hollow knock, and ran his fingers along the edge of the panelling. He popped off the board and set it lightly against the bed, then ducked inside.
The room was lit by a single lantern, whish etched gleams of light across the small office with a ghost-like appeal. He made his was over to the addressed scrolls upon the desk, and switched them with Arguyle's. He tucked D'Vena's letters into his leather chestpiece, but not before swiping one of D'Vena's seats as well...it could be of great importance later. He swiftly left the small nook, and replaced the panel.
As he started to the door, he could hear the sound of crying, and the shouts of Lady D'Vena coming back up the stairs. He was out of time...Ravyin was trying to stall her, but here she came. There was nothing he could do. His eyes darted around the room, looking for a way out, when he spied a narrow door to a balcony. He took off in a dead sprint with silent feet; he could hear here approaching the doors. The sounds of Ravyin's crying were becoming louder and louder as he approached the balcony. At last, he met the stone edge, and pulled a rope from his cloak. He quickly tied it around his feet and prayed to God the rope was short enough to keep him from crashing into the groud. He tied one end around one of the small stone pillars which formed a ledge, and said a silent prayer. And he lept into the darkness.
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington smiled a weary smile at Mory. He stood and wraps his arms around her lovingly from behind, then pressed his nose lightly into her hair, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils.
"Shall we call it a night for awhile love?" he said, giving her a knowing glance.
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A grim man with a wrinkled face and a hooded black cloak entered a small room with a single chair in the middle. A flash of grey hair could be seen underneath, but moved away as though the shadows were following him. His face was not visible. It was impossible to make out any other features, but his eyes. His eyes burned through the darkness as if balls of glowing ivory, hot from sitting in the sweltering sun. He sat in the single oak chair in the center of the small room, which was lit only by one, small, inadqueate candle.
"What can you give us?" a booming voice asked the man, muffled, as if it was being disguised.
The white haired man grinned beneath the shadows and looked to the four men standing across the room from him, all wrapped in dark shrouds.
"Everything."
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Jaelyan was not buying into her antics, and she ordered her up to her private suite, no need to do this in front of gossiping servants. Ravying continued her shrieking and wailing, what had gotten INTO that child. Gods forbid, was she pregnant? Lady D'vena pushed that thought away, and grabbed the girl by the arm, and started leading her upstairs to her suite. Some heavy wine should knock the screeching from her, and then she could deal with this more rationally.
Up the stairs, the girl fighting her the entire way they went. At the doors to her suite, Ravyin collapsed in a heap in front of the door, rocking back and forth in gushing sobs.
"Get that girl up and put her on mine bed," she told her steward as she stepped past and opened the door.
The suite was empty, a single candle left burning as she had. But a breath of air blew past her cheek from the finger sized gap in the doors to the balcony. Odd, she didn't recall leaving those open. She strode across the room, ignoring the wailing girl behind her, and pushed closed the elegant doors, and flipped the latch. Some lazy servant, she surmised, and turned her attention back to her daughter.
Ravyin managed to look around the room and saw no sign of her husband, to her relief. She hoped he'd gone out the doors. She also began to pray fervantly that Uncle Arguyle and the rest would be there in the morning to rescue her from her mother's clutches.
"Lord keep mine husband safe," she prayed to herself, and made ready for the tirade of Lady Jaelyn D'vena against her only child.
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Drayton winced as the roep suddenly became tight, and choking his legs. He let out a soft growl of pain...he would be bruised, but it was better than being caught by that damned psychopath of a woman. He looked toward the ground and saw that he was only inches from crashing to his death. He took a deep breath and reached down for the dagger which had fallen from his cloak and nabbed it, cutting the rope from his ankles. He let balanced himself on one hand, his muscles tightening and rippling from the weight, and silently lowered himself to the ground.
He took off in a dead sprint away from the manor, and slipped into the shadows, diving behind some bushes. He peered around, in sight of the main doors. There he would wait for his wife, and pray she was allright.
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"Sedate that child," D'vena growled. "I dun care how thee do it, as long as she is nae bruised."
The woman paced, searching her mind for a plan. She had her daughter back in her grasp, that was one thing in her favor. But what to do with her. The annulment was safely tucked away in the church's keeping, Ravyin didn't even realize she was already divorced from her husband. "Hmmm.. thats it.. Hurbury would be pleased."
"Steward! Thine fastest most trusted courier. Quickly, to Lord Hurbury. Tell him to bring forth his son, there will be a wedding before morning!"
Ravyin blinked and groaned, but was held tight by two rather burly servants as they forced some heavy wine between her lips, laced with herbs to induce calmness. She tried to spit the wine out, but they pinched her nose and held her lips closed, forcing her to swallow.
Steepling her fingers together, Jaelyan nodded. "Hurbury trusts me, and he'll follow through. He wants this union as much as I do. Girl,"she said to a passing servant in the hall, "make mine daughter presentable, and get the rest of the servants up. The downstairs drawing room is to be spotless, for a wedding will take place at dawn."
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington nodded to Arguyle and Crispain, then kissed Mory softly.
"Drayton and Ravyin should be done by now. Its time for the rest of the plan."
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CarringtonSony
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Drayton quickly lept from the shadows and met a Whitethorne page near the crossroads. He nodded.
"Ta' Constantine." Drayton said, and slapped the D'Vena seal on the envelopes, which he has stolen from her.
The page nodded.
"And tell Carrington to get ready. It's his turn."
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington whispered "I love ye" into MOry's ear, then bowed to Arguyle, Crispain, and the page.
"Come to D'Vena's in an hour. Constantine will pass by...and join him." he said casually, and strolled out.
Tonight would be the end of this.
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Moryan nodded to her cleric. "Aye, Arguyle and the King should return soon, and then we intercept the messanger afore it leaves in the morning." She gazed out the window, the pale light of dawn not even visible yet.
"Theres still plenty of time left."
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington dismounted his horse and walked up to the guarded gate of the D'Vena estate. He pulled the coif from his head and rubs his eyes. This would have to be flawless.
He nodded to himself and said a silent prayer for God to forgive him. Then, he ran out of the shadows straight for the guard, his eyes serious, as if something was very wrong.
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CarringtonSony
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Drayton quickly slipped into a cleared area about a mile from the estate. He grabbed a flint and eyed the four piles of kindling hehad made before the night had started. Each far away from each other...very large, so they could been fron a distance. He lit them with sparks, making a torch, then set the others a flame. The wood craked loudly, and the flames and smoke bellowed into the air. His part was done for now...and he would wait for Ravyin.
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington ran up to the guard and clutched his shoulders.
"Sound the alarm!" he yelled, a band of invaders has penetrated AlbioN! Tehre! You can see hteir bonfires!" Carrington exlaimed, his voice very serious, almost angrily.
The guard stared at him, confuse,d but recognizing the man immediately.
"O..of course!!" the guard yelled, spying the roaring bonfires in the distance.
"Constantine's troops are on the way to defend! But they will engage before they arrive!" Carrington yelled, pulling his coif over his head, his blue eyes intense. "Well, what are you waiting for?! GO!!"
The guard nodded and scrambled away. After awhile, the sounds of shouts and a ring of a bell could be heard loudly around the manor. And Carrington smiled to himself.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Rasputyn rubbed his eyes, relaxing in the dense brush along the road. The front of the estate was quiet, which could either mean Drayton was a quiet prisoner or no prisoner at all. He mentally ticked off the distance to the nearest guard, figured acting time for his poisons and decided the man would die fast enough if need be.
A single courier sped out of the yard on horse back and then a man entered in chain, doffed his coif, and started to yell at a guard.
Rasputyn sat up quickly. He could guess at the second man, but the horse rider...
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Jaelyan heard the clanging of the bell and the shouts of "invasion" down below. "What is this nonsense," she muttered to herself. Commanding the two men to stay with her daughter, she made her way out of her suite and to the staircase. She could hear the sounds of armored feet pounding through her halls as they flooded from her front gates.
She spied one of her captains, and called to him, "THEE! Captain! Hold thineself now and tell me what is transpiring!"
The Captain was panting, "Word of an attack, Albion has been invaded M'lady! Constantine orders the march!" The avalonian scowled, and beckoned him. "Nae, stay thine men now Captain, and recall them. Have thee a seal from the king? Have thee a writ? NAE! Recall thine men NOW!"
Meanwhile, in Hurbury, the Lord and his second son were making their way to Camelot and the estates of D'vena to unite their families in marriage once and for all.
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CarringtonSony
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The chaimberlain read the intercepted scrolls from the D'Vena household outloud of his leige Constantine. The last one, was from Carrington, and it was signed by his own hand.
---------------------------------------------
My liege,
My intelligence has gathered information that D'Vena is planning a strike against you. These letters prove her treachery, and she moved tonight with her allies to overthrow your reign. If you look out your window right now, you can see the bonfires of her troops gathering...I am trying to gether as many warriors as I can, but they will not be enough. I humbly request reinforcements, and your presense. It's time this traitor was removed from our realm.
Sincerely,
Carrington Whitethorne
---------------------------------------------
Constantine looked out his window, and sure enough, there were roaring fires in the horizon. He turned to his Chamberlain, and stood, giving the order to mobilize.
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington hid in the shadows as he saw D'Vena's estate in a mass of chaos. It didn't matter whether she ahd given the order or not, her troops were clambering around, gathering in ranks in front of the manor, preparing for battle. Carrington leapt over the wall and slipped from sight.
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Rasputyn slipped over the compound wall and dropped down by the chapel. All was quiet and secure, he saw. How typical of the Defenders to trust closed gates! He made his way around the yard's edge and ducked into the doorway. The sentinal guard continued to gaze at the top of the wall. "Greetings, Rasputyn. Crispian and crew have you out again?" he said with a chuckle.
Scowling, the little infiltrator bounded up the stairs and pounded on the door to Crispian's chamber, rousing Tannir. The bleary eyed boy looked puzzled. "Crispian, is he here? or Nyet?" the small man barked out, voice rough as always.
Tannir shook his head, "Nay, sir, he is still about the palace I think."
"Saint's Blood!" Rasputyn swore and bolted down the hall, vaulting the end rail and landing at the door, which he went out at a dead run to the palace. Time was not his friend this night...
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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An hour had passed, and finally some semblance of order was once again restored to the D'vena estates. Ravyin was dressed and quite sedated, being watched over in the drawing room. She expected Hurbury and his son at any moment.
The house cleric was prepped, and ready for the ceremony. Some guards were still edgy, watching the fires and fingering their weapons, but her captains were the best money could pay for, and they were quick to restore order.
The chamberlain let himself into the drawing room, and announced, "Lord Hurbury, and Lord Doran, M'lady D'vena, to see ye." He bowed, yet his eyes seemed to linger on the young man's arse as they pushed by and into the room.
"D'vena, ye had best have a good reason for getting us out of bed for this, at this ungodly hour!" Hurbury scowled. Young Doran, barely eighteen, gazed upon the girl he was to wed, and gulped. He had no choice in the matter of course, but at least she was a pretty one.
Ravyin was unable to move her arms and legs, the sedatives were keeping her still, yet inside her mind was screaming for her husband.
"I have plenty of reasons mine lord Hurbury, and I think thee and I will worry about those later. For now, let us see these children wed and be done with it. Cleric, thee may begin."
The cleric nodded and opened his bible. Ravyin was brought over to stand next to Doran. Hurbury's eyes went a bit narrow, but as this was the girl he'd hand picked for his younger son, he cared little how it was done.
"Let us begin the ceremony to unite these two in the bonds of marriage...."
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Crispian hurried down the hallway, buckling the hauberk in place. The troops were assembling en route, the marching column swelling as the King's troops fell out. Tannir hustled behind, tabard of the Order on him, clutching greaves to his chest as he rushed to catch up.
Jashen, polished, buffed and still looking like a mercenary, walked behind. Crispian fastened this cloak to rings on the plate chest piece and took one of the greaves, slamming them into place and slowing so that Tannir could fight the straps into place. He emerged from the Defender's compound made-over from the home-spun clad youth that had rushed in from the palace moments ago.
He was a young warrior, now. Sword hung through the hanger on his left hip, and he hefted a shield emblazoned with the Arms of the League - Or with Ebon Tower chief, Azure chevron fess, and his cloak was the same. The clapped the plate cap he prefered on his head and shifted his shoulders to settle the second scabbard that rode his back.
Gone was the hesitancy of politics, the uncertainty of machinations. THIS arena he knew, had blazed a trail through. Pausing one last time, he bowed his head for the chain Jashen slipped over, heavy golden Cs holding two plaques of wrought steel - The Tower and Chevron of the Guild Emaneled on one and the symbol of his Alliance on the other.
"To the King!" he said and turned, leading the trio up the column.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Rasputyn burst into the courtyard as soon as the soldiers let him past.
"I need to see, uh, Moryan, the wench," he gasped out, "or Crispian, someone..."
The guard looked at him and scowled. "They have left, at the king's order," he sneered at the Infiltrator.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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The cleric continued the words to the ceremony as the first hint of dawn began to creep across the horizon. "Do thee, Doran Hurbury, take Ravyin D'vena..."
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ishish1
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Ishish shifted uncomfortably in the ranks. The defenders had been called to march and she joined the ranks without question. Where they were going and for what reason never crossed her mind. She was just a soldier. A small player in a larger story. She would fight for this king, waiting for the moment when she could obtain her revenge.
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{old}Jannis_Solaran
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/ooc For those of you in hibernia who wonder why you are always the source of conspiracy and intrigue in Albion its because you are well-mannered, smell nice and are reasonably intelligent. No Albion no matter how evil would have the poor taste to conspire with the Norse =P
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CarringtonSony
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Drayton frowned as he ran, torch in hand. Ravyin was taking way too long for his liking, and he had to check on her. He slipped over the wall and climbed the rope hanging from the balcony. He made his way through thr abandoned hall...the sound of soldiers cluttering around outside could still be heard. He stopped short of entering the dining hall. And to his horror, he saw the love of his life being married off to Harbury.
He watched in horror. He could believe it. What could he do? It was almost over....he was about to say I do...and he would then ask her...but Ravyin would never consent...but they would force it anyway. He desperately glanced arond, then blinked.
He snuck behind the mayhem and lit the cutrains on fire with his torch. He then tossed the torch over the head of the cleric and behind him, to the lavish taprestries behind, which almost immediately burst into flames.
Chaos.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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((ooc- shall we put this on hold till monday folks? when we are all back at work and can take the time to finish it?
I would like to add that until its actually DONE (or something concrete has past) that we play it as still not having happened.
Basically, we all know that Carrington was thrown out, and certain parts have transpired, but obviously this last night could not have taken place until we finish it completely. We didn't run away from finishing D'vena off to go hunt in lyonesse for a few hours.
Any thoughts? And shall we finish it on Monday? Its about time to wrap some of it up I think.))
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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OOC: Monday is good. I've got sort of a busy weekend. Golf outing today and Lewis-Tyson tonight.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/ooc- Monday works
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Channon_Katt
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Good for me I have a busy weekend anyway.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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The fire burst forth in the dining room and the enraged matron of the house screamed in seething anger.
"Get that fire out!" she bellowed.
Lord Hurbury took his dazed son by the arm, and grasped young Ravyin with the other, and pulled them from the room before it could catch further on fire. The cleric rushed out, eyes wide followed quickly by Lady D'vena.
As the room burned behind her, she grabbed the cleric's collar with her hand. "This WILL be finished here," she ordered. Lord Hurbury was a bit taken aback by the attitude, but he shrugged. Wasn't his home burning behind him.
Young Doran Hurbury finally squeaked, "I do," and the cleric nodded.
As the tapestries smoldered and caught flame behind young Ravyin, the cleric spoke, "And do thee, Ravyin D'vena, take Lord Doran Hurbury to be thine husband.." The words were drowned out in her mind, as she frantically searched for Drayton. In her mind, she was screaming his name but her lips could barely move.
As the cleric finished and looked to the young girl, Jaelyan leaned over and nodded. "Of course she does, I am her mother, and she chaos is frightening for her. She consents to the marriage. Dost thee consent Ravyin?" Her cold eyes peered into her daughter's.
The cleric nodded and then began the last of the ceremony that would bind the two together.
"With the powers granted me by God, the Church, and the King..."
Time was running out.
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Crispian jogged with the lead troops, the King's personal banner in the center of the group behind. His cloak snapped in the wind as they rushed along, the jingle and clanking of harness and arms accompanying them.
He could make out the dancing bonfires that had been drawing them in. But there was more smoke. From the building! Something was dreadfully wrong! "Move it up people! Let's go! To the Estate! For Albion!" he snapped loudly at the troops with him, nodding to a minstrel to strike up a martial tune. As the first chords drifted on the air, the troop began to pick up the pace, pulling slightly ahead of the royal group.
"All groups, speed it up!" he called out, as a sprinting figure burst into his midst.
"Crispian," Rasputyn gasped, running full out to keep up, "Lady D'Vena, messenger, left, hour ago, been, looking for, you," he continued, sucking in great breathes of air.
"Satan's Arse! Something is very wrong then!" He looked around for Moryan or Arguyle as the troops pressed forward, defensive but at the ready.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Channon_Katt
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/bump This thread just looked WAY wrong sitting on the second page
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CarringtonSony
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Drayton stood over the cleric with a candlestick in hand. The cleric lay motionless, alive, but incapacitated. He had snuck up behind him with the intricate candlestick, and broght it hard upon the cleric's skull.
A tear formed at the corner of his eye. He had no time to be stealthy about it...he had nearly seen his love married forever off to Doran Harbury....and he wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't let her lead the life of chattel. He loved her, and damn it, she was HIS wife, and HE was her husband...not Hurbury.
Drayton just stood there, standing over the fallen cleric, his gaze intense, staring right at D'Vena.
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Arguyle could see the plumes of smoke rising from the D'Vena residence as he and the Red Lions approached. He looked back to his men and women and yelled, "For the Order of the Red Lions! For King Constantine! Ride!!"
With that he spurred his stallion forward and he could here the clomp of hooves as the men and women of the Order of the Red Lions followed after him. He could hear Carrington shouting orders to the troops. Macivor was bellowing a migty battle cry as they drew closer and saw the soldiers of House D'Vena preparing for some sort of battle. As they rounded the last turn to the estate they were joined by Moryan and the Wayward Band and King Constantine's Guard being spurred on by Crispian.
Arguyle smiled as he thought about the moments ahead. Then he pulled his sword and raised it high into the air.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Lady D'vena stared down at the young thief that stood proudly with the candlestick in hand. Ravyin's eyes fluttered and she recognized Drayton and with a cry, began to stumble towards him.
The room behind them was a towering inferno of flames as the two young lovers met. Drayton's arms encircled his wife and he merely glared back at D'vena, daring her to try to stop him. Ravyin was crying soundlessly, holding tight to the man that was her hero, her savior, her husband.
A loud cracking sound was heard, and the ceiling above the three started to collapse! Servants and men at arms ran through the estate, some tried to put out the devouring flames, others merely ran for safety. Outsides the sounds of horses and the approaching guards were drowned by the crackling and hissing of the flames.
"Thee will pay for this young one, thee will surely pay," spat the Avalonian woman. With a lithe grace, she turned and darted back further into her home, leaving Drayton alone with his wife and the unconscious cleric.
***********
Moryan led the Wayward forward, those that had been found in enough time to be of use. Not a military unit by any stretch, but they came for Drayton and Ravyin, two of their own. She looked for Carrington, wondering where in the hell her cleric had gotten himself too.
************
Deep inside the estates, Lady D'vena found her way to the wine cellars, and the long unused passageway. Only she knew of its existance, and she had kept that knowledge since the day she'd become the mistress of the mansion. Today, it would save her life.
She'd travel to meet one of her sisters, knowing they would take her in without question. And then, she would plan her revenge.
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With a cry, Crispian drew his blade and motioned in an arc. The troops at his side surged forward and into the compound.
"Alive! Take them alive if possible!" he called as the core group with him in the first wave spread into the courtyard. Two men, sargents by the decorations, tried to block his progress. Turning the swing of one on his shield, Crispian attacked. His sword arced up, releasing deadly magics as it tore into the man's body, parting armor like cloth. Before his companion could make a strike, Jashen was on him, twin blades flashing in the wan sunlight and smoke. The steel blades came up bloody, and the foe sagged, wounded but alive.
A short, chaotic fight ensued in the courtyard as royal guardsmen, Wayward band members, and Leaguers supressed the errant guard force. Some lay on the gorund, slick blood flowing from them, others were being bound at the wrists as Tannir unfurled the battle standard of the League.
Crispian surveyed the yard, spotting Moryan and crossed to her.
"Your friends know how to host a wedding!" he said, a grin spreading on his soot smeared face. "Remind me come to your next gathering! I'm sure it's not dull!" He nodded to the two strangers, held in each other's embrace then turned to finish securing the courtyard and move the prisoners clear of the fire.
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CarringtonSony
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Drayton cringed as a large beam fell flaming to the ground in front of them. But he didn't falter, he turned to Ravyin, and met his lips with her in a spontaneous moment of passion. He piercing green eyes gazed at her for a moment as he looked her over.
"Can you walk?" he asked her, a concerned look on his face.
She smiled and wiped some tears from his face, then nodded. Drayton nodded and picked up the unconcious cleric.
"I'm sorry Father." he said to the unaware old man.
Ravyin and Drayton ran toward the front hallway door, where they could escape. If everything was well, they would meet Arguyle at the doors. They could only pray something didn't stand in their way.
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington turned, and with one fluid motion incapacitated a D'Vena soldier with one swing of his hammer. He saw flames billowing from the manor, and a look of worry came to his ghostly blue eyes. Smoke was beginning to slowly haze the air.
He adjusts his cloak and took off running for the front gate. He desperately looked around for Mory, to make sure she was allright, and to find Arguyle. He found Arguyle first.
The firey-headed Highlander paladin was shouting orders when Carrington found him.
"Drayton, Ravyin, and D'Vena are still inside!" he screamed, a desperate look on his face.
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Mali principii malus finus.
Don't open it.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan spied the two young ones coming out of the burning mansion. She rushed over to their side, and noticed the cleric draped over Drayton's shoulder. With a grin, she took the cleric from Drayton so he could aid his wife and they managed to get through the courtyard admist all the confusion.
Again, Moryan searched the smoldering air for signs of her cleric, unable to find him anywhere.
"Get her out ta safety Drayton.. shes yer responsibility ye know.." the mercenary nodded to the couple. "Did ye hear me? Get her out o' here already."
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Crispian_Pontiff
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As the stumbling quartet emerged from the enflamed manor, Crispian was hurding men out of the yard, directly into the group under the command of Arguyle MacFadden, reknown general and occasional pompous noble. The many cloaks of Or quartered Sanguine with Lion Rampant was a pleasing sight to Crispian as he turned the charges over and headed back toward the burning building.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Arguyle was slightly surprised by the resistance they had met. D'Vena's men had some fight in them but they were no match for the combined forces of the Order of the Red Lions, the Wayward Band and St. Crispin's League. The Highlander was barking orders at his troops when a large brit wearing the badge of a Captain in D'Vena's army charged him from behind.
Arguyle caught a glimpse of the man in the broken glass of the manor house. He turned and dropped to one knee raising his shield to block the blow at his shoulder. At the same moment he thrust upward with his sword and embedded the point of his blade under the chin of the man. If not for the strap holding his helmet on it would have flown off as the blade burst through the top of his skull. The man collapsed to the ground dead.
Arguyle was pulling his blade from the man's head and giving more orders when Carrington approached him.
"Drayton, Ravyin, and D'Vena are still inside!" he screamed, a desperate look on his face.
Arguyle quickly looked toward the house and saw the two coming out of the door. Moryan was standing with them and pointing. Then the two walked out of the home while Moryan stood looking inside.
"There they are lad! Moryan seems to have something in mind. Go to her. Keep her safe. I'm going after D'Vena." yelled the Paladin.
Then he ran past Moryan and into the burning house.
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{old}LadyWinterborne
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Basaia immediately collapsed before Lord Benowyc, as if striken with an old wound. He grasped his stomach hard, and began to wail incessantly. His face became white as a sheet, his eyes began to water and his speech was uncomprehendable. Above the old Avalonian's slurred words, the local guard as well as a cleric came to his aid. He could only hear a ringing within his ears, as the darkness swallowed the light around him...
He awoke somewhere outside the boundries of Camelot, within a warm and dimly lit infirmary. Judging by the clothes of the attendant surgeons about him, he deduced that this could only be Vetusta Abbey. He thought for a moment to himself, trying to summon the aid of his pupil Albricht but had not the strength nor the will within this hallowed place.
(((ooc I will be away for a week or two while I recover from my apendectomy =( )))
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Crispian_Pontiff
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The highlander bolted through the courtyard and into the manor house. Crispian watched his cloak flap as he ran past.
"He's as crazed as a troll!" he yelled to Jashen as they encountered guards who definately did NOT want to yield to the laws of the king. "Take charge! Someone has to keep that Scot from killing himself!"
He raced to catch the older man as he disappeared into the blazing manor. "May fortune favor the foolish!" he thought as he plunged into the building half a pace off the Lord General. Several choice oaths were flying in the air as well as the flames as they plunged deeper into the raging blaze that had once been a fine manor.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan grinned at Crispian and stood watch over the two young ones. Finally, she saw the shocking red of Arguyle's hair under his helm, and there beside him was Carrington. At least she was able to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Caer! O'er here.. we ha'e ta get these two out o' here afore something else happens ta them!" She called to him, beckoning him over. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the fancy cloak and colors of Lord Hurbury, but it was none of her concern about that man, and she let him go. Going soft ye are merc, she muttered to herself, but stood careful watch over her charges. Her swords were drawn and it seemed many men took a wide berth around the battle ready mercenary wench.
**************
Jaelyan pried open the hidden doorway, and swiftly made her way inside, tugging it closed behind her. Nothing she could do about the footprints in the dust, but she wouldn't make it easy for any that followed. She dropped the heavy wooden crossbeam across the door to bar it shut as well.
"Let them break through that door," she hissed. Her way was lit by a single sputtering candle, and she slowly made her way down the cobweb infested hallway. She clutched her diaphanous robes to her as she walked, watching the darkness ahead of her.
The sound of battle in the courtyard was muted by the thick walls and the dirt, but she could still hear the men dying in her name above her. Fools, she thought to herself. They could have thrown down their weapons and been spared.
Already plotting again in her mind, she was nearing the end of the passage.
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ishish1
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Ishish sat down on a fallen tree. The battle was over. She removed her helmet, wiping the soot from her eyes. She wondered what this had all been about. She had noticed the Kings own personal guard fighting alongside of her. Odd that. The Lord General was sending some detachments to clean up any straglers. A good commander that one was. Arguyle MacFadden was a man you could follow. Maybe she should confide in him. She had only ever told one person her story, and he was dead. She missed the old norseman. Ishish sighed. Another fight that didnt seem her own. She sat and wondered when her time would come. The day she could avenge her family. She stood up, placing her helm back on. "Soon." She said aloud. "Soon."
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Arguyle heard some curses behind him and as he entered the manor house he found that Crispian had followed him. Just as he was going to tell the lad to get out of the house and see to the others he caught a glimpse of D'Vena as she scurried down the hallway ahead and darted around the corner.
Arguyle looked at Crispian and said, "There she is! Come on lad!"
The pair ran down the hallway as fast as they could. The heat so hot from the flames that Arguyle felt as if he might bake inside of his armor. As they turned the corner they saw a doorway, tucked away and hidden inside the wall, close. As Arguyle reached for his he could hear the heavy beam slide into place on the other side.
He pushed on the door to no avail. It was blocked. He looked at Crispian and shouted, "Lad you have to go outside! Find a wizard! We need to destroy this door quickly! Don't argue with me. Just go!"
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Crispian sprinted out of the building, glad to have been blessed by Darnyk against fire earlier. He broke into the courtyard. "I need a wizard and a ram!" He looked about for Kromly, siege master for the League, but did not see him anywhere. "A WIZARD DAMN IT!"
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Arguyle watched Crispian run out of the house and then he turned to the door and drew his sword. The blade glowed red with magic and he swung hard. The blade crashing against the wooden door. Large pieces of wood flying as the blade bit into the door. Ashes fell from the ceiling and Arguyle looked up just as the heavy beam across the door jam fell. He raised his shield to try and deflect the beam but the force of it knocked him to the ground.
Then just as Arguyle was climbing back to his feet another beam came down across his back. The world went black. All that could be seen was the fringes of his Crimson and Gold cloak and the glowing sword still clutched in his gauntleted hand. The flames bouncing off of the shining armor.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Moryan heard the frantic shouts for a wizard, and looked around for the Red Lion known as Earandil, hoping to find him.
((okok.. wanted the 200th post<coughs>))
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Mithiel
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Mithiel came upon the battle hard and fast. It appeared that the majority of the fighting was over but there were still a few skirmishes here and there. The familiar cloaks of the Red Lions were seen across the field. He vaulted from his horse and took off to find Carrington.
Then he saw him. Standing with Moryan. He also saw his the familiar figure of his brother, Arguyle MacFadden, running into the burning building being followed closely by a young man he had not seen before. He did however recognize the emblem the man wore and knew him to be of St. Crispin's League.
Then he saw her. A young lass with flowing hair. A bit disshelved by the whole ordeal but he know her as soon as he laid eyes upon her. He had waited for this day for many, many years. He sprinted to her. Standing with Moryan and Carrington. Holding her was another young man that Mithiel did not recognize but he guessed him to be the young man Arguyle had written him about.
The old highlander came close and said, "Ravyin? Dat ye? Tis I, Mithiel, yer father." A single tear falling down his cheek.
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Neras
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I wish I can meet some of you guys out in emain. Great Roleplaying, guys. I really enjoy reading your posts.
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Mithiel
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As Mithiel was speaking he saw the young man that had followed Arguyle inside burst out shouting for a wizard.
"Lad! What's going on? Where's Arguyle and that wench D'Vena?" asked the Armsman.
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Crispian stared at the older man for a second, mind still racing. "Arguyle's inside, sir, and I need a wizard! D'Vena's barricade a door behind her."
The whole mileu suddenly hit him, the fire, the smoke, the screaming, the fighting; he thought back to Blackheath village, his childhood home. That last day, the last day he was a boy, what, six years ago? The dead, the burning, Ellena lying there...he shook his head.
"Where can I find a blasted Wizard?" he snapped.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Mithiel
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Mithiel thought back to the days of his youth as an armsman. The days he spent in this very house with D'Vena. The he remembered it. There was a passage. One that she did not tell anyone about. One that the two of them would use to meet late at night.
Mithiel grabbed Crispian and turned him to face him, "Get some men. I know where D'Vena is headed!"
Then Mithiel took off at a dead sprint around the back of the house and down through a garden filled with tall plants. He arrived at a small burrough in the ground. Built into the side of the burrough was a wooden door.
Suddenly the door swung open and out stepped Jaelyn D'Vena and for the first time in 17 years he looked into the eyes of the woman that still haunted his dreams.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Ravyin gazed upon the man that was her father, and her eyes blinked in the searing heat and smoke. She was still dazed, still numb from the tumultuous moments in the house, the sermon.. And Drayton was there, holding her close, whispering tenderly in her ear that he would take care of her, forever. She was his angel, his light, his wife.
Then suddenly, Mithiel turned, bolting for the back of the house with guards in tow, screaming something about her mother.
************
Jaelyan opened the hidden passage, stepped into the light and ran straight into the highlander,... Mithiel.
With the fierceness of a cat she lunged at him, fingernails raking down his cheek and drawing blood. Screeching she evaded his grasp and ran towards the back of the estate, seeking escape in the family cemetary.
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Mithiel
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Mithiel reached for his face and felt the sting of open flesh. He could feel the blood on his hands and cursed D'Vena and those long arse fingernails. Then he set off into the cemetary after her.
"Jaelyn! Come back here woman!" called the Armsman as he ran behind tombstones and crypts.
He paused at each crypt checking the doors to see if any were open but all were locked. As he ran he caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of his eye. He ran to the spot and there crouched behind a tree he found Jaeylen. Winded and frantic she looked at him. Terror and fury in her eyes.
"Come on Jaelyn. There be no escape fer ye this time. Listen, the guards be comin' now." said Mithiel. The sounds of soldiers could be heard moving through the cemetary.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Having failed to find a wizard, Crispian ran back into the build, followed by four burly guards carrying part of a fallen column. Dodging through the blazing building, he made his way back to Arguyle.
"At the door, men! It can't be harder than a Midgard gate!"
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Mithiel
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"Jaelyn, it's over. Now come on lass. Don't make it worse on yerself than it already is." said Mithiel.
He reached down and grabbed Jaelyn D'Vena by her wrist and lifted her to her feet. As he turned to walk her out of the cemetary they were met by nearly 30 soldiers. Some wearing the cloak of the Red Lions and some of the King's Guard. He recognized the man wearing the badge of a Lieutenant in the King's Guard and handed his prisoner over to him.
"Jonathan, this is the Lady Jaelyn D'Vena. She is under arrest by the King's order. I now turn her over to your custody." said the Armsman.
Then he took off at a sprint to the front of the house to find his daughter and brother.
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Mithiel
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As Mithiel came barrelling around the front of the house he saw the young man from St. Crispin's League that he had talked to earlier running into the house followed by some men with a fallen column.
Looking frantically about he scanned the area for his daughter. Finally he saw her. Standing against a fence post and holding onto her young husband. He began walking to her, thinking of what he was going to say to the daughter he had never met. Then suddenly a young man wearing the cloak of the Order of the Red Lions ran up and grabbed Mithiel.
"Mithiel...Mithiel...." the man panted from exhaustion.
"Take a breath lad, what you be tryin' to tell me?" asked the Armsman.
"It's Arguyle...we...we....can't find him." said the soldier.
Mithiel's mind was racing. Can't find Arguyle? He had to be around here somewhere.
"Calm down. He's around somewhere. Did you check the King's Guard?" asked Mithiel.
"Aye. We looked there. We've looked everywhere. Everywhere but the house. Surely he wouldn't still be in there. It's an inferno." said the Red Lion.
Before the man had finished his sentence Mithiel was sprinting for the front door of the manor house. The flames were shooting from the windows and the entire roof was consumed now. The heat was as intense as any he had ever felt and he could feel his skin blistering under his armor. Then he burst into the house and began searching the rooms. Finally down the hall he saw something. It was a sword laying on the ground. Glowing red. Held by a gauntleted hand.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Jaelyan was deadly silent in the company of the King's men, her eyes spitting venomous blades at Mithiel's back. She would bide her time as her options seemed a bit scarce at the moment. She turned to look behind her, watching her home burn to the ground.
Then she watched as the fool highlander barreled back into the house, screaming for Arguyle. "Perhaps tis nae a complete loss after all," she whispered to herself with a soft chuckle.
Meanwhile, Moryan saw the armsman dash back into the house. She clutched Carrington's hand and pointed. "Where the bloody hell is he going? Isna that Arguyle's brother?" As Carrington nodded, the two looked at one another, and immediately bolted into the inferno themselves and chased after Mithiel.
At the same moment, they all spied the great sword, and the gauntleted hand. The room ablaze with searing heat and there was little time left!
"We've got ta get him out o' there!" she yelled, and immediatly set to digging out her friend.
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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/bump
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Mithiel
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Mithiel and Moryan frantically pulled burning timber from on top of Arguyle. Mithiel could feel the blisters on his hand bursting open as he grabbed red hot board after red hot board. Sweat dropped from his forehead and he could see the soot gathering on the corners of Moryan's mouth and in her eyes.
Arguyle had not moved since they began digging and Mithiel was becoming more and more worried that they were too late. Finally they made it to the huge beam that had pinned Arguyle to the ground. It had come down right across his back and his armor had been dented as him hammered by a battering ram. Mithiel tried to lift the beam but it was too heavy. He and Moryan tried to pull Arguyle from beneath it but the weight of the beam was too much. He was pinned and the only way to get him out was to get the beam off of him.
Knowing that his brother's life depended on the next few moments he bent over and grabbed the beam. Then in a feat of Herculean strength he let out a bellow and lifted the beam up and over his head.
"G..G..Get him out!!" cried Mithiel to Moryan.
Moryan just nodded. She lifted Arguyle onto her shoulder and carried him out of the house. Just as Mithiel saw her clear the hallway he dropped the beam onto the floor. Then he heard a creaking sound beneath him and as he began to move the floor gave way. Mithiel and the floor both crashed 10 feet below into the cellar. As he lay there dazed he saw the rafters from the ceiling above give way. Then there was bright sunlight shining through the gaping whole in the roof. A sharp pain in his chest. A gasp for air. Wet liquid spraying upward. Red liquid. Blood. Mithiel looked down toward his feet and he saw a one of the burning rafters sticking out of his chest.
His mind wandered to Ravyin. A tear ran down his cheek and he took his last breath. Finally at peace.
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The four men swung the partial column and it smashed into the door. Sparks cascaded down around them. Crispian urged them on. They swung again.
Arguyle paced frantically a few feet away, heedless of the raging blaze. He muttered and gestured, great sword still in hand. "Damn it, lad, get that door down!" he snapped, emotions and command instinct raging at war with each other. Didn't the boy know tha D'Vena HAD to be caught now and this all ended?
There was a snapping sound, slightly louder than any before. Then a renting of timbers. In a shower, the ceiling gave along a ten foot length between the doorway and the far wall.
In a cascade, timbers, plaster, lathe, and pegs fell to the ground. The four workers cried in panic as the wall teetered toward them and then gave way. With a sickly ripping, it seperated from foundation and ceiling, falling forward.
Battle training kicked in as Crispian brought his shield up and crouched down, shifting much of the flaming debris away from him. As he ducked his head, he saw Arguyle stagger as a beam struck him.
"GENERAL!" he screamed, hurling himself at the highlander and hitting square in the back. Arguyle flew forward, for despite being a small man, there was not a part of Crispian that was not solid muscle. With a grunt, the highlander slid on the floor. The beam continued its fall, landing solidly on Crispian's back.
The last thing he recalled was seeing a large section of plastered wall falling on Arguyle, sparks scattering forth and then a cool darkness.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Crispian_Pontiff
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At the edge of the gaping hole, Crispian's sprawled body laid.
The blessings from Darnyk still gave some protection to him.
He dreamt of cool fields of winter wheat, a flaxen haired girl, running barefoot to the stream with Jashen and Asotrem, stealing apples, learning the sword from Oakleif, Mirashta teaching him his letters, and then the sun, bright, hot on a summer day.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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King_Constantine
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Constantine and his escort arrived at the scene near the tail end of the conflict. He had hoped that it would not come to this but it did and it appeared that for the moment at least the usurper had been defeated. He road past the armed guards escorting Jaelyn D'Vena and gave a quick order.
"She is to be taken to the dungeons straight away. She is to have no contact with anyone." said the King.
The soldier in command of the escort saluted crisply, "Aye Your Majesty. Straight away."
Then Constantine spurred his horse forward. The house was still burning and there was a large crash and a billow of smoke as part of the roof collapsed. He could see the mercenary Moryan coming out of the house covered with soot and skin pink from the intense heat. She was carrying a large Highlander. He was wearing the burned remains of a cloak bearing the emblem of the Order of the Red Lions. The King immediately recognized the man as his friend Arguyle MacFadden.
Constantine dismounted and ran to aid Moryan. They gently laid Arguyle down and called for a cleric. Lightly pulling his helm from his head they found his face and neck blistered and burned.
"Cleric!!" yelled Constantine. "Cleric!!"
Moryan stroked the red hair of her friend. Constantine thought for a moment that he saw a look of fear on her face or perhaps it was only deep concern.
Suddenly, Arguyle's eyes opened and his lips began to move. His words were nothing more than wisps of breath. Constantine leaned forward and placed his ear over Arguyle's mouth.
"What are you trying to say old friend?" asked the King.
"Cris.......pian.......still.....in....side." whispered the Highlander.
Constantine looked at the house, fires burning. More of the roof collapsing. Then a look of fierce determination came over him and he called for his personal guard. Together the King and his dozen guards entered the house.
"Crispian! Crispian!" shouted the men.
They made their way from room to room and from hallway to hallway. Finally they found themselves at the area where the large hole was in the roof. Coughing and trying to clear soot from their eyes the men waded through the rubble. Then they saw it. A gaping hole in the floor and on its edge lay Crispian. The King and his guards cleared the rubble and made a path to the Seneschal of St. Crispin's League. Then carefully lifting him onto their shoulders the guards carried Crispian from the burning house.
The King, however, saw something or someone at the bottom of the hole. He grabbed two fo the guard and they lowered themselves into the hole. There they found a man impaled by a beam that had falled. Constantine recognized him immediately as Arguyle's older brother, Mithiel. The King knew that there was no way Mithiel could have survived the impaling and he ordered the men to pull the beam from his chest. They did and were aghast at the sight of the gaping hole where chain mail had been. Flesh and bone torn and broken. Blood flowing from the wound still.
The men lifted Mithiel and then began moving some of the fallen beams to form a makeshift ramp up to the floor above. Then they pulled Mithiel from the basement and carried him outside as well. When they were outside the King gathered his men and he ordered them to take the MacFadden brothers and Crispian to the palace and to place them under the care of the Royal Surgeon. He also ordered them to awaken the Pope and bring him to pray over the bodies.
He watched as the three men were carried off and then he turned to find the others.
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Ravyin saw the form of her father, looking lifeless and drenched in blood being brought out of the house. With a scream, she launched herself towards him, words of healing and prayer upon her lips.
"FATHER! NAE! Dun leave me!"
She was weak in skill, all her tutors said, but where she was weak in body, her heart and soul took over. Suddenly, a rush of gleaming light surrounded the young cleric. Whispers of wind and light arced around her young body ruffling her shimmering red hair, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, she knelt at her father's side and pressed her hands to his chest. "Live," she mumured.
"Live" she whispered again.
Around her the warriors took note, and suddenly it was deadly quiet. Moryan knelt nearby at Arguyle's side, cradling his head against her lap. Crispian lay near as well, his brother Jashen having found him. A bevy of clerics were closeby.
Drayton stood at his wife's shoulder, but at that moment, there was nothing in the world for Ravyin but the man that gave her life. His own life having been taken cruely from him.
Once more, she prayed, "Live."
With a jolt of healing energies and the touch of God's hand, her body stiffened and she gave herself to her faith.
And it was answered. Mithiel's eyes rolled under the lids, and he opened them slowly to gaze upon the face of his daughter.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Jashen half-ran and half-stumble to where the royal guardsmen were lowering Crispian to the ground. His brother's face was darkened with soot, eye-brows singed, and had it not been for the strap of his helm, his hair would have been too.
His armor, a great source of pride and always keep acid-cleaned to a high, shining finish, was scracthed, scraped and dented. His cloak was a ruin, as was the leather scabbard for swords and dagges. A ruined crossbow, souvenier from the Pygmy War in Lyonesse, hung from the remains of a frog at his right hip.
"Crisp?" Jashen croaked out, as his eyes filled with tears. He lifted Crispian's shoulder, but his head just rolled back on limp muscles. "C'mon, Crisp, brother," he whispered, fighting for control.
Tannir stood quietly watching, then stepped forward, resting hands on Jashen's shoudlers. "Tis a risk he knew, Sir Jashen," the boy said quietly. Jashen's wracking sobs errupted loudly as he buried his face against the squire's leg.
"Dear God, no!" he wailed, dispair tearing him apart. He exploded, suddenly, in deep rage, pounding fists into Crispian's breastplate of armor. "You aren't supposed to do this!" he cried, fists hammer again and again into the marred platemail. "You ass! You selfish ass! You can't die on me!" His clenched fists continued to thud against the armor, metal studs in Jashen's gauntlets ringing out on some blows.
Crispian coughed loudly, convulsing to a half-sitting position. "Then don't cave my chest in!" he gasped. He grunted as he laid back down, chest heaving deep breathes of fresh air into them, the burned and tortured throat convulsing.
Jashen, smiling around his tears, laughed suddenly, loudly, "You ass!" he yelped again. "I should kill you myself for a scare like that!" He grabbed his brother into a rough, fierce embrace, which Crispian weakly returned, allowing Jashen to help him up.
"If you don't let go of me, people will think I might kiss YOU!" he quipped, hobbling as Jashen's helped him across the yard. "And I'd rather have to be reminded of that from all the things that have happened in the last day or two!"
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Mithiel
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Mithiel found himself in a long, dark tunnel. At the end of the tunnel though there was a bright light. He felt himself being pulled to the light. He could hear voices, just beyond recognition, beckoning to him. Calling him to come to them. He wanted to go to them.
He felt at peace. So he walked toward the light. As he got closer he could see the flickering silhouettes of people standing in the light. They were waving to him and he felt compelled to wave back. He could not recognize them yet but he knew that he wanted to be with them.
"Mithy! Come home lad! Come home!" whispered the wind in the tunnel. A familiar voice.
"Come home!" called his mother.
"Ma? Ma!!!!" called Mithiel.
"Come to us son! Come home now lad!" said his father.
"Da!! I'm coming Da!" cried Mithiel. Tears streaming down his face. His heart pounded as he ran to his parents. He was home at last.
Then suddenly a slash of light shot in front of him and there was an Angelic Visage facing him.
"Mithiel. You have given your life so that your brother could live. Eternal happiness awaits you in the Kingdom of Heaven but you must choose. The Father will grant your entrance into his House and you can be with your parents for eternity. But there is another that needs and wants you to be with her. Your daughter Ravyin even now prays as she has never before. Will you enter Heaven or will you go to your daugther?"
Mithiel paused, torn between the pull of his parents and the love of the daughter he had never known.
"She needs me? She prays for me to come back to her? Why? I have never been there. I don't deserve her." asked Mithiel.
"I am sorry Mithiel. I cannot answer your questions. I am the gatekeeper and will open the gate of your choosing. Search your heart for your answer." answered the Angel.
Mithiel thought about his daughter and he thought about his parents. Then he knew what he must do.
"Ma! Da! I'm sorry. I'll be with you one day! I promise!" shouted Mithiel.
"Your choice is made Mithiel. I think you will find things not quite the way they were when you return. Trust in God and obey his wishes." said the Angel.
Then there was another slash of light. A gasp for air. Then the vision of an red haired Angel looking down at him with tears in her eyes.
It was Ravyin. His daughter.
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington had gotten seperated from Moryan in the fire as the beams came crashing down. He had to run through the burning building and exit the kitchen doors, making his way outside. A soldier ran up to challenge him, but Carrington reared back and took the man down with a single, massive smite. The man was incapacitated, but not dead. Just then, an Albion armsman came running around the corner to see what had happened. Carrington adjusted his cloak and nodded.
"Take him away." Carrington said, walking away, without turning around. He had to find Mory, and make she and everyone was ok.
He had to find all of them...any loss would have meant the night's failure...D'Vena wasn't worth one of them. They had to have arrested her...there was no possible way she could have gotten away in his mind. He ran around in the darkness lit only by the flaming manor, and tried to find his friends.
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CarringtonSony
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Albricht rode with four masked riders into the Black Mountains. His face was bruised, and his body beaten, but at last, Basaia had freed him. Albricht never said a word about where he got the bruised or the scars, and he never would. But tonight, they had more important things to worry about.
As they neared a small village, they could see smoke rising from a chimny, and a child sneaking outside of play with one of the cats who had found it's way here.
Albricht nodded to his men. This was the sight the haven was to be constructed on. Moryan's home, and home to many others. The small, peaceful, even beautiful village nestled in the Black Mountains. Albricht raised his hand, and he and his men ignited their torches. The scarred, blonde soldier's face sneered as he gave the order, and they slowly advanced on horseback. Nearing the the quaint village, peaceful, and wishing nothing else than to be left alone, the riders raised their torces. A fearsome sight they were....in the center, Albricht, with his rust colored cape and grey polished armor, and his men drressed in entirely black robes and hoods, with awful, silver masks shrouding their faces. A woman let out a lone shriek in the otherwise quiet night.
"NOW!!" Albricht screamed, shattering the silence of the dead still night.
And he and his men let the torches fly. They seemed to suspend in mid air as they flew, slowly flying toward each of the straw and sod homes that had been built. One struck home on a roof of a small, delapidated old hut, which almost immediately caught fire. Shriks of fright began to fill the night air as the torches flew through open windows, and striking doors, ignited the peaceful hamlet in flames.
Albricht, a wicked, almost sadistic grin on his face raised his hand again, and his men drew longbows. They lit their arrows aflame and raised them into the air, toward the hamlet. Albricht lowered his arms and flaming arrows hissed through the air.
A rain of fire fell as the arrows plunked home all over the village, some missing, some creating new fires on the homes. Once again, Albricht raised his hand, and more arrows raised, flaming, setting a horrid glow off the metal masks of his followers. And again, the arrows hissed through the air.
Albricht turned to his men and nodded.
"Flush them out." he said coldly, "Kill all the adults and cut them down, but round up the children. Tonight, we send a message."
His men all nodded and drew massive, unwieldy looking scimitars. Albricht drew his own, jagged blade and raised it into the air, signaling the charge. He and his men, on their massive war horses charged toward the small village...people were running all around, screaming, trying to rescue those caught within the flames. Then, a single woman turned to see the men charging, and let out a scream of warning.
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CarringtonSony
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Albricht and his men spurred hideously through the village. Men and women with thier children scattered alike. An old man let out a desperate cry as he was cut down by one of the riders. Albricht raised his jagged blade and cut down a woman from behind, killing her instantly. Her child screamed and began to weep.
He and his riders killed. They ran down men, and slaughtered the woman. Albricht rounded a corner and saw a young man, perhaps not even 17 years of age, raising a small sword, staring at him, a look of petrified fear in his eyes. Albricht raised his blade and brought it down on the young farmer's head, ending his young life. Albricht rode off, expressionless.
Albricht's horse thundered into the village center as he met his men.
"I'll take care of the rest of the survivors. The rest of you..." Albricht eyed them, all of the men looking like sadistic demons in their cold, expressionless masks, "Round up the children."
The men nodded grimly and rode off. Albricht turned, spotting a shrieking woman running out of the corner of his eye. He took off letting out a yell to spur his hosse foreward. The blonde soldier raised his blade and beheaded the woman cleanly, ruthlessly, with no regard. He left her writhing body there, and spurred off. He saw an old man limping around a corner, and spurred ahead. He had no feelings whatsoever for these commoners, they were chattle to him, mere pawns in the grand scheme. He didn't care about their family, or that one of them was Moryan's father, he didn't care. He saw the old man clammer into a large heystack as he rounded the corner. Albricht leaned over and repeatedly drove the blade into the haystack, the old man letting out howls of death as he thrusted the blade again and again into the haystack. Straw of gold ran red.
The rust-cloaked cultist rode away from the village and nodded to his men who surrounded the children at sword point. Most of them were weeping, some crying for their parents. Albricht tugged his helmet off and tossed it to the ground, his face black in places with soot. He let his pale blue eyes wander the children before he tilted his head, as if judging them. Albricht pointed to the small grove of trees and uttered a statement that would shatter a million souls.
"Hang them."
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Buildings smoldered in rubble. The once quiet little village was now nearly completely destroyed. The small street ran red with blood. Bodies were everywhere, some burned, some lying cold, cut down in shallow graves. It was a scene of chaos.
The village had been ended, no, killed by sadistic madmen. A rural genocide...a mass murder.
And just near the village the small grove of pines, the wind whistled through. The bodies of three dozen children rocked lightly in the wind, lightly touching each other as they hung and blew in the end.
On each body, the insignia of the Cult of the Long Night had been carved with some sort of twisted dagger, on each of the chldren's cheeks. They had made their intentions known.
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Glenin
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Glenin was wandering through the black mountains. Strange she thought, something big musta died, wonder what it was, as her eyes were drawn to a circling group of scavenger birds, and was that smoke...
She frowns to herself, a fire out here could kill lots of things, and shall probably need ta warn the locals around here. I'll take a look first, could be all over now.
Slowly she heads towards the direction of the circling birds. She frowns as she gets closer, the smell of death and burning lingering in the air.
She leaves the protection of the trees and rounds a small hill. Stops.
'Farkin hell'. Gazes at the scene of destruction around the village. The women and men brutally slaughterd. Pauses, drawing her sword, looking around cautiously for signs of Midguardians or Hibernians. Nothing else could have caused such a slaughter.
Skirts the village, cautiously, looking for signs of movement, somebody left alive, swearing under her breath as she looks.
Completes a circle of the village and has found nothing alive. 'They will pay fer this' she mutters.
Stoops ta pick up a doll lying on the ground and frowns. Looks around the village quickly.
Nae children to be seen. A movement catches her eye and she turns towards a copse of trees, the birds circling there also.
Approaches cautiously, hearing the wind through the trees and the creaking of branches.
Pushes her way through the trees and stops in shock. Her sword drops from nerveless fingers, a tear rolls down her cheek, she sinks to the ground staring at the bodies of children, her mind in shock from such a horror.
'
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Crispian_Pontiff
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D'Vena was being prepared for transport back to the palace, surrounded with guards, vigilent and aware.
She saw them emerge from the building, Moryan, that bitch, carrying the pig-farmer Arguyle. Mithiel, broken and bloodied came out being carried by two royal guardsmen, and followed by the king. Her mouth contorted into a pleased sneer at the sight of his body so. Lastly came some young warrior, also carried by royal guardsmen, who laid his body down on the grass. D'Vena hissed in anger and rage.
She knew him! And he, her. Intimately! Yet her he was, in the bossom of all those who would destroy her and the plans she held for the world. Damn that Bitch and the Swine Lord Uncle, and her husband! Her mind raged, insane hatreds welling and flowing in malice. Her eyes bulged and her fingers twiched, first in shock, then in a subtle pattern.
Slowly, she raised her arms slightly and chanted, words of power forming quietly then growing. A slow lassitude spread from her to the guards, their minds turned outward from her actions, if she could hold it long enough.
"Appetitio depravatio amatorius." Her hands snapped up, pointing at the young fighter as he lay on the ground and her eyes blazed with insane delight.
A cuff to the head brought her around quickly.
"Gag that wench and bind her fingers! She's a wielder of magicks you louts!" the captain barked, and led her off toward the palace dungeons.
No one saw her slight, twisted smile of pleasure as she was marched off.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}LadyWinterborne
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One of the riders slung herself off her horse, choking upon the smoke pouring from a nearby hovel. Her dark velvet cape fell to the ground, riling the cinder upwards in a small vortex from a burning crosstimber. Throwing her silvered mask to the ground, the pale-faced horseman looked at what her and the Cult's hand had carved.
The creation, the "Simulacrum" as the others had come to call her, stood still while wind fueled the flames of the ruined villa. Torchlight and fire, the smell of burning hay and tallow, an overturned cart of horsetack; the destruction was evident. Winterborne looked towards Albricht in the far distance, her knight-errant, her trusted liege, her lover and paused for a moment. She began to question her intent, to question what was right or wrong, what this was meant to prove. It was not the children's bodies that swung from a nearby tree that made her question these things, nor the slaughter of the villagers or the cruelty of the Cult's actions at this backwood homlet. Looking towards the ground, she focused into the mask, polished bright silver like a mirror; she saw her own visage. She ran her blackened fingers down her face, touching her high cheekbones and her thin lips. Was this who she was? Was this who Basaia created in the image of the true Baroness of Snowdonia? What was she, was she being used? Was she human, or just a cruel 'copy' of the original host? The Creation had never pondered these things before.
"Perhaps the Baroness would have answers...I am so utter-"
"Winter!" Albricht spoke clearly above the sound of the whistling of the burning wood. "Let us ride, we must depart before dawn!"
She mounted her powerful steed and joined with Albricht and the others as they rode away from the burning village. The only remain of herself that was left behind was the silvered mask, upturned, the sight of the village in ruin still captured upon it's surface.
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Bump!
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CarringtonSony
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/bump while I write more...
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Crispian_Pontiff
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The royal guardsmen came and collected their charges, moving them to the palace some distance behind the detachment in charge of D'Vena.
The royal surgeons' infirmary was a splendidly appointed room in the lower level of the palace. Their small staff bustled about and attendents descend on those brought in, devesting them of armor and inspecting for more wounds.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Glenin
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God alone knows how long she sat there. Her mind lost in the horror of the scene. Her eyes red and swollen, the horror reflected in the depths.
A scavenger landing right in front of her, squawking loudly brings her out of her reverie.
As she moves to stand up, she groans, her muscles locked in position.
She glances around, notices the fires are almost burnt out. Hmmm, how long did she sit there. Well better go and report this....
She stretches, working blood back into her aching muscles and then slowly starts to jog to the nearest guard tower.
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{old}LadyWinterborne
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/a good morning bump before I go to bed =)
Have fun at work!
-w1nt3r60rn3
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CarringtonSony
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Ah! Our precious RP thread!
/bump!
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darnyk
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/bump
(ooc is that how it works?)))
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{old}Alyzabeth
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Glenin found Moryan, and told her of the horror she had seen. Of the children, of the dead. Most were beyond the care of a cleric, most were beyond the ability to be restored to life. Even if restored, the memories of that fateful night would destroy the rest of their lives.
Moryan stood trembling in front of Glenin, as she realized her father was one of those slain. Glenin offered her arms and her shoulder, and hardened mercenary let herself go, and the tears flowed in the name of the innocent lives lost to the horrible, wanton death delivered by the insane.
After a long time, Moryan withdrew. Glenin knew where she was heading, and asked if she wanted someone to accompany her. It wasn’t safe, she said, but she knew her Guildmistress would go alone regardless. This was something she had to do.
So Moryan made the trek again to her small village, to the place she had such tender thoughts of childhood. She saw the destruction, the vileness delivered upon her own people. The Haven that was to be created was gone before it was built. Gone were the happy children, the smiling mothers, the proud fathers. The simple existence of a naïve life was shattered.
The mercenary knelt down, and scooped up a handful of blood-soaked earth. Smearing it between her palms, she swore an oath that day, to visit the same pain upon the perpetrators. Never would they again know peace whilst she had breath in her lungs, and strength in her arms. The war had become personal, and Moryan would see it finished. There was no doubt in her mind who would win, but she grieved for the innocents that would fall victim to the cruelness of the Cult of the Long Night.
With aching heart and soul, she slowly made her way to the inn room she and Caer were currently sharing. She bathed, washing off the filthy feeling, and crawled between the sheets. She lay there for hours before he finally came in, and when he saw her, she beckoned him over. As he climbed in to join her, she buried her face against his chest and let the pain ebb through her. She soaked up his strength, his love as he held her tenderly, brushing his fingers through her hair.
“It will be alright,†he murmured, over and over in her ear. She was silent except for the soft sniffles, and finally, she drifted into a drained sleep, as the cleric cradled her lovingly into the night.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/bump
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Rhus_Vernix
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bump
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{old}Alyzabeth
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/bump
<and runs off to find Carrington and drag him back to the boards>
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Crispian_Pontiff
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Crispian moved slowly up the long stairs. He ached. Oh God, how he ached! The Royal Physicians had pronounced him sound and whole and bustled him out of the infirmary. So he had come home, as it were.
Tannir helped him the last steps up and into the large, open room, easing him down on the narrow cot. Crispian grunted as he settled and Tannir began to work at the clasps and straps of his armor. The plate was removed with care, and as the under padding came off, the toll of the morning's work was evident.
Large purple-green bruises covered Crispian's back from where the beam had hit him. His fine blond hair was scorched and singed, a ragged uneven helm-shape just the size of his arming cap. His hands were blistered and raw. Even his face had a slight sheen to it from the burning.
"Rest here a moment, Sir, while I fetch some wine," Tannir muttered, shocked at the harm the fire had done. By the time he returned, Crispian was stretched out and sleeping soundly. The squire pulled a covering mat over him and settled him in more, taking up a vigil near the door.
Crispian drifted in sleep, images of fire, smoke, rubble. The fire seemed to close tighter, burning more. He thrashed in his sleep as the smoke-choked image filled his mind. Gibbering terror nipped at the edge of his sense, more terrifying than either a charge of trolls at Excalibur Castle or a glare from Moryan.
The flames clawed at him, no respite from the heat presented except a single, dark opening. He crawled toward it, his dream armor glowing red as he felt his body wither in the heat. The opening loomed larger and finally he was near to it, almost able to pull himself through.
Eyes glowed in that cool, dark space. Cruel, hateful eyes of green that near glowed. Thin, graceful hands beckoned to him as he crawled through the inferno, almost crying from the torment.
"Yes, grovel for relief and respite, traitor-boy!" a cruel voice hissed. Deepest darkness engulfed Crispian, his mind shrieking in terror and pain.
Tannir leaned against the wall watching Crispian trash under the mat, restless. He crossed himself, praying the nightmare would pass.
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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{old}LadyWinterborne
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The Baroness awoke from her sleep, a cold sweat running down her brow. The smell of the fires, the screaming of the children; the dream was still present within her mind. "Only a dream" she remarked to herself, as she took a deep breath and fell back onto her bed.
A moment of silence, she cocked her head slightly to the other side of her quarters. Reaching over, she sprawled lazily across the bed and drew the sheets back over herself. Yet still, the smell was fresh within her nostrils, the stir and the wake of the inferno omnipresent in her head. Something was not quite right...her fingers, scorched and blackened as if her hand had been thrust into a firepit. She froze, her breathing stopped as an aching pain erupted in her stomach. Was it her hand that brought the fires from the night before, or was it all just a dream?
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CarringtonSony
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Carrington cradled Mory in his arms as the night hours passed. She slept soundly against him, but he was sleepless. His mind began to roam over what the Cult had done to the place that would have been Moryan's heaven. It had to have been Albricht. He knew him too well. Basaia had no grudge with Carrington, but Albricht did. What better way to get to him indirectly than this?
Carrington adjusted himself, then kissed Moryan gingerly on the forehead. He then swore to himself that the Cult could wait no longer to meet their end...
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{old}Alyzabeth
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((question here folks.. we comfortable that everything so far is playable in game now as having happened? Its been way too long to not deal with some of this in game and let it progress that way.))
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Dresren
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((. . . . didn't we already do some of this in game? <blinks and yawns sleepily>))
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{old}LadyWinterborne
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ooc
I am well with it, but would like to continue with some of it in-game soon =)
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Channon_Katt
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/bump
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/ooc up to taking it in game, but um..where am I again?
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Crispian_Pontiff
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We should summarize and get in game
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/bump shamelessly
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FuzzyMoogle
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OOC:
Can Buford knee Carrington in the hacky-sack again?
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Tobyas
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So...this is where it started.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/bump U
UP!
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CarringtonSony
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A shadow shrouded in a cloak of black, flowing softly in the wind knelt at the edge of a sheer cliff, and tossed a small stone into the free space. He lowered his hood and uttered one phrase...
I am returning.
(OOC: I'll be back soon! Real life has been crazy lately...Fuzzy, hang on...everything is almost finalized....)
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CarringtonSony
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Ahh....seeing this thread reminds me of the old days... *sighs* A true pang seeing this baby still up there. 
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{old}Alyzabeth
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<gasps>
hes... ali'e!!!!
<winks>
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Bron_Baugh
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Carrington! My favorite cleric! Great to hear I might see you again
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Bronh- Witch Hunter of <Aislingeach> Pheonix Throne
Formerly: WoW:Doffh Priest of Thrall
DAOC: Bron Culloc-Hero of Guinevere
Doff McDuff- Friar of Nimue
Finneus- Hunter of Percival
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Arguyle_MacFadden
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Carrington!!
Get your arse back. The Order is in need of some good laughs and the Lord knows you are good for some of those!!
Arguyle
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Solitiri
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Carrington!!
I knew ye cannae stay away fer long!
Welcome home brother
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Crispian_Pontiff
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I am just glad that D'Vena will have someone else to pick on! Woot!
(grin)
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Greymalkin332
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/bumps so he can find it when he has time to read it
Keisha
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{old}LadyWinterborne
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ooc
/bumpo
...just 'cause I wanted to!
-w1nt3r60rn3
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{old}LadyWinterborne
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/back up there, dammitt!
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Tobyas
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If Carrington is coming back, people should read this
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Crispian_Pontiff
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So is Carrington REALLY back?
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{old}LadyWinterborne
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Carrington is over here in Percival = )
All your RP'ers are belong to us!
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/bump
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Chan_chan
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CarringtonSony
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<sigh of rememberance>
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/ponders
where is he now?
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CarringtonSony
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/sighs, remembering the past
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Kilaitz
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oh he's still a friar in the lions... and if he isn't... <smacks fist into palm>
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Anynta_Winterborne
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He was with me last night...
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CarringtonSony
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And Chan and the same time. 
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{old}DukeBasaia_IV
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You sly dog...
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CarringtonSony
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Deflowering daughters since 1066.
............
But actually she just got really smashed and slept in my bed.
............
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Anynta_Winterborne
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Yes, I was sleeping in Carrington's bed last night...
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CarringtonSony
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And 'man' was she sleeping.
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dragonpup
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Oh dear... 
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WoW: Leyvan(Undead Warrior/Shattered Hand)
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Chan_chan
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Middle of the night RP bump
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CarringtonSony
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/bumpz0rz
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Chan_chan
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((Just preserving the past))
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