Challa
Ramblings in a Poitainian Spring
I like Tinabula. Power there, and strength behind the smile and occasional giggliness. Perceptive also.
Why pray here rather than the Temple at Fort Conviction?
I looked about the Chapel in Caenna, its old familiarity, the scent of incense still flavoured with Baione flowers as it was when my mother prepared it, for I follow the same recipe.... Safety here, calmness. A place that has always been. For much as I strive to build Invicta's new home strong, there is a nagging fear that perhaps it will go the way of Fort Invicta
...And Many Miles to Go Before She Sleeps
(Tying off the strings is always an important thing for me for any character I run, not only for the character in question but for those that are affected by her presence or absence. So for those of you that asked'what happened to Challa' ICly..here you are. Some of you may also recognize the titles and political bodies mentioned are derived from Roman political systems. Keep in mind I know it is a very loose application but I wanted to use something more viable than 'Senate' or 'House of Lords' or what have you :))
A Bloodless Victory
They waited.
Some were silent. Some softly preyed to their gods. Some told soft jokes to friends as they checked over their kit, one more time. All were listening for the warning from the sentries, for the barked orders from the NCOs, the quiet commands of the officers. Their garb varied from plate armour to robe, mail shirt to leather jerkin, as did the weaponry; the common thread being the insignia of a golden lion on a blue shield and the look of determination across the assorted visages.
Guards! On patrol in the Wild Lands of Tesso ((OOC Parody))
Wildlands of Zalata, Aquilonia.
On site reporty Harry Greeneck of "the Daily Aquilonian Herald:
*chewing on a new achemical invential called bubble gum*
Challa: Yeah... I've been pwatroling poytain fah a few yeeahs now. Ya really gawta watch yer back heeah. They don cwawl it the wild lands fer nuttin. Whe we get done heeah they ah gunna have ta name it da calm lands though. HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Harry: so may I ask...
Challa: HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA
Harry: Commander...
Challa: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Harry: Suddenly the asuran communicator device comes to life.
CHalla: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Oathbreaker
The four figures stood on the concourse to the inner gate in Fort Invicta. The dark haired Cimmerian glowering at the his red haired kinsman and the blonde Aquilonian, while another Aquilonian, a finely garbed young woman, stood watching with a mixture of hope and concern.
“You two will make peace!”
Unlikely outcomes
*Auorix sends out the carrier bird with the note to the Order of the Blade explaining to instruct the Order and its allies to not attack him on sight upon receipt. He is no longer a member of the King's Guard*
*Fearing the bird would fail at its task, he set out to pass the word to the proper authorities personally*
[Auorix]: I was told I might find you here
[Auorix]: Forgive me for disturbing you
[Amunsol]: Ah yes, Sir Engel.
[Amunsol]: Please, have a seat.
[Auorix]: I had to make sure my note was received
[Auorix]: Thank you
[Amunsol]: Not at all, I was expecting you, actually
[Amunsol]: I am sorry if you are not accustomed to Stygian ways, and may find the seating arrengements difficult at first.
[Auorix]: I have had campaigns in your lands before Lord Blade. I have my old armor on from those days as well since I have lost the plate of the guardsman
[Auorix]: It is appropriate for fighting in these climates
Death of chivalry
A meeting of the officers of the King's Guard in the Armsmen Tavern after the murders last night as witnessed by the staff and patrons.((Sat night))
[Thorious]: Auorix...
[Auorix]: Have I no trust from my own order?
[Auorix]: Forget a moment they were Order of the Blade...what would you say if I told you I defended men from being murdered in the streets?
[Thorious]: Forget that they are order of the blade?
[Thorious]: These are enemies... who are on the attack on sight list by the command of Challa
[Auorix]: Yes, would it be so wrong or uncommon of me to tell you on any given night I defended the innocent?
[Thorious]: By the the command of our king.
[Thorious]: Your saying they are innocent?
[Auorix]: Our King still honors a banner of diplomacy Thorious
[Thorious]: Tell me what happened.
[Auorix]: No, I am not in the least implying they are innocent...I am making a comparrison
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Night Watch
Cold rain slanted down from above, the clouds hidden by night. She stood silently looking out from the ramparts to the storm tossed waters below, watching the moored ships rock and heave on the black, foam crested waters of Old Tarantia’s bay.
WAR comes to Kemena, part 1
An Ending
She left Invicta’s Fort and rode off into the countryside of Poitaine. She was introspective and quiet though she remained aware of her surroundings and scanned the familiar terrain with sapphire eyes. Horse knew his way home and she gave him his head, allowing him to pick his own path.
She had been restless lately and wasn’t certain why. There was a sense something wasn’t right but it had nothing to do with the frequent battles and the campaigns that were part of her daily tasks. If anything the conflicts diverted her and gave her a focus that she welcomed. It was the quiet times that haunted her and she was frustrated at her inability to pinpoint what was wrong.
Kidnapping of Kemena
The following is the account of Brotherhood's actions in their aiding the most dear ally Nox Eternus, as recorded by Mandisa, the priestess of Set.
((took place on Friday night, Sep.26th))
'Halt!'
The cry echoed from the surrounding walls. Two women stopped, finding themselves surrounded. Kemena tried to run for it, but - 'Cobra Stare!'. Her feet rooted to the ground, she swayed around dizzily. Yes, it is hard to resist that gaze..
I snapped out of my reverie when Sontlux shouted the order to get the emblem. Emblem? Everything was happening so fast, I haven't even had a chance to get a good look at it. The path to the boats was clear and we took off. The plan was to take the woman to the island of the dead, Pashtun. No doubt Lord Neverlin had only to snap his fingers and the countless dead would bend their will to his, protecting the captives from any attempt of rescue.
- Mandisa's blog
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A Tale Corrected...
Reverie on a wedding, a battle and a kidnapping
Focus.
*Giggles*
I recall how often Hroth says that to Terri. But it is true.... I should focus on these stitches. Here as I wait for my love to awaken. Sitting and trying to sew the neatest of stitches for a gown I shall wear on that day Relius wishes me to be his Queen. But my talents lie with cooking and baking, distilling and the mystical properties of herbs and roots as they both transform taste and cure or protect.
Ah, protection... I wove a wedding wreath of myrtle for Hroth, with the love of a sister in it. And all the many sweet-smelling flowers in Terri's chaplet were there to enhance the love of that day and protect her.
*The hem drops to her lap as she gazes at the swallows darting beyond the window, up betimes as she is. Falling into reverie*
They needed that protection ...though Aurelius had it all well in hand, as always.
His death, The battle upon the hillside.
He stood quietly in the midst of battle, a calming nature crossing his features, almost too calming for those to stand in the heart of a fight. He stood beside one who controlled lightning as her ally and weapon. He controlling fire as his own. The sounds were loud and resounded through the rolling plains of Aquilonia. Sword to metal, metal to flesh. The clanging and boom of shouts.
Amongst him stood those of King’s Guard and upon their charge was those who called themselves, “The order”. He had stumbled upon them on their way to the fields of Poitain. He was unsure why he stopped, or let alone bothered to help. He did not know the predicament or why they were choosing to fight. However, He knew what The Guard stood for and whom marched in their ranks.
Wulfran Sings For The Guard
((OK this is pretty much OOC because the main emphasis is more on the songs. Wulf went to the Green Man at the invitation of the Guard, and amidst the general singing and dancing, blurted out a song he had composed for the rangers of Invicta but Mikus was there and Wulf ended up singing this for him at Challa's insistence.
Oh once there was a ranger
Who never knew th' danger
O' baitin' wi' a warrior
From th' Lacheish Plains
Th' warrior did fight him
Wi' mighty blows did smite him
An' left him fer th' ravens out
On th' Lacheish Plains
Th' ravens didna want him
An' so they did ignore him
An' left him for th' Picts t' find
On th' Lacheish Plains
Th' Picts they tried t' stew him
But found they couldna chew him
They went t' somewhere else t' dine
On th' Lacheish Plains
'Long came a necromancer
So much for keeping quiet...
Some time alone. That's what she wanted. Somewhere distant, where they would not be known or recognized, and could just enjoy each others company without worrying who would see them, who would see through them and know.
"So where can we go that no one will know us..or you rather, I'm not well known like you are." Argan had asked as they rode through the streets of Tarentia.
"How about...Khemi? We'd just be two outsiders there, unknown and lost in the crowds." Challa replied with a twinkle in her eyes and a grin on her lips as she spurred Horse ahead.
Awakening
There was a battle going on outside the Keep. A flicker of a thought touched her mind and she wondered briefly why she wasn’t out there fighting as well. Something touched her mind, soothing her..and made her stay where she was and she relaxed slightly.
She stood on a tower of the keep and stared out over the farmlands of Poitaine that surrounded Fas. Wait…Fas…what was Fas? She was suddenly confused again and restlessly walked the catwalks, staring out over the walls of the inner bailey looking for the soldiers that were defending as well as some sign of the enemy.
Horse
The riderless horse made his way to the gates as he had many times before. He stood patiently while the Guards took his broken reins and pulled him into the gates of the city, calling out loudly as they recognized the Commander’s mount.
There was a flurry of activity and a stable boy ran up, taking ‘Horse’ by his lead as the guards on duty removed the bloodied saddle and examined the arrow that remained stuck into the thick leather. The implications of the gore flecked tack and the shallow cuts on the pale hide of the big stallion gave cause for alarm.
“Cimmerian craftsmanship by the looks of it and not too well made. Bandits perhaps…” The lieutenant held the arrow, examining it with a measured glance.
Rest for the Weary
She knew her condition worsened, yet she was unconcerned by it. For several days after she returned it had seemed to fade to a minor nuisance- her throat had been sore and she knew the fever had lingered, climbing and falling from hour to hour and passing into the days and nights. The worried glances of her soldiers and the appearance at her door of first one then another of the healers in the unit had only served to drive her back out to patrols where she could be alone.
She threw herself into her work, rarely sleeping, eating less, and drinking more than she ever had before, though she told herself it was because it soothed her throat and chased away the ache in her head. At times it seemed the only way she could sleep and at others she admitted to herself it was only when she drank that she could forget.
Ashes and Flame
No moon was visible in the skies over Poitaine, and the torches and bonfire cast lurid shadows on the stone of the keep and the interior wall that surrounded it. The city beyond was quiet and the woman that watched the flames stood alone.
Her armor was turned to liquid silver by the light of the fire, and her hair molten gold. Yet shadow had come to claim her as well, licking in along the chinks of her armor, and starkly defining the plains and angles of her noble features.
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Duty
Now she was simply tired and sore and sick, and all she wanted was a hot bath and a glass of wine or two at the inn. She couldn’t go back to Fas yet…not yet. Her bed still smelled of him and his clothing and gear were likely still there among her own belongings. She wished somehow she could avoid going back all together and could just forget the last months of her life. It was a brief thought and cowardly. She recognized this, but there it was.
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The Oathbreaker
The rider passed through the gate without a challenge from the sentry, the horse plodding in a tired way, head lowered and its hide covered in mud. Upon the rider too, the mud of a hundred miles clung, cloak slicked to the rump of her mount and heavily armored form sheeting tiny rivers of water that must have long penetrated through to her skin. Her head was bare and sleek from the rain and the skin of her face was a deathly white. The guard recognized the tattered tabard she wore naming her a soldier of the King’s Guard, but the look in her eyes made him step back and consider calling an alarm.
- Guardian1's blog
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A Cimmerian Bride
Memories had come back to her bit by bit as time passed. She remembered the fierce joy of running wild in the fields, spoilt and indulged by her parents. She recalled her father laughingly calling her his ‘little barbarian’ as he would swing her up to his shoulder to ride there safe and secure, her tiny feet dangling and stained green by the grass of the meadow. She remembered being safe and secure, and how she had been so certain nothing could go wrong with her papa to watch over her. She remembered being loved.
So many beautiful images newly revealed to her mind as she grew stronger, yet none of them could compare to the bliss she knew in her recent days. Yet even more intoxicating were the nights…
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Love and Tradition
Sensitive command documents from the King and her superior officers in the High Guard were pushed aside, rolled maps partially unfurled on the ground around her and she stared fiercely at the blank paper.
Though her armor and sword were set aside elsewhere and she was clad in a simple shift, her expression was touched with the resolve and fierceness that an enemy on the field would recognize. And this focus was directed to the simple sheet of parchment before her….
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The Return
It had been a long, bloody day and she had covered more miles and slain more Picts and pirates than she could recollect. From the sandy white beaches of a nearby island to the ruins the feral tribe inhabited inland of Tortage, she felt she had set foot to every possible path and made many of her own twice over. There were so many in the city in need of assistance, though that was fine with her since she needed the coin.
