Completed The War of The Kinniger Duchy

[Crows Call]

The warrior-poet left the tent, the lightly clouded mid day and the sun peaking out from the clouds. He made a hard right, continuing forward, he then began moving through the heavily organized labyrinth of tents. The colors and waves of sounds began filling his senses, he could feel the presence of the living so close to him. Men mulled about in their tents and just outside, they polished their armors, played instruments, drank, he even caught the glimpse of one man sketching a sparrow hanging on a branch.

He would have gone to chide and drink with these men, but he wanted to taste more than talk, and to do that, he had to find that damned wash tent. Eventually he came out an end of the labyrinth of tents and found the field smithy, next to that was more than a few large wooded vats about waist height filled with murky and a light red tint in some of them. He had found where the men cleaned the blood and muck off their armor.

It had been long since the warrior-poet had the opportunity to maintenance equipment, but the knowledge remained strong in his mind. He beckoned to the smith for any somewhat clean rags he might posses, and the kindly smith gave him a few cloths he hadn't used on the weapons he maintenanced yet. He stripped off his vessel's helm, graves, pauldrons, and gauntlets. Splashed water onto them, washing the blood from them and then quickly dried them, as not to allow rust or tarnish to receive fertile grounds to flourish. He then removed his now bloodstained white over-cloth of his vessels lord. Folding it, then removing his mail of chain and giving it to the smithy to clean and repair, leaving him in just his lightly bloodstained clothes and for mentioned plates.

The Warrior-Poet had realized something: he hadn't viewed the face of his vessel. He took off his helm and looked over and into the wooded vats water, starring back at him from the reflection was the face of a lightly tanned, strait-raven-haired, thin-faced man. He stared into the sunken blue eyes that stared back with the hint of yellow around the inner iris being the only obvious sign of his possession."So that's what you look like..." ,he said to the reflection.

He held his helm and the folded and bloodied colors of the local lord under his arm, and waved warmly to the blacksmith. Crows Call and his vessel took their stride, heading back the way they came. They would come back for the chain and mail, but for now it was time to try some of that delicious food.

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

“I won’t.” Ferelith said stubbornly. “You would go for my sake and I would never forgive myself.” She said trying to use Heike to stand. Pulling herself to her feet with a grunt. “I’ll be fine..” She lied. Her trembling hands and black smoking wounds... She was very close to death and getting closer by the moment. “Besides..I can’t leave... can I love..” She said to Heike. Looking her dead in the eyes before breaking that eye contact as it seemed her loves choice would already be made in that event.

She knew how the powers that be worked as well as Heike.

They wouldn’t allow a criminal to simply leave and “promise they’d be back.” No. Ferelith has a week at most and it would take that long to even get a messenger there and back just to be told no. And even if a miracle occured and they received a resounding yes..They would have less than a day to make a journey that took 4 to 5. She would never make it. So she limped back to the tent on her own power. Slowly mind you, but as the healer came Ferelith swatted her hands away and kept walking until she got to the door way of her tent.

“You need to go to others.” She told the medic. Her mouth a hard set line of with held emotions. The medic actually let out a laugh. An ugly, mirthless chuckle of someone who genuinely hoped she was joking but deep down knew she meant what she said. After that one moment she refused to look anyone in the eye.

“I would like to be left alone now please.” She said quietly. A look of acceptance replacing a look of pure, nervous fear. Shehad a coughing fit before slipping inside of her tent where suppressed moans of agony she desperately tried to hold in would escape from the tent as she finally laid back down.

The truth would only bring pain. There was nothing they could do for her. Truth or no truth. So she would spare them the painful truth.

It was the least she could do. They wanted her to come to them? Fuck em. She would rather die right here alone and in agony than give them the pleasure of their game working.

With that small comfort she rolled over as her thought s turned to Heike. The pain in her chest became to great as she held back her sobs. Her smile, her gentle careful touch, her voice, her... A tear struck the pillow her head rested on. And then another only to be followed by many more as she tried to driftoff into a painful sleep.

 

[Sir Eberwolf Kinniger]

“I won’t.” Ferelith said stubbornly. “You would go for my sake and I would never forgive myself.” She said trying to use Heike to stand. Pulling herself to her feet with a grunt. “I’ll be fine..” She lied. Her trembling hands and black smoking wounds... She was very close to death and getting closer by the moment. “Besides..I can’t leave... can I love..” She said to Heike. Looking her dead in the eyes before breaking that eye contact as it seemed her loves choice would already be made in that event.

“Who says she’d go alone? If you truly lack the faith in your friends and loved ones to trust them with a truth to save your life, then why do you bother befriending them at all? Everyone in this tent cares about you to some degree, so why would you abandon them, your sister, your lover. You would abandon them for the sake of your pride?” Eberwolf says to her calmly. “Perhaps I misjudged you.”

 

[Kyla Scathach]

“What do you mean “no” ?” Kyla growled at the man guarding the axit to camp. “Sorry miss, but those shackles mean you can’t leave. Neither of you.”

“I want a second opinion.” She growled only seeming to get more dangerous by the passing second. “Sorry miss I’m the only gate guard right now.” The guard responded cooly.

“There’s about to be two.” Kyla snapped back reaching for her sword. “I wouldn’t advise that miss.” He suggested calmly. His own hand drifting to his own sword handle.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” Kyla asked with a smirk.

“Because if you think it’ll be hard to get past me, just think of how hard it will be to get your sister out of camp when the whole camp is trying to cut you down. You really think you can make it?” He questioned causing Kyla to bristle. “You think I couldn’t boy?” She spat.

“I know you couldn’t. Now go back to your sister. It sounds like you have a lot to talk about. Away from my post.” He said never backing down an inch. “Fine you little snotty bastard...” Kyla grumbled moving away and back to the tent.

“Well?” She asked Eberwolf. “She come clean? We’ve got a lot of work to do to figure out how to...” She saw the medic leave the tent. Her things gathered. “Wait..I..Why are you leaving?” She stammered our as the medic passed her.

A desperate look was starting to come into her eye. Her fingers twitching.. This was a bomb getting ready to go off if someone didn’t at least attempt to defuse it. “Is she recovering now? Can I see-.” She moved to open the tent when the nurse shook her head and kept walking.

“Then come back!” Kyla demanded. “She needs you until she’s better right? That’s what you people are supposed to..do..” Kyla’s tone was someone begging even if her words sounded commanding from her expression and tone it sounded like begging from someone who had never begged. It was gut wrenching my pitiful to hear that tone escape Kyla’s lips. “Please? Help me save her!” She yelled after her.

“I..This isn’t how this works..I..I can think of something..I always think of something...” She said as she sank to her knees at the door of the tent Muttering to herself in an almost manic trance. “Gunhild..” She whispered through the tent door.

“Tell them please...I can’t help you alone this time..I..Don’t give up on us to spare us the pain..To spare them the pain..Please sister..I need you to let me help..“

 

[Sir Eberwolf Kinniger]

“Then come back!” Kyla demanded. “She needs you until she’s better right? That’s what you people are supposed to..do..” Kyla’s tone was someone begging even if her words sounded commanding from her expression and tone it sounded like begging from someone who had never begged. It was gut wrenching my pitiful to hear that tone escape Kyla’s lips. “Please? Help me save her!” She yelled after her.

“I..This isn’t how this works..I..I can think of something..I always think of something...” She said as she sank to her knees at the door of the tent Muttering to herself in an almost manic trance.

“Not to worry Kyla. You seem to have an understanding of how this injury works, and who caused it. And since Ferelith is unwilling to give us the necessary information, what you know is what we have to work with. I’m not going to sit by and let your sister die on you, even if she wants to. What do we need to do?”

He was serious about this. He would go with her to help her find something for her sister’s ailment. It seems that they’d be going on a little adventure of their own whilst the army recovered, it was likely the best time for it, as it was always after the battle that the long waiting of war began anew, so going out on a quest was best done after it began. It would be a while before the army was ready to move forward again and push further into vampire territory, so they had no pressing issues there to deal with.

 

[Crows Call]

The warrior-poet and his vessel exited the other end of the soldiers tents, passing the injured tent, and made haste to the mess hall. on his way there he spotted that peculiar one, Kyla, and a knight in white armor. He eves-dropped on their conversation hearing, "...know is what we have to work with. I’m not going to sit by and let your sister die on you, even if she wants to. What do we need to do?" This caught the warrior-poets attention, that was quest talk! Though he wanted to taste the food of the living, an adventure for curatives was much more exiting! He hoped it would be an adventure of the likes of an abandoned ancient ruin, filled with traps and ancient protectors, or into a secretive wizard's secret lair in hiding of him, his thoughts raced with the opportunities for adventure. He quickly leaned against a wall and started small talk with an off duty guard, keeping himself in proximity to their conversation but not arousing any suspicion. He wondered what crazy, lovely, dangerous proposition they would soon discuss...

Sir Eberwolf Kinniger [B]Kyla Scathach[/B] (OOC: I keep forgetting to add these! {-_-} )

 

[Heike Eisen]

I won't.

Two words. Two words that absolutely infuriated Heike. What in the hell had gotten into Ferelith? Why had she become so resigned to her own death in the face of this strange new affliction? For what? What, exactly? Heike could see no good reason, and Ferelith had hardly provided one--if such a reason could even possibly exist.

There was just so much that Heike simply did not know about this whole ordeal. All she knew was this: Ferelith had an affliction that (according to Kyla) would kill her and could not be remedied through normal means, the middle Scathach sister was responsible either in part or in full, Ferelith apparently knew what needed to be done, and that this involved going somewhere.

Go where. Do or get what. If the middle Scathach sister was on the battlefield today (or perhaps working with the Vampiric Army), then she couldn't possibly be far. It was Heike's assumption that this mysterious sister would have something to do with a remedy for Ferelith. But it was just that: an assumption. Because she did not know, and Ferelith would not say.

Heike actually hated Ferelith in that moment. Briefly and bitterly. Damn her. Damn Ferelith for doing this! For coming into her life and then nearly as soon as they had expressed their heartfelt longings for one another resigning herself to the grave for reasons indiscernible. Here when there was the chance for her to perform her penance for her past crimes. To start anew, reborn through righteous service to a noble cause.

Eberwolf had come as well. Stood quietly until Ferelith had made her decision and then tried to persuade her out of it. A good attempt, but Ferelith seemed set in her obstinance, retreating into the tent after the healer had been dismissed.

And, like a hand curling slowly into a fist, Heike's face twisted into a hard scowl.

She threw open the flap of the tent as if it were a hated foe and pursued Ferelith inside--leaving Eberwolf to discuss the matter with Kyla outside. She marched up to the cot upon which Ferelith lay with her back turned to her after she had rolled over. Heike briefly raised up her hand. Halfway aimed her finger with the Gold Ring on it, intent for a heated moment on delivering the shock the Warden back in Alliria had described. Something to grab--no, command--Ferelith's undivided attention and communicate just how serious she was.

But Heike did not. She stayed her hand from pointing at Ferelith and opted instead on a different approach. One, perhaps, more drastic than the shock from the ring.

Love was not always gentle. Love was not always kind. Such soft--weak--qualities would not inhibit Heike here.

Heike swung her right hand down and slapped the palm of it hard on Ferelith's shoulder. Attempted to roll her over, to force her to look. In Heike's eyes nothing but raw intensity, a deadly seriousness, a steel that was sharp and unbending. Her voice was not loud. Slow and controlled, seemingly devoid of emotion of any form.

"Ferelith. You have a decision to make. Either you explain to me what is the matter and how it is to be remedied...or we are done. I will make my peace before I can be drawn further into grief and I will leave you to die."

Not always gentle.

"I will save you."

Not always kind.

"Or bury you."

Ferelith Scathach Sir Eberwolf Kinniger Crows Call

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

Ferelith was easily rolled back over. The hard push of Heike palm giving her weakened body little choice. Her eyes widened in fear at her loves intensity and hard expression. “Or we are done..”

“W-what? N-no!” She tried to reach for her. “I..” She was cut off as Hieke continued.

“Or I will bury you.” She finally finished. Ferelith looked miserable. Like someone had taken 2 cups of equally deadly poison and told her to choose which to drink.

Finally she sighed. If unsuccessful in touching her the first time this second attempt had much more effort. She needed support for this. She would attempt to pull Heike onto the bed with a groan allowing her to sit on the edge. She moved to slowly place her head on her lap. Her limp blonde hair falling in tangles and split ends, while portions were stuck to her neck by sweat and stuck together in clumps by blood a viscera.

After hopefully getting situated she would quietly sit for a moment enjoying this small peaceful moment of closeness with her love after a battle. There was a small blessing in that. Then she began. “We..We were princesses..” She said calmly. “Our father and mother were the chieftains of our tribe. Kyla was next in line and we..we were happy..Until they came...” Ferelith’s tone and expression darkened.

“They came wanting us. My sisters and I. Our blood line lent us to being more “durable.” As they put it and they wanted a chance to see if they could “expand.” Upon that. They phrased it differently, but my father told them plainly. They would not have any of us. The people left. They said we would regret such action. That night they were slain by a tribe of Orcs we had been warring with. They had new weapons, new armor, my people stood no chance. They came in the night, and left a blazing pile of wood and corpses in the morning. My sisters and I were taken slave then.” The hand gripping Hiekes own would tighten slightly. Ferelith’s eyes gaining the foggy look of a long ago soldier.

“That was when we saw her again. The same woman that spoke to my father before. She came our first night in the cages and took our sister Brynhildr. Then Kyla was to be taken for her first night of...” Ferelith simply couldn’t live that memory anymore she let the words hang in the air before regathering her thoughts.

“We were made the way we were. All of us..Made by them to do two things. Kill and obey.” Ferelith said bitterly. “Even after we escaped they still kept tabs on us once they had been made aware of our existence. She’s..paid us each visits over the years. Seeing if we’ve “progressed.”

As she says. I guess now I have. She commented on my..Situation as a turning point and now she’s given me a little college gift. They used these magic parasites to keep us in line. It’s something they keep at their lab. Only they have the affliction so naturally..only they had the cure. Any runaways that got these either returned with in the week...or the parasite helped mark where they sided for later retrieval...” She finished.

“So I have to return or I’ll die.. and I won’t give them the satisfaction...I can’t...” She looked away. Releasing Heike and holding her face in her own hands as she sat up. “I gave them everything Heike..I won’t give them you as well...” She said finally allowing herself to be taken by her sorrow. Her shoulders shook with sobs as she still battled to hold them in.

 

[Sir Eberwolf Kinniger]

“So I have to return or I’ll die.. and I won’t give them the satisfaction...I can’t...”

“Sounds to me like they are the parasites. So how did you two avoid keeping this parasite when you escaped? And do they have to keep readministering this parasite or do they just suppress it?” He asks, the details being very important.

He would have been horrified if he himself weren’t seeing, and even committing horrors himself, quite often. But he had always done so in the name of justice, and now was no different. He, as in the battle, struggled to control his fury. Pointless cruelty made him angrier than anything else.

His people believed in seven Great Sins, Lust, Greed, Gluttony, Sloth, Envy, Pride and lastly Wrath. His Great Sin had always been Wrath, though it was more prominent in him than in most. His fury had always been his greatest enemy, and it often took control of him, which never ended well for anyone around him. Right now, Wrath had come to him with a vengeance, his eyes almost glowed with hate.

So he was plotting, the idea being that they follow her from a distance then hit them with the dogs and forester troops. Take them alive, and let the Scathach sisters determine their fate.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike sat down on the edge of the cot, allowing for Ferelith's touch and for said seating as well. She was still adamant in her ultimatum, but she was not spiteful--far from it. The extreme of the situation warranted the extreme of her response. Ferelith's life was starkly in peril here, and whatever misconception or delusion or outright fear stayed her tongue needed to be dispelled. Dispelled and the truth be known. Else...else the grave awaited.

Heike kept a firm and unrelenting gaze on Ferelith during that quiet moment. Her eyes intense, even if the rest of her countenance had regained a certain softness, a certain openness. She wanted to hear. She wanted Ferelith to speak.

And so Ferelith did, to some extent.

Heike took it in. Princesses. Her tribe. This mysterious "they" and similarly mysterious "woman" that both went without clarification. The slaughter by the orcs, of which Kyla had previously related after the Monster Hunter Fortress. The--

(Ferelith took Heike's hand, and Heike squeezed as well. Aware and careful as always of her claws.)

--abduction of Brynhildr, the middle sister. An unspoken truth about Kyla. A mention of them being "made" they way they were, this and "progression." The so-called College gift, the magic parasites. A laboratory. And naturally, this mysterious "they" and the abducting woman having the cure for Ferelith's affliction.

Heike thought on this strange and vile ordeal. This...this was why Reikhurstans in general distrusted magic. The King still employed a Court Wizard, yes, any magic was not completely foreign to Reikhurst, but it was this sort of corrupting power that Reikhurstans loathed. Augmented warriors and parasites and this entire mess...the fault of men and women falling to temptation.

Ferelith seemed convinced that these people (Elbion? College associated? It remained unclear.) were beyond consequence. That should Heike go in pursuit of this remedy then it would be tantamount to surrendering herself over to them. To hell with such notions.

Eberwolf had a question, but Heike couldn't give a damn about anything other than the exact details of what was to be done: where did they need to go, what did they need to get, who did they possibly have to fight?

Heike gave Ferelith some time to answer Eberwolf, then she got straight to it.

"Ferelith. Tell us exactly what we must know. Where is this cure stored, and what is it--a potion, a spell, what. Can we bring it back to you, or must you go?"

Perhaps it would be an easier task if this cure was portable, locked away and mayhap guarded in whatever mysterious location Ferelith's tormentors stored it. But if it was some manner of removal process for the parasite, something that Heike could not carry back here to the Duchy, that could pose a problem.

Sir Eberwolf Kinniger Ferelith Scathach Crows Call

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

“I never ran, so I’m not sure how it works I just know run aways were brought back on stretchers looking about like me..” She struggled out. Beads of sweat beginning to form and run down her forehead.

Another fit began to come on as she set her jaw and tried to keep speaking despite the blood and spit random lurches forced from her lips. “She would be long gone now. She..She wants us to meet at..”

“Fourtunas anvil.” Kyla finished for her. The steel eyed red head said it like it carries the weight of said proverbial anvil. “They have an old testing field there. Abandoned now. At least it was last I visited.” She said her eyebrows knitted together as she seemed to be right in the same path as Eberwolf in the plotting department.

The knight was already practically venting wrath from his pores but while he was the raging dog, Kyla was the cunning panther. Each inspired the same level of fear, but one came in an unstoppable force, while Kyla’s was cold a predatory. The kind of wrath shown silently in the dead of night as a blade slid across your throat.

“She never said..” Ferelith began.

The very name of the place causing her back to stiffen as if the memory alone would drag her back to there. Kyla held up her hand. “It’s the only place close enough. Besides...She knows you hate it there.” Kyla finished. Ferelith simply relented with a tight lipped nod.

“The cure is generally given by hand by anyone within a certain level of rank. We would have to kidnap one of them, bring them here, and force them to give it to her. They would do no such thing, and would actively try to find ways to off themselves or encourage us to kill them. A swift death being a mercy compared to what awaits them if they betray who they work for. Trust me.” Kyla said with a deep sigh.

“I spent 6 years of my life after we escaped tracking down what pieces I could. Everyone I caught and squeezed either killed themselves or forced my hand to do the deed myself. Not a single one broke. Not one.” Kyla said darkly.

“Our best chance is to get her after she’s cured. Something that’s almost just as impossible, but more in the realm of realism.” She said finally. Standing to leave. “Either way. I’m off to clean up and eat.” Her tone was calm and her expression was almost warm, but her eyes could kill a man dead a ten paces with sheer intensity.

“Kyla..Dont..” Ferelith tried again only to fall silent once more as her sister turned her back and left.

“You have her. I would only get in the way. I suggest you take these calm hours you have together and bond. I doubt any of us will be returning...” Kyla said plainly seeming to have already come to terms with the difficulty and danger of the mission.

“Except him.” She said gesturing to Eberwolf with a thumb. “Meaning at least there will be someone to bury us thank the gods. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve decided to get very drunk as well. Derka meh laya.” She said finally passing beyond the tent flap.

“Go after her sir Eberwolf? Please..when she drinks it gets ugly often. If she wants to fight someone just point her at a practice dummy and tell her it called her something worse. She usually tires her self out before she realizes it isn’t real.” Ferelith said glancing at Eberwolf with a worried expression.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Fourtunas anvil. Unfamiliar to Heike, but Kyla or Ferelith ought to know how they could get there from the Duchy. The matter of capturing one of these people (Bryn? Presumably?) was of no complex concern--even if both Ferelith and now Kyla seemed intensely pessimistic about their chances. It had to be done. Kyla's past failures in that regard had no bearing on what they could do here, in the present. Heike cared not a lick about what these people (whoever they were) were capable of, nor who it was that they worked for. It had to be done.

There was only one thing left to do in this matter.

Heike stood up from the cot. Ferelith had already called for Eberwolf's attention, but Heike would do so as well. She said, "Sir Eberwolf. May I have a word with you. Outside." Her tone clipped. Her words spoken in the manner of a request yet with no inflection.

And Heike left Ferelith on the cot and passed through the tent flap as well, standing just outside the front of the tent with her arms pensively crossed. Waited to see if Eberwolf would come out.

It would not take long for what Heike had to say and what she had to ask of him. Presumably Kyla could not possibly get drunk enough to foolishly attack the soldiers of the Kinniger Duchy, to throw the errant punch that would get her executed, in this time.

Sir Eberwolf Kinniger Ferelith Scathach Crows Call

 

[Sir Eberwolf Kinniger]

In response to Heike he complied. Though he may be radiating anger, he wasn’t pacing angrily or blatantly angry, but he was angry. So they had to get her after the cure was administered, okay. Sounds like a subterfuge mission as opposed to attacking outright. Or they could go for more efficient forms of “enhanced persuasion”, which he was no stranger to.

He came outside with Heike. “What do you have in mind Heike? I assume you have a plan or at least an idea?”

 

[Heike Eisen]

What do you have in mind Heike? I assume you have a plan or at least an idea?

Heike shook her head. Curt little motions. In the back of her mind she was vaguely aware of the position of the sun, her subconscious taking note of the long shadows of the sun's retreat and the direction in which they stretched across the fortress grounds.

She liked what Eberwolf said. What it implied. But the implication of permission was not enough.

"I have not forgotten my purpose in being here. My word given to you to see this war through and the Vampiric Army destroyed."

She took in a breath that her body did not need, but her mind did.

"With regard to Ferelith, you are our sponsor here. Mine and hers and Kyla's alike. It is ultimately your decision whether this endeavor to procure a remedy for Ferelith serves the war effort. And even if you deem it so, the risk extends beyond our own personal well-being. If something goes wrong, terribly and tragically wrong, it will not reflect well on the Duchy--on you and your father. Ferelith and Kyla are criminals whose service was levied for a specific and narrow purpose...I cannot imagine Alliria or Elbion would see much merit to this endeavor regardless of how swiftly and flawlessly it is executed."

Heike's eyes had drifted down and away during the last sentence she spoke. She flicked them back up to meet Eberwolf's gaze.

"Knowing all this, I am asking for your express permission to go to Fourtunas Anvil, with whatever arrangement of company you see fit: yourself, Kyla, Ferelith, any and all you deem necessary."

Sir Eberwolf Kinniger Ferelith Scathach Crows Call

 

[Sir Eberwolf Kinniger]

"With regard to Ferelith, you are our sponsor here. Mine and hers and Kyla's alike. It is ultimately your decision whether this endeavor to procure a remedy for Ferelith serves the war effort. And even if you deem it so, the risk extends beyond our own personal well-being. If something goes wrong, terribly and tragically wrong, it will not reflect well on the Duchy--on you and your father. Ferelith and Kyla are criminals whose service was levied for a specific and narrow purpose...I cannot imagine Alliria or Elbion would see much merit to this endeavor regardless of how swiftly and flawlessly it is executed."

“It will not reflect well on the family honor, when we allow someone we’ve brought under our banner to die without the absolute best effort we can give to save them. And the fact that this kind of thing is happening so close to our borders, and we haven’t done away with it is nothing short of shameful. We’re going after that remedy, and we’re going after those slavers and scum. If not for Ferelith and her sister, for honor and for justice, this scum will rot in the Pit or be torn asunder by dogs, whichever happens is up to them. But we will go after them, and see the remedy administered to all of the afflicted, no matter how much blood we have to spill to see it done. Ferelith will survive or be avenged, you have my word on this. Sundown is in an hour, meet me in the command tent an hour’s quarter after the sun has been laid to sleep, we’ll speak more on the matter then.”

After this was said he left to find Kyla. She was drinking as she had said she would be, how drunk she was he didn’t know, but he wasted no time in saying. “Kyla, come with me, we have much to discuss. I have an idea about how to force one of them to administer the remedy should that prove our only option, but I can’t have you drunk on the job.”

If she were to resist, his fingers would snap, and her bonds would be united behind her back so that she could be easily brought along. Only after she were calm again would she be released. (This last one is only an If scenario, not guaranteed to happen, only if she decides to resist going with him.)

 

[Crows Call]

Crows Call's vessel stood there in long prattling with the off-duty camp guard outside the wounded tent. They discussed everything from politics to what the fairest of maids like, all the while the Warrior-Poet made sure to keep one arm under the fold of the tent to allow himself to hear the questing conversation of which he now began to loose faith in being end result. This Sir Eberwolf Kinniger had engaged in conversation with the vampiric dame he had assisted in last nights battle, the sound of plates approaching became much more clear making him drop the tent flap. Soon after, they exited, passing by him and the soldier he conversed with and beginning a conversation a new.

The Warrior-Poet, still holding a light conversation listened intently to what the two were saying, from this he learned that the dame's name was Heike, and he heard names of places or organizations unfamiliar to him. As well a lair of the nature of the relationship between the odd one, Kyla, Dame Heike, and Sir Kinniger. As well as one more member of their party that to his knowledge he was yet to meet, Ferelith. In any case, he finally heard from Dame Heike that which he needed to know: the location of the errant quest, Fourtunas Anvil, and the reason for this mission: to save this Ferelith.

Unfortunately he was unable to get any more information as Sir Kinniger ended the conversation saying that he would speak more with Dame Heike at the command tent later. The noble sir then began walking in the direction of the mess hall tent. The warrior-poet decided to follow, as to see what this leader was really like. After all, it was one thing to give a big speech when on the battle stage or in casual conversation, but a mans inner alignment is only revealed in study and time. If the warrior-poet was to fight with these men bearing their kingdoms colors he would like to know the leaders. In order to do this he trailed him ever so inconspicuously, chatting with nearby celebrating soldiers and and camp followers, inviting them to come with him to the mess hall for a round of ale and mead, of which he had received a grand total of three drunken men and a camp follower to revel with, as cover for his trailing of Sir Kinniger.

The warrior poet and his band of drunken revelers entered mess tent in jovial laughter and glorious boastings of their feats on the previous days battle. He watched Sir Kinniger through an occasional side eyed glance that lasted no more than a second, but would betray that he was watching him the Knight was even a little keen. He also noticed the strange one sitting at a table drinking, how drunk was anyone's guess. From here he lead his merry band to the mead barrels and they began to indulge in the intoxicating succor.

The mead filled him and the commandeered senses of his vessel with a nostalgic sense of warmth and satisfaction, the honied drink mixed with juniper left him reveling back to times now forever lost, flashes of torn memories. Most were incomprehensible, but one stayed, a memory of Aquailia, his last of her.

The warrior-poet sat across a table from Aquailia in a cabin, he wore no armor, only his clothes, she wore furs. The fire crackled in the cobble stone hearth, the aroma of stew hung in the air. Mead with juniper in a mug and stew with bits of venison, diced potatoes, and carrots in a wooden bowl in front of him. But they did not eat, they glared at each other in a tense silence. Until Aquailia finally spoke, "Your just going to leave to that battle are you? ...After all the things, you've been through~ we've been through..."

"Sunaris damn you woman! I am warrior of his will, I must join this last push against the Dread Lords!" ,He bitterly spat.

She quickly stood up out of her seat and screamed, "Is that Ishtan pride of yours so strong that you can't see the gods damned folly? You will die..."

In response he shot up and knocked the stew and mead to the wall, and yelled something he would regret for eternity, "Better to die an Ishtan in the service of Sunaris than live shackled to a coward of a Annu Barbarian that I should have slain when I crossed blades with her!"

Aquailia only looked down at the table with her red locks covering her face, obscuring her green eyes that doubtlessly swelled with tears. She Only responded with a cold sentence, "Gather you arms and armor, and go die in that battle."

At this point the memory ended for him, the slapping of his vessels back by one of the soldiers bringing him back to the present, "You all right, pally?" The warrior poet didn't respond for a second before he looked ahead of him, to see that Kyla was sitting a couple tables across from his, hunched over and drinking as Sir Kinniger approached her, and ordered something of her. He then replied, "Yeah, I'm great." Before downing the rest of his mead.

Sir Eberwolf Kinniger Heike Eisen Ferelith Scathach Kyla Scathach

 

[Sir Eberwolf Kinniger]

(Just checking to make sure you haven’t forgotten us!)

 

[Kyla Scathach]

“I’m not leaving until I’ve had my- The hell!?” She thrashed as her bonds suddenly joined at her back. Her leg and wrist Cuffs joining to the other. A look of pure death was permanently etched into her face as he dragged her away.

“You let me go this instant..” She growled warningly as he continued to drag her until they were at the command tent. The entire way she squirmed, bit and cursed at anyone giving her a sideways look.

 

[Sir Eberwolf Kinniger]

“You let me go this instant..”

“No, not until you calm down. Besides I figured you’d put your sister above alcohol, good to understand your priorities.” He says dragging her along. “I have a potential solution for our problem of the cure holders not being able to be forced. I have something that might be a little more ‘persuasive’ than fists and jeers.”

She was dropped on the floor of the command tent and left in her bonds until she decided to calm down. He stood with crossed arms and a hard, unafraid look on his face.

 

[Kyla Scathach]

“Fine.” She groaned after a few more moments of thrashing and straining against the bonds at the knights feet. She looked up into Eberwolfs hard expression.

Her own held the pain of a tired and angry dog.

A far cry from her usually calm and cold demeanor.

“But I’m telling you it’s not possible.” She said finally calming. The battle seemed to have taken a slight toll on her even if she had been hiding it well.

In all honesty while her injuries were healed her body ached in a deep echoing way. She glanced over at Heike.

Her expression instantly hardening as her cheeks burned with the embrasemt of being bound face down in the dirt at their feet.

Her pride seeming to have taken a hit along with her ego seemed to have knocked the fire out of her.

“You can let me go now..” She grumbled under her breath.. “p..please...” She said even lower.

 

[Crows Call]

The warrior-poet continued to drink trying to ignore the tense air of what took place in front of him. Until eventually Kyla had her hands magically bound by the commands of Sir Kinniger, if this had been just another one of the lads causing trouble he would have dismissed it as a simple act of discipline. But this was not just one of the lads to him, this Kyla looked so much like Aquailia that he was beginning to loose the ability to distinguish the two: the difference in future and present: of the person in front of him. He had to summon any and all self control as not to loose it and start swinging, though he stared tensely at the scene;

As his men came and dragged her away, he had to follow, he had to seek Aqua-, he had to seek Kyla. He followed their path, much more haphazardly then he had before. He pushed through some of the crowds and kept his pace just out of the way as best he could, desperately trying not to loose sight. Until he saw them enter the command tent. He stopped, and in a moment of clarity, he chuckled to himself: what in Sunaris's grace was he doing? Such strong emotions from not but a visage, an fraction of a chance that echoes time past? So much so that he was actually considering breaking into the command tent of a field camp of men? Men whos plight was one he could sympathize with? This was foolishness, this was madness, this was lunacy.

He turned to head back to the mess hall, but something prevented him, an emotion? Nostalgia? With out thought he began to head back towards the command tent, the two white plated guards with halberds guarding the way, he came up to one of them, and decided on a clever ploy. "I beseech you sir, I have something rather delicate that is a matter of security..." ,he lied to the guard.

"I really shouldn't leave my post, sir..." ,the guard hesitated.

"It won't be but a moment, I can assure you it is urgent." ,he continued to persuade him.

the guard took a deep sigh before relenting, "Alright, but if this is a waste of time your getting a beat'n."

He thanked the guard profusely and had him follow him, bringing him he directed him to an isolated spot and had him inspect something, when the guard removed his helm... he wrapped his arm around his neck and began to choke him out. The guard thrashed and cursed through short breaths, but eventually went unconscious. The warrior-poet stripped him of his armor, dawned it, bound and gaged the guard, and left him behind a tent. Hopefully he wouldn't remember who nocked him out. He then returned to the command tent entrance, where the other guard stood, and with lowering an octave began his deception,
"Hail brother, what's-his-face finished with that security issue and went on his break, I'll be taking over for 'em."

The other guard looked over him with suspicion, "He... went on break?"

The warrior poet quickly responded, "Ya got 'tatos in your ears? He went on break, now I gotta report in, so..."

The other guard responded agitated, "That fat bastard weaseled outa work again, oh he's get'n reprimanded. Go report to the commander, he'll want to know who is taking over 'is watch."

The warrior-poet didn't tally after he got the go ahead, he went through the tent with a cross between a dignified march and a berserking charge, until he reached the end of the command tent, to see Aqualia, or Kyla, or that of which he was no longer certain: knelt and bound before Sir Kinniger. Pure, unadulterated rage flowed through every fiber of both the Warrior-Poet and his vessel, if kinniger had hurt her, if he had so much as insulted her, he would rend his body and burn him to ash. Even so he had to make sure, had to be aware of this, if for nothing else than the benefit of the doubt. He composed himself, then said in a tone that mimicked that of awkward interjection, "Uh... sir..."

Heike Eisen Sir Eberwolf Kinniger Kyla Scathach

 

[Sir Eberwolf Kinniger]

"Uh... sir..."

“Yes?” He says turning. “Oh, you’re that new addition. Ghost or spirit or whatever you are. You might actually be useful, and if what I’m about to propose goes forward we’ll need as much help as we can get.”

“You can let me go now..” She grumbled under her breath.. “p..please...” She said even lower.

With a twinge of sympathy he snapped his fingers and the bonds were no longer connected. She could now stand. “You say that it can’t be done, I say we only need a more creative solution. I had, about a year ago, had to apprehend a necromancer terrorizing the southern fief. She had the capability to capture and manipulate souls, which I think we can use. I’ll be sending a convoy to retrieve her, in the meantime we’re going to give Ferelith over so that she can last longer. Once we have one of them in custody, we’ll have our friend make him very difficult to kill, at which point we can do a great deal more to him than before, which is far more likely to convince him. Of not, we can have the necromancer puppeteer him. She will be given a deal similar to yours to convince her to help us.

(Referring to Keia Merrenia from this unfinished thread. She’ll be an NPC here.

Private Tales - The Necromancer

Caliane groaned internally as she came to the staircase. For a moment she looked up at the sky and debated just how much she needed the gold from this job before rolling her shoulders and starting down the steps. Without Eberwolf and his key she only had one so if this was the place they would...

chroniclesrp.net

)

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike waited in the command tent. Thinking to herself about Ferelith, about the forces arrayed against her, and about Eberwolf, glad that he had given his express permission and hoping that his optimism would be borne out.

And within the hour Sir Eberwolf came in, dragging a bound Kyla along. Heike watched, hands on her hips and the tips of her claws against her chainmail. It's not possible, Kyla had said. And Heike glowered down at her with manifest disdain. She had never liked Kyla (and certainly the reverse seemed evident to Heike as well) and this did nothing to help in that regard.

But Eberwolf freed her of the magical bonds. The Warrior-Poet had come in as well, with a curious change of armor no less--perhaps it had been authorized by the camp armorer.

And now came a plan.

You say that it can’t be done, I say we only need a more creative solution. I had, about a year ago, had to apprehend a necromancer terrorizing the southern fief. She had the capability to capture and manipulate souls, which I think we can use. I’ll be sending a convoy to retrieve her, in the meantime we’re going to give Ferelith over so that she can last longer. Once we have one of them in custody, we’ll have our friend make him very difficult to kill, at which point we can do a great deal more to him than before, which is far more likely to convince him. Of not, we can have the necromancer puppeteer him. She will be given a deal similar to yours to convince her to help us.

A plan which she immediately took exception to.

Heike bristled. Gave Eberwolf a questioning look. And said, "A necromancer? And what exactly do you mean by, 'give Ferelith over'? Surely not to the damn necromancer."

Heike paused. Face set in wary suspicion.

"I apologize for the uncouth language. But I do not trust wielders of such abhorrent magic. Their minds are so often corrupted by the pursuit of power that they are led to dangerous irrationality. We've no assurance that a deal alone will keep this necromancer in line."

Sir Eberwolf Kinniger Kyla Scathach Crows Call

 

[Sir Eberwolf Kinniger]

Heike bristled. Gave Eberwolf a questioning look. And said, "A necromancer? And what exactly do you mean by, 'give Ferelith over'? Surely not to the damn necromancer."

“No, not to the necromancer, she will have nothing to do with Ferelith. I mean Ferelith meets her middle sister’s conditions and goes back to the place where they meet, to go back to the arena, temporarily, where she’ll receive the cure and remain alive for as long as necessary, once we secure help Fromm one of their own we’ll move on the camp, and potentially set a nasty little trap for their superiors. And after that alert the rest of the world in the form of letters to every authority we can reach. Of course, their fate will be in the hands of their victims.”

"I apologize for the uncouth language. But I do not trust wielders of such abhorrent magic. Their minds are so often corrupted by the pursuit of power that they are led to dangerous irrationality. We've no assurance that a deal alone will keep this necromancer in line."

“We have, thus far, managed to keep these sisters in line haven’t we? Besides, the necromancer will remember the conditions under which I apprehended her, she won’t be much trouble.” He says darkly, his face holding a positively evil smile.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike actually didn't know which was worse: giving Ferelith to the necromancer, or giving her to Bryn the middle sister. That sounded like capitulation to her, and worse it seemed like an awful gamble: what if Ferelith was taken elsewhere once in Bryn's custody? And who knew what Bryn and those people (whoever they truly were other than wretched villains) would do to her if Ferelith were to submit to them. The simple prospect of capturing Bryn or someone who could remove the parasite and attempting to force them to help didn't seem to be much of a tenable plan either (certainly if Kyla's testimony was anything to go by), but to Heike it appeared vastly preferable to meekly giving Ferelith over.

Yet these concerns lost precedence to something else.

The look on Sir Eberwolf's face. His tone.

Heike drew back some, visibly disturbed by what she witnessed. That was absolutely not the sort of thing she would expect from Eberwolf, from any knight who accorded themselves with dignified decorum and with noble intent. It was unbecoming. As if he took obscene pleasure or joy in what he had done.

Which, of course, begged the question.

Heike's brow narrowed slightly with apprehension and disapproval. And she was compelled to ask him, "What did you do, Sir Eberwolf? Just how did you apprehend this necromancer?"

His forthcoming answer--the raw potential of it--worried Heike. It could drastically change everything.

Sir Eberwolf Kinniger Kyla Scathach Crows Call