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Post by Sir Walter Godfrey on Jun 17, 2005 19:47:52 GMT -5
The date was approximately two months and three days ere' the knight had first set foot upon the soil and it was early in the morning of that day as the knight again appeared upon the road to the capital. He traveled as he always had - his squire to the side and behind him leading the mule and himself riding upon his horse, decked out in all the trappings of war but none of the intentions. The road was perhaps a little more worse for wear, but if there were a few more holes in it he couldn't notice.
The only real difference between this approach was the fact that, instead of traveling next to alone, he was returning with an entire company of mounted knights at his back. These, however, were not the sort of knights that he had sallied forth to the mainland's war beside, but a dread company composed of fierce orcs and goblins, riding upon wargs and beasts of fire and fear. Thankfully they were acting much more organized than one who had read stories of them would at first think, for - though they talked incessently with each other in their native, gutteral tongue - even as they rode they did so in neat and orderly rows, five abreast and seven deep, which totaled thirty five in all. Or at least it would have, had not twelve of his men struck back when confronted with one of the town militia. Upon passing by a village, utterly unmolesting them, the company was set upon by the townsfolk who, thinking them demons and out for war, hotly pursued them with pitchforks and mattocks. Though their trap along the roadside was clever and they outnumbered the company at least three to one not including the dangerous mounts upon which they sat, Sir Godfrey was still a hardened tactician and had called a full rout which saved both the company and - doubtless - the peasents much hassle. What would they be, after all, if they attacked harmless peasents? Unfortunately, the twelve who had made a mockery of the captian's yoke had been dispatched not by the peasents but by their other companion's war blades.
Ironically, the company - the calvary of The Brutality - had been deemed 'The White Company' because of the selection process by which Godfrey chose such unlikely knights and kept them under rein. The rest of the army, led by either brawn or speed and not renouned for prudency, made some of Sir Godfrey's men look like the church's saints.
So, with their pennant flying - a white arrow upon a black background - with Sir Walter's, they approached the gates of the Capital.
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Serena Shadowsong
Newbie
"May my vengeance be your torment, your despair, your requiem." ~ Serena Shadowsong
Posts: 10
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Post by Serena Shadowsong on Jun 18, 2005 22:48:03 GMT -5
Sapphire orbs looked upon the gates of the capital, from the inside, the sapphire orbs of a woman dressed in flowing robes of ebony, and a cloak of obsidian, her face shadowed by it. The night air carressed her form with it's soft touch, rippling the tali of her cloak as it's gentle current swept it from abraising the ground. Digits reaching in her ebony bag of velvet, that was tied to her sash, she took what looked to be a rather large emerald, digits coiling over it, she felt it's power. She then held it in an open palm, carressing it with her ivory digits. Feeling the winds around her, she simply focused upon them, to manipulate them. Her lips of crimson parting to softly blow a small gale of wind burst to the gates, and they creaked open, flowing to the entry, or rather from where she was standing exit, digits coiling around the green gem. Her sapphire orbs met with his eyes, staring into them, to maybe peer into the depths of his very soul. Of course she could've cared less what lie there.
"So this is the Great Knight, Sir Godfrey, how quaint. I'm so honored to meet you, and I'll be so honored to do this aswell."
Bringing her hand up, digits uncoiling to reveal the green gem, an echoing whisper escaped her lips, "Ash falo thra'tul." Words of power echoed through the demi-plane with in the crystal. It began to glow brightly, as two ethereal beings came form it. Souls, this was a fairly simple spell, to her. The Gem in which they where held was made by Four Sorceress' within the Sisterhood of NightBane, one of them being her. In side the gem was a demi-plan where all souls consumed by them went, or if one of the sorceress' died this is where their souls tread, not to be graced in Heaven or well let's get real, hell. The souls where at the beck and call by the gem's current master, which would have to be one of the Four Sorceress, Rune Darkmoon, Serena Shadowson, Sata Nur, or Raven Blackfeather. And one of the many spells that coudl be cast this was one to drain the essence of a man, or womans life, any sentient being can be effected by it. As it wears on and on, if the souls are not banished by a particularly powerful spell, then in a short amount of time, the souls would suck away all of his or her life, and consume his or her soul, condemning them to torment and servitude in the Demi-Plane of souls with in the Gem. With a blow from her lips, they went forth to him, surrounding him, they seemed to snicker in their own way. "Yes I also would like the honor to kill you." The souls would begin to extract away his lifes very essence, very soon if he did not stop these souls, he would begin to grow pale and limp, severly fatigued, and then he would die....and be consumed by the glowing gem with in her hand.
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Post by Sir Walter Godfrey on Jun 19, 2005 12:22:46 GMT -5
The company entered through the neatly opened gates, only to be haulted by an emerald-wielding woman who greeted the company's leader. From atop his mount, Sir Godfrey looked down at the woman curiously. Though it was strange the way she greeted him, he decided that he would not be rude and so returned the strange endearment.
"It is an honor to cross paths with you, too, My Lady," he spoke, though he did not do her the grace of removing his helmet, for she was casting a spell. Godfrey, noble knight that he was, had seen witches burned at the stake for pacts with the devil. He respected the culture, however, of the people of Ulster, as such he did not order the immediate death of the woman. It was part of a knight's oath to 'Dispatch evil in all of it's ghastly forms', and though he was also taught to respect women, she had lost her place in his eyes the moment she had begun to whisper so strangely.
Now, the rest of the company sat in their saddles, bows, staves, and spears at rest, not knowing quite what to make of it.
Then came the whispers of the spirits, and the shining knight at the head of the company sat immediately rigid in the saddle. He was heard to whisper "Though I walk in the shadow of... ....death...." before looking down to the woman with the emerald, back to his company. He raised his hand.
"At the ready!" he cried, for he had been shown she was not without weapon. It would therefore be quite honorable to kill her immediately.
The bows of the company hopped to the ready, and in moments they had nocked their arrows and leveled them at the sorceress. Again, the honorable Sir Godfrey spoke.
"Madame, you have two choices. The first is that you continue, whereupon I order them to loose bolts at you. The second is that you cease your spellcasting and come quietly to the Queen and the castle with me, therein to be tried for witchcraft and attempted murder. Make your choice!"
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Post by Willow on Jun 19, 2005 13:48:56 GMT -5
“Nanny, nanny, may we go pick mommy a bouquet? I am through with my studies!” The studies were a bore. Willow was taught about mathematics, how to keep track of basic bookkeeping. The tutor also sought to drill nonsense about history that really held no interest with the princess. However, the child was thrilled about war scenes, and often imagined herself in the mix. Poor Amelia attempted to keep up with the child in energy and conversation. Her hands fumbled with placing a simple dress over the girl’s head. The gloves came next, underskirt, and then the horrid tights. Willow squirmed during the ordeal. She adored dresses, but found them a pain to bear with. “Was my daddy a hero? Is that why my mommy married him?” It was apparent that the child didn’t know enough about her parentage. “Be patient child, I canna’ keep up with you!” On cue, Willow placed her arms out in a knowing manner. The petticoat was quickly slipped on and fixed around her small frame. Ruffles were quickly straightened, her boots finally slipped on and buckled, and finally her hair fixed in a quaint ribbon of sage to match the dress.
“Is Sir Godfrey here this morning? Has the bloke left? I should have liked to see him beg my mommy!” Remembering her tantrum, the young child looked to her nanny with a shame-filled face. “Do you think mommy hates me?” Hate was a strong word even for Willow. The question shocked her nanny and caused her to catch herself before speaking. “Of course not, my pumpkin, your mother was stressed with the court that eve.” Fixing the girl’s ribbon, making sure every curl was in order, she replied once more, “Someday you will feel the burden of what it means to be queen.” Not wanting anymore of this talk, her nanny escorted her out of the thick oak doors with a quick pat on the behind. “Come, come. We must hurry if we are to pick flowers for your mum.”
Willow remembered those lovely picnics with her mother on the veranda. She was just a young girl then, not even six or seven, but she remembered each detail vividly. Delicate china set, the aroma of foreign tea and her mother’s bubbly voice. If only her mother could join her now. Not wanting her mood to be spoiled by afterthoughts, she began picking flowers immediately. Each one was placed in a simple order taught to her by the maids. All of the flowers were in full bloom and she marveled at the splash of colors before her. She began picking a separate bouquet once completed with her mother’s. Rushing to her nanny, she blushed upon handing her the present. “This is for you, nanny.” Then without another thought, she quickly ran back to her promising flowerbed of daffodils and bluebells.
She perked up, becoming startled by the sounds of a skirmish up ahead. The child became alert and frightened, running to her nanny’s side. “It sounded like a man! Are we to return to the Castle, nanny?” Amelia patted the child with ease, comforting her all the while with words. “No child, someday you will have to face the world as your mother has. We will see if this person needs aid.” ….Aid? What was this word? “You mean we are to help them!?” The child ‘s eyes widened at her nanny’s proposal. “They could be a slew of commoner’s meaning to rob us!” Not knowing whether to hold in the chuckle, her nanny crept forward without a word said. They both spied Sir Godfrey and his claim of a witch in the wake. “My lord, what is this business? Pardon my intrusion, but I represent her majesty, the queen and her daughter, the princess. Are you in need of assistance?” The broad woman stood her ground, stubborn as any old boar. She had seen her years. Her pleasant complexion had turned leathery and her backside broadening. The sudden change in appearance was most likely due to the headstrong princess. Having once been vibrant, the woman now resembled that of a cream-fed cat. Her voice expressed a demand not to be ignored by the two meaning to upset the kingdom.
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Post by Kahlan Lothair on Jun 19, 2005 20:03:17 GMT -5
The greater part of the morning and early afternoon had been spent buried beneath a mound of paperwork. A mound that seemed to procreate on the desk as it sat, waiting for approval. Kahlan on the other hand sat on the window seat behind her chair. The chair served as a shield to ward off the work encroaching on her personal space.
She would separate the work into two separate piles: Accepted and Denied. Then have the scribes take care of the rest as she had better things to contribute her time to than being baricaded behind paper and scrolls. With her forehead pressed against the glass, Kahlan drifts off into a day dream thinking none the worse for it.
The majority of her concentrates on Ian and equally her daughter. Long lashes flutter slightly as Kahlan closes her eyes and breathes in the musty old room smell of her Study. She had fallen hard for Ian. No one had been able to affect her so quickly, so deeply, and create a sense of self completedness like he had. Slowly Kahlan allowed her eyes to flutter open only to watch Amelia guide Willow out to a nearby field.
The flowers were exquisite, opened to their peak and their scent at its height. With an inquisitive look on her face, Kahlan leans forward (careful of the glass) and watches as Willow plays about the field. When the two disappear behind the wall, Willow somewhat stiffly and they do not return promptly, Kahlan begins to worry. Watching a moment longer, and finding still no sign of return, Kahlan forgets work and daydreams and heads for the field.
Neglecting to grab a cloak or any other implement, Kahlan strides to the castle gate itself and watches from the road the goingson. Sir Walter had returned? Frowning at his entourage, Kahlan immediately spies Amelia speaking to Godfrey with Willow in tow. Aghast that Amelia would dare the life of the Princess in such a rash action, Kahlan begins to walk toward the gathered group.
As of yet, Sarena was obscured by Godfrey and his horse. Long strides carried her within speaking distance but not too close. "Amelia." Came Kahlan's voice, little better than a hiss. When the woman jumped with the sound of the voice and turned, she understood that she'd taken a wrong step somehow. "Aria, come to mum." Kahlan glances down to Willow and smiles to her. She was not angry at Willow, but rather at her nanny for so thinking to jeopardize the life of her daughter. As of yet, Kahlan did not acknowledge Godfrey or his brethren in battle. Her eyes focused on Willow and she met the girl halfway with a great hug and a kiss between her eyes.
"Are you alright my darling?" Kahlan questioned as she shot a heated glance in Amelia's direction. "Come with me back to the Castle. Ive the rest of the day off. We can spend it together." Now she acknowledged Godfrey, dared him to object her statement within her own Kingdom and in the streets of her own Captiol. "That is, unless Sir Godfrey would that I speak with him first." Resting a hand on her hip, Kahlan waited for Godfrey to speak his piece.
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Serena Shadowsong
Newbie
"May my vengeance be your torment, your despair, your requiem." ~ Serena Shadowsong
Posts: 10
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Post by Serena Shadowsong on Jun 19, 2005 21:39:42 GMT -5
Her sapphire orbs cut to the rest of them, foolish mortals. So he thought he would back her up, and isolate the women...fool. So apparently he didn't know how to fight the souls, the fool. They would now begin to severly weaken him, by draining his life, rather quickly. As for the bolts, please. At that moment, she began to tap into her mind, thinking of a very useful spell, good for protecting even entire battalions of soilders. Again she would utter a soft echo of power, one un-detectable, "Ash falldala, shieldara, somun!" And suddently an undetectable force field would surround her, one that was almost un-prnatrable, it was called the Shiled wall, a spell that she had learned in her days as a Wizardess in Ashvlorendal, pity this was the first time she ever had to use it. She hated being threatened and insulted, she was no mere witch. "My dear mortal. I am no mere witch...how dare you insult me. I am a sorceress, and not one to be messed with. Fool."
She smiled under the shadows of her hood, the souls circling him, draining his lifes essence (as you made no attempt to stop them...so I'm not autoing I'm just saying what they're doing as you neglected to defend.). And a chuckle escaped her lips as she, slashing at them with a sword would not help. No...only a high caliber spell could destroy, or banish a spell. He should not have come here, especially to meet her at the gate, for it would be his death, his final requiem. His last venture, to be easliy slain by a sorceress. "Now, if this is not honorable for you, why don't we draw swords," she said in a sarcastic tone, "Or well, I would if I cared for honor Mortal. And if we ever meet again, tell me what it's like to die!" The souls continued to do her work, he woudl be dead in no time.
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Post by Sir Walter Godfrey on Jun 20, 2005 11:21:02 GMT -5
As Sir Godfrey slumped forward in the saddle his hand fell. This was not so much from intention as from chance, for he had withdrawn into himself and had begun to strengthen his mental reserves. He was, in most senses of the word, unconcious from the strein of fighting off the spirits. Anyone with any magical sense could see this.
Like clockwork, bolts of the highest caliber sang forth from the crossbows of five warg-riders. The bolts, of course, were not enchanted - but they were sharp, and they were dangerous. The only human rider dressed as a squire quickly dismounted and - amidst the sudden assult - came to the knight's side and steadied him in the saddle, taking the reins and leading him from the front lines back through the rows of wargs and fire-beasts, who closed in about him like a swarm to protect him. They might not look like the most honorable bunch, but they respected their commander.
Three other calvarymen ignored the queen (for, sooth, they did not know her) and drew their weapons. They dismounted, but the rest of them were not stupid enough to all rush to one combatent. If they did that, their sword-strokes would strike their comrades! Instead, they began winding their crossbows and loading them. Those with the recurve bow simply fired.
The three who had dismounted rushed the sorceress. The first of them was a stout goblin with a great warhammer, garbed in chain mail and a skullcap. The second was a small orc, but just as deadly - for he wielded both a scimitar and a large shield, not to mention the skullcap and chain mail emblazoned with the white arrow sigil. The third was, again, a Goblin - garbed in much the same way as the other two and weilding a large club and a nasty expression.
All counted, the total of ranged attacks on the sorceress was about five bolts and twelve arrows - none of them enchanted. The three who had come behind those arrows began to handily dispatch the shield with great, powerful, sweeping blows. The company's other fifteen encircled Sir Godfrey.
Perhaps he should have shot first, spoke later? The Queen, surely, would understand what was happening, though as she had come at a later time she would likely only see the ending of the little scene and the violence and wild abandon with which the company went about destroying the harlot who had cursed their captian. The key to it all lay in the fact that Godfrey had become unconcious before it had all happened - due to the woman spellcaster who stood rigid in the line of fire.
Godfrey was helped out of the saddle by his squire with the aid of one of the company's strongest men. Together, the two of them removed Sir Godfrey's helmet and coif to reveal his eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Since they did not know what to do, they sent the squire in a rush to the Queen (who was likely very surprised indeed). If she was running from the scene then it would be the squire the caught up with her to relay the story.
He finally found her in relatively the same place he remembered. Jules was a sandy-haired lad of nineteen, and though he had been with the knight for most of the war he had been snatched away from it before earning proper knighthood. As it was, he wore a red belt. A little rudely, he pulled the queen aside and began to haistily explain why the fight was happening while it was still raging. He dictated a scene where Godfrey and the company had just entered the city when they were stopped by this woman - he pointed to the sorceress who was under such heavy assult - and Godfrey had spoken with her, then gone rigid. Now he had collapsed, they had no idea what to do, and they needed a doctor or cleric. All this Jules explained in a short expanse of time, for it was his gift.
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Post by Willow on Jun 20, 2005 14:22:06 GMT -5
Amelia looked frightfully upset at her queen and even more shocked when the boy pulled the queen to the side so roughly. “Lad, I would suggest removing yourself from the queen, lest you want to be tried for an offense on her majesty!” The stoat woman stood in front of the queen and princess, aware of the dangers before her. She had experienced such magic’s in her youth and could easily recognize a curse or two. Hopefully her queen would see her valiant behavior and excuse her for putting the princess in danger. In all honesty, she thought of the princess as caged and far too pampered for her age. Let the child work and experience life outdoors! This experience would be a good lesson for the young girl. She would not survive as queen for very long, should the time come. The older queen’s had been strong, and athletic and she knew Willow was none of these things. Her strength and mentality were as frail as a buttercup in springtime. It would do her good to see how people lived outside of her cage.
“Let us be off. We do not need to witness this audacity any longer. I’ll make us some tea. Come child. Aunty Amelia will teach you how to roll the dough into sugar cookies!” Amelia bent to the eye-level of the child and expressed a genuine smile. Standing up, she became eye-level to the queen. Anyone else would have felt sheer terror upon seeing this face. Amelia only returned the woman with a look of regret for her wrong-doing. Whispering to her, making sure that Willow could not hear her apology and foul-up, she spoke carefully, “Your majesty, I sincerely apologize for my insolence. I did not know any better and I put her life at risk. It will not happen again. I do hope you will let me stay in her care. I do so love the child as my own!”
Willow interrupted the two, not noticing the strain in their conversation. “Mommy, look at what I picked for you!” Stretching her arm, she produced a single bouquet that began to sag unexpectedly. The child looked mournfully at the pitiful sight. Her hard work had been put to waste and now her mother would never forgive her! “It was an apology bouquet…” The entire fight left her mind. Now the only concern left in her was her mother. Willow could honestly care less who would survive the brutal onslaught.
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Post by Kahlan Lothair on Jun 20, 2005 20:17:16 GMT -5
When the squire's hand wrapped around the Queen's arm and she heard Amelia's distraught voice just as she was roughly tugged aside, Kahlan became angry. Jerking her arm from the hand of the squire, Kahlan peered over at the boy.
"Touch me not." She growled. In her current condition Kahlan appeared more lupine and far more fierce than she'd previously shown in public. To her, she felt as though her own child's life were at risk. A cautionary glance back to see Amelia holding Willow to her side gives Kahlan a moment's ease. "An infirmary is just about the corner. Had you thought to send someone to find it you could already be on your way." One last glance of contempt toward the squire and Kahlan turns to exchange a few words with Amelia.
"You are forgiven." Her voice is gruff until she feels Willow tug at the base of her shirt to get her attention. Tilting her head down, Kahlan urges both Willow and Amelia further from the chaotic scene at hand. When she hears Willow's voice break through the tumult, her heart wrenches at what she finds troubling her daughter. Bending down to one knee, Kahlan pulls Willow to a halt.
"Oh, Aria the flowers are beautiful but you have nothing to apologize for." Pulling her daughter into a tight embrace, Kahlan looks at the flowers with a smile. "They only need a bit of water. Then we'll put them on my desk so I can enjoy them. How does that sound my precious?" Laying a kiss on the girl's temple, Kahlan took her hand and hurried with her and Amelia back into the safety of the Castle walls. Once inside, Kahlan hands the flowers to Willow and asks her to find a vase to place them in and some water to feed them as well. With a gentle push Kahlan smiles to the girl before snagging Amelia by the arm as she thought to go by.
"You are forgiven, but do not overstep your bounds." Kahlan did not meet the woman's gaze and as Amelia tensed under her grasp, the Queen knew she feared. "I will let Willow see what the world has to offer when the time comes. I will be the one to teach her. Do not ruin a child's hopes and dreams with a rash remark or a calloused hand. Becoming a world wise woman in a Kingdom as large as Ulster takes years of arduous training. Training that does not begin until the tenth year." Letting Amelia go, Kahlan finally glances down to her with steel blue eyes. "I have known you since you were a babe in your mother's arms. Do not think that wisdom from one lifetime can override what I know." Amelia knew that Kahlan was immortal, that she would be around forever should nothing kill her.
She did not know the reason for Kahlan's immortality or that she'd been reborn.
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Post by Sir Walter Godfrey on Jun 21, 2005 11:04:50 GMT -5
"His illness is not physical!" Jules cried, not one to be put off even by the anger of a Queen, "We need more help than a physician can give, for he is physically sound! Can you not see he has been put under a hex by this woman - one of your citizens! By God! It's a sad day indeed when a member of a royal family can not protect ambassadors from assult - by God in heaven I charge you; you are a sorceress yourself; help him or worse will come of it!"
Jules was becomming rather desperate. If the queen refused help to a dying man she was not fit to be that queen in the mind of Jules. And more than one rider would escape this day to relay the story to others - all would hear of the inhospitable disposition of the Kingdom of Ulster, whose walls were unsafe for honorable travelers and passerbys who meant no harm. Jules was witnessing what was nothing short of murder - and the Queen and her company was just standing by, doing absolutely nothing, fiddling over their own forgiveness and meaningless yammerings. Could they not see the battle that had joined? Could they not see the anger of the company, whom had come under a pretence of peace!?
This was outrageous, and Jules was fuming silently within himself. Even as the queen left he turned to find that no progress had yet been made in the battle.
With one last look back to the castle, Jules turned to his comrades and cupped his hands.
"Fly! Fly!" he yelled, "We have been betrayed!"
Immediately the company broke off the assult and re-mounted as best they could. The pounding of both paw and hoof was to be heard as the company retreated from the castle gates, leaving the assassin sorceress victorious for another day and the honorable captian on the brink of death, carried along on another man's mount.
They would find help elsewhere.
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Post by Willow on Jun 23, 2005 12:29:37 GMT -5
Godfrey’s man cried the betrayal which sent shiver’s up and down Willow’s neck. The man was insane and her mother had let the crazy into their kingdom! She would not be cross, frustrated, or shallow about the situation. In the next few minutes, Willow tried her best to be patient with her mother. All the while imagining being wed to such an imbecile. “Mother, I do not want to marry an idiot such as Sir Godfrey.” Forgetting about the lop-sided bouquet, she found a new interest in her future. “Will you let me pick the man mother? I do not think I would enjoy being wed to some cocksure husband.” Her tongue had obviously improved - for the better or worse. Terms that a child her age should not understand, flowed from her as fluidly as a second language. Pensively she drew the scene from her mind, gathering her mother’s palm into her own. She led them back to the castle forgetting about the Knight that sought to wrench evil from their land. Looking back to her mother, she piped up a question that was both insulting and curious, “When will you find me a father, mother? You are not as young as the court ladies.” “Men do not like us to be too old.” Willow did not understand the concept of what her mother was. Immortality was the farthest from her mind.
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