The Wedding

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Brock Ketchum

As Sirion Prime Minister Ecthelion is ushered out of the feast room with his entourage, the feast room doors suddenly closed down by guards.

Brock's Captain Osric and his men look on in confusion. A lot of murmurs go through all the men from various nobles units standing watch outside the doors.

"What is going on?"

"Why they close the doors?"

"Why Sirion Prime Minister looks so pale?"

Captain Osric realize they will never get an answer so soon, he gathers his men quickly and heads out to the stables. He knows if anything happen, that is the only way he can find his lord.

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Brigdha Dubhaine

An owl-call preceded three shadowy forms dropping softly from the hayloft, hands gripping black bowstaves rising above their heads as Lord Brock and his companions brought their swords to bear.

“It’s alright Brock, this is my grandson Leopold,” she turned to her kinsman, “Are your men in place?”

The young captain issued two trilling calls which were immediately answered by three short piping caws.

“Yes M’Lady.”

“Good. This is Stratarchos Brock, a good friend to myself and to the Republic. And this is Her Royal Highness Catherine, Kronagos of Nivemus.”

Leopald straightened and bowed, his formality strangely at odds with the faded grey of his fatigues.

“No time for formalities, we’re on a tight schedule. There’s been an attempt on Prime Minister Ecthelion’s life and its possible the Queen’s life is also in danger. You’re to accompany Her Royal Highness’s party and clear a path for them. Make sure they reach their destination safely then wait for me at the alternate rendezvous. Watchword Doc’s Folly.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?”

“No, I’ve other business to take care of before we leave the city."

“Then Kris and Hrolf will go with you. They’re both handy lads in a fight,” the two chosen men grinned, sensing a chance for action.

Brigdha turned to Lord Brock, slipping easily into Old Fontanese, “Sirion’s in chaos my friend and tonight’s events will only make things worse. Whether or not Garas was responsible for poisoning the Prime Minister war now seems inevitable. And when the southern powers realise how weak the Republic is they'll march in strength and there’s precious little we can do to stop them without your aid.”

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Brock Ketchum

Walking along the corridors, Nivemus delegations move swiftly. They encounter little resistance, not a surprise considering Baron Robert leads a few Nivemus warriors causing quite a distraction and commotion, drawing many guards to them.

Startled by unexpected show up of shadowy forms, Brock grips his sword tightly. After being reassured by Lady Brigdha, Brock relaxes a little on his grip.

Speaking in Old Fontanese, Brock says to Lady Brigdha "No doubt that tonight events have certainly worsen the situation further. If what I hear is true for nothing is confirmed till everyone declared their intetion, Rhîntaurardh realm did call for southern realms to come. While I hope Garas does not do such action, we need pull back our force for now to avoid escalation of the issue further. Each realm nobles that attend tonight will be suspicious of each other. We have to get to our men soon and regroup."

Two of Brock best men guard Kronagos Catherine tightly, watching from any sign of trouble. One scribe deliver some messages to Brock. Brock eyes widen further as he says "Caligus declared war on Perdan. Vix declared war on Eponllyn."

One of the castle guards hears some noise and opens a left side door and is surprised to see Brock and the rest. Brock wastes no time to knock him unconscious before he raises any alarm. Brock jokes with Kronagos Catherine "Late comer to party."

First best man wearing bandage on his left arm: My lord Brock, what should we do next?

Brock: Regroup with our Captains and the rest of our men. Can one of you go to stable and get us some news? If my Captain is going to find us, that will be the only way.

Second best man nods: I will do it as I am quick and not wounded. *Before he goes, he dresses up as one of the knocked out guard uniform with his dark cloak further beneath the uniform* Now this will be good undercover.

Brock turns his head to Lady Brigdha and speaks further in the old language "Further trouble ahead indeed. Weakening our allies and our lands through wars, that is quite a strategy."

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Gary Ketchum

A scribe runs quickly and delivers messages to Gary. Gary looks surprised as he reads aloud the messages "War coming. Two wars declared within short time."

As another castle door opens, many guards pour forward. Baron Robert orders the trio to move to the other side "Time to go! Go go!" Gary runs as fast as he could even with his twisted ankle.

An owl-like sound is heard. Gary is relieved to hear the sound for this is his Captain signal. Captain Odric and his men have arrived along with other Nivemus men. Seeing they are heavily outnumbered, the guards withdraw hastily away from Baron Robert group.

Out of a sudden a piece of paper is stuck on the ground just beside Baron Robert. A shadow disappears from the castle roof as soon as the paper is thrown. Not noticing the paper, Gary is looking at his Captain and playing a playful fist. "You arrive just in time."

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Garas Gabanus

After having given out all the orders, there was little left for Garas to do. He could not chase anyone himself as he didn't know where they had gone. Also, there was still a threat to his life also despite all the actions going on outside his own person. His own men had therefore gathered around him, to ensure no harm would come to their Lord. Fifty of the best trained soldiers on the continent, both skilled with the bow, throwing knife and the sword, some of the most skilled Special Forces known. Little harm would come to him as they moved with him, but it was certainly a show of force in a situation where others had 1, or even no single soldier with them as they joined the feast, quite logically.

Countess Illyses then spoke to Garas again: "The Kronagos is safe, my Lord. She is with the Stratarchos and Sir Gary, probably the two best swordsmen in Nivemus, if not the continent. No harm will befall her." Garas looked at the Countess, "Never underestimate Margravine Brigdha, she is most skilled in politics and the practises of the shadow. Look at what she did here, her men are difficult to locate and recognize and are skilled in what they do. They do not carry an insigna and can strike from a distance before you are aware that they are even there. I beg of you, find the Kronagos and bring her back to safety. If Brigdha finds them, I do not know what she will try to do. She may kill them, on my soil and try to lay blame with my guards, or she may try to twist her words so that the hides the truth. Either way she will try to bring friction between our nations and stop our wedding. Remember, this women just assasinated her own Prime Minister and will probably lead Sirion herself. All she wants now is to break me and return Sirion her allies. Please find Catherine and protect her with your life. Be carefull countess!"

As hundreds of soldiers were either in the palace or in the streets searching for Brigdha and the Kronagos, Garas walked to his study. There was something else which had to be done. He sat down and commanded his scribe to note down a letter, which he began to dictate:

    "Esteemed rulers of the East Continent,

    I bring you grave news from the city of Oligarch. What should have been a most enjoyable evening to celebrate the upcoming marriage between the Kronagos Catherine of Nivemus and myself, has turned into a nightmare. Some time ago, Margravine Brigdha of Negev has succesfully poisoned Prime Minister Ecthelion of Sirion. Where her attempts on myself have failed, she managed to sneak out of the room before the Prime Minister fell to the ground. Witnesses have seen the Margravine attempting to stir up the population and spread flyers throughout Sirion, celebrating the execution of Celine and threathening that I be next. Later, she was seen talking to the man responsible for poisoning the Prime Minister. I have failed in my duty to protect all my guests and for this there is only shame and outrage, but every last man in Oligarch is out there finding the devil priestess.

    For now, it seems that Prime Minister Ecthelion still lives, thank the gods, and we can only pray that the Margravine does not succeed in killing him.

    No doubt, she will run again for the position of Prime Minister of Sirion as she has tried several times before, but always lost to Prime Minister Ecthelion and no doubt she will try to blame myself, therefore giving her both her desired position of power and a 'reason' to convince all of Sirion to war my realm. It is a most grave day, let us hope it does not get worse. Several of my guards lie dead and it is clear she has planned this assasination very well and brought with her a team of skilled shadow warriors. I know that Sirion as a realm is above such monstrous crimes and will not hold the realm as a whole responsible for the actions of the Margravine.

    For now this is all I know, but I felt I had to inform the world of what transpired here today.

    Signed, Garas Gabanus Prime Minister, Commander of Duchies of Southern Sirion Royal of Duchies of Southern Sirion Duke of Primus Margrave of Oligarch"

As he finished dictating the letter, several messengers had rallied in the study. "Bring these letters to all the rulers on the continent, now!" he said. Then he turned around again, "A letter must be delivered to all Sirion contacts also. Write another one, as follows..."

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Kristina Chamberlain

She walked unmolested from her sisters rooms. The stale metallic scent of blood and carrion worsening as the time passed. Prince Wulfric pawed at his aunt's face. She looked on impassively, her pallor stark against the blood drying on her face and neck.

She stopped briefly before Gara's retinue and with the move of a soot blackened hand the men were moved to one side. Garas himself stood exposed before her.

"Countess Kristina. .. my sister..." He began.

She laughed, a low sound that echoed in the minds of the listeners like a river falling over the side of a cliff. When she spoke it was with a cacophony of voices, old and young, the tongues of a hundred languages both living and dead. It should have been unintelligible, but instead it spoke directly to the souls of all listeners. "Not yet Garas. " She handed the princeling to his soon to be step father. "You must take better care of our family ." Kristina swayed a little and Garas noted the trail of blood seeping from her gown. He opened his mouth to summon help but was stopped by the single out stretched finger of the priestess. "The Maunts will see the vessel to the arbor of Bruck, we shall see what can be done in the shade of the trees. This is where our paths separate. You must see the infant to Catherine."

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Catherine Chamberlain

The nobility had convened as arranged filling Catherine with a growing sense of dread. She took Lord Robert to one side.

"You did send my sister for Wulfric?" She asked anxiously. His affirmation saw her checking with all of the present nobility again as to what had become of her sister.

She had expected to see her sisters forbidding radiance when she arrived, as one of the first to leave the feast her absence was now a source of concern for all who had since arrived. Her worry for her son was a tangible cloud over the collection of nobles. Each time she welcomed another she found herself looking behind to see if he infant was there also

As the hours passed she turned to Brigdha, "Do your whisperers say nothing of my son?"

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Brigdha Dubhaine

Brigdha should already be on her way to the safe-house by then, but for some strange reason she found herself lingering - and as a priestess she knew enough of the workings of Fate to never take such feelings at face value. She placed her hand on the Queen’s the way a kindly aunt my soothe a concerned mother, but there was more to the gesture than kindness. Queen Catherine provided a handy anchor amidst the chaos engulfing Oligarch that night, allowing Brigdha to project herself into the High Firmament in search of answers.

Mind bubbling like gall and quicksilver in the alchemist’s fire, Brigdha caught many strange echoes and reflections of the night’s drama. A rich, turbulent sensorium. The Flow was barely navigable in this state - even for an experienced Balancewalker - and it took her adept’s eyes a timeless period to adjust. Without the anchor of a mother’s overpowering concern her task would be futile in these conditions, but there - emanating from Catherine’s heart - were the slender lines of sympathy which bound her to her champions, to the knights in her service, to distant Ashforth and the horse clans. And brighter than all these ran three intertwined cords, pulsing red and discordant as the shades of other strands about them withered into the storm.

The mixed loyalties and stench of death put Brigdha on her guard. She must move with speed and surety if she were to conclude her mission. A dreadful nausea grasped the priestess as she stepped onto that tenuous lifeline, pacing along it through a supreme effort of will. The raging storm battered her with discarded husks of consciousness as the preying malevolence behind it sought to spin her into the psychic maelstrom. She’d had never experienced anything of this intensity, not even when the ice marched across the southern plains consuming all in its path.

She paused for a moment, standing buffeted by the tempest, and studied the traceries of possibility binding the great city of Oligarch and all within it. She was rewarded with a brief glimpse of the Prime Minister, his Elven song a tragic refrain as the poison worked to claim him, but then the vision was obscured. Despite their many clashes on the floor of the Heru Mellen, the death of Ecthelion would be a bitter pill to swallow.

“The future’s not my concern,” she focused once more on the pulsing strands beneath her and continued steadily towards her goal. As she drew nearer she could make out a looming presence, not consciously aware of the landscape they both inhabited but clearly powerful enough to touch the High Firmament and draw upon its power. About the shape a flock of birdlike forms, powers native to this higher reality feeding off its detritus. This must clearly be a seer or powerful sorcerer. Not just a dabbler in mysteries but an adept of deeper rituals and ancient pacts. There were few on this continent who had that kind of power even amongst the Elven folk, but this was clearly no Elf. A woman perhaps? She emanated the scent of dappled sunshine and deep roots.

A priestess of Ora? There was little love lost between the daughters of Ora and the Balancewalkers, between faith and reason. However the Queen was known to have a sister amongst the priesthood so that made sense.

As Brigdha drew closer she could make out two other forms in the seer’s shadow. One so small it barely registered - a child perhaps? It seemed content and in good health, it’s song simple and sweet. This must be the son Catherine had mentioned. Touching him Brigdha channeled his song back to his mother, and with it the surety that he was well. Though whether he was also safe remained uncertain even with his aunt so close.

The other presence was less a form than it was a constrained absence, a raw and bloody scar where its owner should have stood. At some point he must have been powerful with many thousands dependent on his will and even now a web of blackened strands ran from the scar far and wide. Brigdha shuddered to think of what kind of event could thus pluck a man from the Flow, or how to do so would affect his mind.

“No time to consider that now though,” she daren’t linger longer for fear that the seer would detect her and unwittingly alert her guardians to Brigdha’s presence.

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Brigdha Dubhaine

“Your Royal Highness, I must go now ere dawn be upon us and a most pressing mission fail. What I can tell you is that your son is physically safe for the time being. Do not tarry - and send guards to secure his wellbeing as soon as you reach safety!” Brigdha let go of the Queen’s arm and was gone with the same lack of ceremony with which she arrived, as were her two companions. Only Leopold remained.

“I’d better scout ahead and make sure the route’s clear,” he said somewhat sheepishly, clearly feeling out of place, “assuming we’re ready to leave?”

*   *   *

By the time Brigdha’s party reached the temple precincts the Duke’s guards weren’t far behind, the slap of leather and the clatter of steel wargear echoing through the otherwise silent streets as the false dawn warmed the rooftops.

“Are you sure this is wise Ma’am? We’re lucky if we have 5 minutes’ lead on them,” Hrolf eyed the main thoroughfare warily.

“I made a promise to Meristenzio when he built the temple,” she replied without elaborating further, one more secret in a lifetime of secrets.

They broke cover from the alleyway, crossing into Darton Plaza at a crouching lope. From there it was a swift sprint past the temple gates to a smaller postern in the adjacent wall and from there into the compound. Hrolf barred the heavy wooden door whilst Kris and Brigdha continued on into the inner courtyard and thence to the treasury antechamber.

Hewel the Temple Guardian joined them a few minutes later, hurriedly fastening his robes and accompanied by three equally flustered, dishevelled monks.

“What’s all this commotio… oh, forgive me Your Serenity I didn’t realise it was you,” he bowed abruptly, gesturing frantically to his companions until they followed suit.

“No time for formalities Hewel, I need access to the treasury before the Duke’s guards arrive,” she pointed to the keys on his belt, accepting them as they were unhooked.

“This is most irregular Ma’am,” he watched as she deftly turned them in the lock and with a strength belying her age pushed the heavy metal doors aside to reveal a pitch-black spiral staircase, descending deep into the earth beneath.

Kris drew a small hooded lantern from his forage bag and lit it from a nearby brazier as Hrolf burst into the room, accompanied by two more of Brigdha’s agents.

“The Duke’s guards are entering the plaza,” Hrolf cast his hood back revealing a face no more than perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four years old, “so we’d best be quick Ma’am.”

“Down the stairs then lads and secure the vault, I’ll bar the door behind us,” she tossed the keys to Hewel, “Don’t worry about letting the Duke’s men follow us, by the time they reach the vault we’ll be long gone.”

Brigdha ducked through the doors as they slid shut, the automated locking mechanism engaging with a resounding thunk. Hands long used to the darkness deftly flitted over the neighbouring stone wall, settling on a concealed pressure point, and with a gentle sigh a secondary locking mechanism engaged lowering a dozen steel rods to block the passageway.

“That should keep Garas’s goons busy,” she thought as she sped down the staircase.

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Garas Gabanus

As Garas saw the priestess, he was uncertain what had transpired. Kristina however always had a strange aura over her and when she handed over the boy to Garas, he had already forgotten about the blood and let the priestess go. "Wulfric" he mumbled, "where on earth is your mother boy?" he asked full well knowing the boy could not speak, let alone provide him with an answer. "You will stay with me little one, nobody will harm you," he said in a relative soft voice.

At that moment Gawin, Garas' captain returned from the city. "My lord, police actions are performed throughout the city, focused on those areas closests to the palace first. Lord's Ubin and Brice are sweeping the streets and homes together with your guards, supported by your servants in the city itself. At this moment the prisoners are still to be transported, but I've heard counting of 100 individuals at least who have supported the devil priestess, or are loyal to her." Gawin said. Garas looked at him and nodded approvingly, "Good, any sight of Brigdha already?" was the only thing he asked.

Gawin looked down to the floor, "My lord, some of our men were close and were chasing her. Some of them were found unconcious, but alive. According to one of them, they were very close to the devil priestess when he saw the figure of Stratarchos Brock. He was unable to inform me of more as he was knocked out right after this. I'm afraid she either has them captured, or is very close to them to strike when..." but before Gawin could finish Garas interrupted him. "Gawin, no excuses, this is unacceptable. Send a full betallion in that direction, lead them yourself! Take 20 of our special forces with you also, you will need specialists against her. Take the horses from the stables and hurry!" Garas paused for a moment and finished "And what about the temple?" Gawin looked at his master, "I will lead them myself Sir, 30 men were dispatched to the temple per your orders my lord. No sacking, but the detainment of all present at the location, until it is clear they are not part of the conspiracy." Garas nodded approvingly again, "Good, now go!"

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Catherine Chamberlain

Each of the temples of Ora were served by the Maunts, the three senior members of each temple were the Mother, the Elder Mother and the Young Mother. . It was the Young Mother of Bruck who stood chagrined and breathless before the collected nobility of Nivemus. The Maunt had been one of the 5 to join Kristina on the trip to Oligarch.

Catherine looked up at the girl feeling the unshed tears trying to overwhelm her eyes. She was a Queen of Nivemus, she could not crumble before her men.

Catherine noted with dismay the streaks and stains of blood on the woman's white robes.She fell to her knees before the woman, an act of desperation and supplication.

"What news do you have Mother" She begged.

The girl who was no more than 12 took the Kronagos by the hands. "The Oracle bade me to take you to your son." She smiled taking the Queen's face in her hands. "It is the blessed new moon in the third arc tonight. A good time to be married."

Catherine came to her feet dumbly. Turning to Brock she asked him to take the host of Nivemus home. The grand affair had turned to sour disaster. A wedding required but 2 people. She allowed the girl to lead her by the hand.

They had walked scant minutes before meeting one of Garas patrols. The Young Mother of Bruck had drawn their attention first, one of the more zealous guards reaching her hood from behind and decrying the fact that she was 'too young'.

"You would be wise to step back from her soldier,"Catherine intoned. "Nivemus would not look well on a Young Mother being molested." She drew back her own hood revealing the yet braided hair adorned by the Oran Diadem

"Your majesty?" He dropped to one knee. "The Prime Minister bade us find you.."

"I can see that." She remarked looking meaningfully at the young Maunt. "I would see Garas if you would escort me."

His chest puffing with pride he ordered his group to form two columns around the Queen of Nivemus.

A sussurus of her name spread along the streets and soon they were lined with the citizens of the city watching the progress of the Queen in her green roughspun gown. As they proceeded more of Garas troops quietly joined the progress until she was flanked by over 100 men. The Young Mother of Bruck walked before them collecting the flowers being dropped by the common folk in the Queen's wake.

Eventually she was joined by Garas little scribe. He bowed briefly taking extra half steps as he spoke to her.

"It is good to see you well. You are well your majesty?"

"I am quite well. And Garas?" She asked.

"He is well, only anxious for your safety. He has Pri. .." gain began.

Her eyes began to betray her again. "Do not speak his name... Please I beg you... I. must remain a Queen until I can close a door to be a mother again." She clenched her jaw, forcing a brittle smile for the common folk.

Gawin had no clue what else to say so lapsed into silence. They reached Garas headquarters in the same formal silence. Gawin threw open the door announcing "Catherine of Nivemus! "

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Ecthelion Tezokian

Dark Ascension

The circle of healers that have followed the Sirion leader around for many years now is beyond desperate. Every variation of counter-agent had been tried multiple times and failed. The most advanced medical techniques known to man or elf were all spent without success. Using the archaic and ancient arts had no effect either. Time was against them, as the ancient elf had already passed from this world hours before. On a table beside the bed he rest in was, true to his word, a declaration of war on Garas's rebellion he said would happen if he had come to harm, signed in one of the few glimmers of hope, but passed shortly after. No one had taken it to be delivered, all efforts focused on saving his life, which had since turned to revival... which had since turned to hopelessness.

Suddenly the door burst open, with a hooded figure entering the room. A voice rang out from under the hood, "You've all failed in your task. It now falls to me to correct your failings. Leave us!"

No one moved... for some time... but knowing that there was no option they had not attempted, they all solemnly left one by one... leaving the body of the Prime Minister alone with the stranger.

The hooded figure dropped a bag to the floor next to the bed, opening it and beginning to empty it's contents. Several dark vials began to populate a nearby table, pitch black, but with swirls of light occasionally appearing and disappearing nearly immediately. A full body-suit was draped over the end of the bed, made of a black material as well, laced together with threads of silver. It would cover anyone who wore it from toe to neck. A pair of gloves matching the suit were dropped on top of it. A white helmet of exotic design (samurai-like) was dropped to the floor with a loud thud. A cloth sheltering many needles was laid to rest next to the vials. Some other devices exited the bag, but one last item emerged... a full-face mask depicting the seldom-to-never used moniker that was bestowed upon the Prime Minister by his ancient brethren... a mask shaped into the form of a dragon head, clad in white, accented in black detailing. Finally, the hooded figure drew a book from beneath the long cloak, appearing more to be an ancient tome of unknown markings and design. The figure opened it to a page and began preparations.

Hours passed without a sound. The healers were taken over by grief, unable to do anything. Ecthelion's guards were somber, feeling they had failed in their duties. None had bothered to converse about what they knew of the hooded figure that had entered previous. They had failed their leader, their realm would see them all cast out without Ecthelion's stabilizing voice being there to prevent it. More was lost this day than was realized by anyone assembled there.

The door eventually swung open with destructive force. It scared everyone standing there, and they all froze upon looking. Before them, a figure covered from head to toe, wearing a mask and helmet none had ever seen before, wearing one thing that stood out as familiar... Ecthelion's semi-armored, long, black riding boots. The only thing proving an individual existed under the outfit was the ever slightest, dark-tinted skin surrounding bright, red-filled eyes with black pupils visible from the open eye sockets of the mask. While the world froze for everyone else, the figure approached a horse waiting nearby, grabbing a sword in it's scabbard that appeared attached to it more ceremoniously than for utility. He drew the sword an inch to verify, and returned it quickly, raising it over his head and behind his back, and astutely tying it there securely.

"Dawnbreaker and I depart for the east. Join me if you desire atonement for your failure," an emotionless, metallic-sounding voice rang out from beneath the dragon mask and helmet. The figure before them mounted Ecthelion's horse, and instructed it to depart at great speed. Minutes seem to pass before anyone there was able to gather their belongings, much less themselves and followed suit. As the Death Riders taxed their horses trying to catch the one that had left before them, and an entourage much farther behind them... the only thing left behind was a a hooded figure... tossed lackadaisically into a corner of the room that had been Ecthelion's deathbed hours prior... the clear imprint of a gripped palm that had throttled around it's throat, bore by a corpse that lacked any trace of blood... a sacrifice that would lead Sirion to victory over it's enemies... or fulfill a dark prophecy long thought an obscure folktale.

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Garas Gabanus

Garas was pacing around in his study. He had been unable to sit still during the most recent events. Brigdha who was spotted near Brock, Brock who was defending Catherine and then the matter of Ecthelion. What on earth had happened, how could this go so horribly wrong, he thought. He walked over to the boy who had been placed in his study, so he was certain he'd be safe. Just as he reached the crib, the doors swung open and his captain announced "Catherine of Nivemus". Garas could not believe his eyes. "Everyone out" he said before Catherine entered the room and everyone quickly left as the Kronagos entered. "I thought I would never see you again. I am so pleased you are safe," he said as Catherine entered. Gawin tried to explain what had happened, but Garas did not even look at him and said: "Find me that devil priestess who did all this, go!" and Gawin was gone, knowing full well he was not to utter another word.

"I was so worried she had gotten to you, as she got to him. Come here my love, you scared me," Garas said as Catherine had almost reached Garas and the crib.

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Catherine Chamberlain

She saw him standing in the glade before the Young Mother of Bruck. The small area of grass was one of the few within the walls of Oligarch, and in itself was a pretty diversion from the grey walls of the keep and its surrounding buildings. There were hints it had once been an orchard, gnarled now fruitless trees were a sporadic and menacing marker in the half-light, but the bows looked like they had borne no fruit for many a year.

He wore the finders greens as was tradition in the Ora'n ceremonies, looking like an impeccably dressed keeper of he arbors, beneath the soft fabric he was taught muscle, tense and unyielding. She approached in the plain white shift that had been planned originally, her hair loosely braided with the blossoms of the white trees of Bruck and a circlet of the flowers around her head where the diadem usually lay. Reaching him she placed her hand on his arm and saw the breath leave him as he felt the relief that she was finally there. It was then she knew that her heart would never leave his, and her spirit would always be at his side, even if her body was in Ashforth or Pucallpa, or any such place that all seemed so far from her right now.

This joining had been bought with the blood of her two bodyguards, the Elder Maunt and the Lady only knew what more had gone or would be to come, yet for her this moment was as it should be, where it should be. The Maunt began: "We have come together here in celebration of the joining together of Catherine and Garas. Others would ask, at this time, who gives the bride in marriage, but, I ask simply if she comes of her own will. Catherine, is it true that you come of your own free will and accord?"

Looking at Garas with the briefest of smiles she replied "Yes, it is true."

The third arc was reaching it's zenith and the Young Mother began to chant the ancient elvish that all but the Mothers of the Church had forgotten. The sing song words and phrasing seemed powerful and mythic in their srangeness. As she finished the glade was bathed in a white light that reduced all of them to ghosts, the symbolic joining of the spirits.

The Maunt, standing on a large white stone, looked down on them, smiling: "Please join hands. As your hands are joined, so your lives, Holding each other, Caressing each other, Supporting each other, Loving each other." She wrapped both of their hands in a single length of white ribbon. All traces of the youth of the girl had gone as she lapsed into the ceremonial blessings, as with all the Mothers' Catherine could see she was chosen.

Garas tuned to her taking her free hand in his own: "I, Garas, promise you, Catherine, that I will be your husband, from this day forward. To love and respect you. To support and to hold you. To make you laugh and to be there when you cry. To softly kiss you when you are hurting, and to be your companion and your friend. On this journey that we will now make together." To her suprise her eyes brimmed with tears, often she had seen the joining, but she realised she had never tuly expected it fr herself. She breathed deeply forcing back the tears.

"I, Catherine, promise you, Garas, that I will be your wife, from this day forward. To love and respect you. To support and to hold you. To make you laugh and to be there when you cry. To softly kiss you when you are hurting, and to be your companion and your friend. On this journey that we will now make together."

The Maunt untied their hands and from the folds of her robe she produced two simple bands of white gold, "Catherine and Garas, as these circles are designed without an ending, they speak of eternity. May the incorruptible substance of these rings represent a love glowing with increasing lustre through the years. Ora blesses these rings which you give to each other as the sign of your love, trust, and faithfulness."

Garas hands shook as he placed the ring on her finger: "Take this ring as a sign of my love, and as a symbol of all that we share, in token and pledge, of my constant faith and abiding love."

Catherine took his hand and slid the ring onto his finger: "Take this ring as a sign of my love, and as a symbol of all that we share, in token and pledge, of my constant faith and abiding love."

The Young Mother untied the ribbon and held it aloft for those present to see: "They are now bound together, in Ora's sight and third moon's light, let none try to break this bond."

And so it was done...

[Chamberlain]

Roleplay from Brigdha Dubhaine

With the entry to the treasury vault secured Brigdha was at last able to take stock of the situation. Since she first entered the rebellious Southern Duchies a little over a week ago her every move had been countered by an unknown actor, it’s power over the minds of men all too infuriatingly apparent and yet at the same time its character entirely alien. As a balancewalker she was used to seeing what others were blind to and her words had at least some influence on all which dwelt in the Flow, so the growing realisation that current events were in the hands of an entirely ineffable power left her keen, subtle intellect groping for a means to counter it as she descended into the darkness.

The various minor nobility with whom she’d dined refused to recognise that the Southern Duchies had even seceded from the Republic, the delusion a thick fog clouding their judgement. And the townsfolk were little better - even those who were schooled in the ways of the Flow. Putting down this rebellion could prove troublesome indeed if the rebels refused to accept they’d rebelled in the first place, and with so many in Sirion calling for harsh retribution a bloodbath seemed inevitable.

And that realisation turned her thoughts to tonight’s treachery. It was far from clear who had poisoned Prime Minister Ecthelion but coming so soon after the ambushing of Lord Speaker Zadek there were only two sustainable conclusions.

The most obvious was that Garas himself was behind the assassination attempt, but she found that hard to believe. To her eyes he’d always been something of a boorish career soldier, the kind who rises to command because of his obedience, not his initiative. Even his rebellion seemed strangely out of character, though power often seemed to lead to ambition. Still, poison? And at his own wedding? That’d be a huge risk to take and regardless of outcome could only result in war… In any event whatever had ripped him from the Factum seemed more an attempt to sever his transfluence and leave him impotent in the coming events than the outcome of his own ambitions. No, for all she disliked the man this wouldn’t be how Garas would further his ends.

Nor for that matter did it seem likely that King Garin would pick a fight with either Garas or Sirion when his own realm were already embattled in the south.

Perhaps someone from the Nivemus delegation then? She hadn’t sensed any deceit in Kronagos Catherine and was willing to rule her out, whilst Stratarchos Brock was a very good family friend, a warrior she’d stood beside in the battle line before the fall of Fontan. What then of the priestess? The spirits of Ora clustered about her, feeding on the chaos she left in her wake. There was a co-dependency between the Askewances and these creatures of the High Firmament which sickened Brigdha, the corruption of the Awakening Lilith being the basis of many a dark communion run out of control.

However the more she tried to think of the priestess, the more her attention was drawn back to Garas. Well, not so much to Garas as to the withered grey threads which had connected him to the Factum. There was something about these tendrils and the way they’d been severed which stirred her memory. But what was it?

By now she’d reached the inner vault, absent-mindedly sealing another set of barred doors as she passed through. The architect who designed the temple labyrinth had bridled at such extreme precautions but given what would rest within it seemed only wise to be cautious. Looking up she realised that Kris and his companions had already secured the package and were busy packing the temple gold into porters packs. If war was coming then Garas would find precious little here to fund it. Still, it was the artefact which really mattered, sealed in its case as Meristenzio had insisted when he’d placed it here for safe keeping.

The memory of that private meeting was vivid, the precursor to the consecration ceremony for the newly rebuilt temple. His manservant carried a wooden case, almost three cubits long and half a cubit wide.

“I cannot say how this came into my possession,” the Duke’s tone had been unusually reticent, “nor can I say why I’m placing it in your care or what’s contained within. My predecessor made me swear an oath that I should never open the case and now I ask the same of you. What I can say is that it’s most likely a sword based on size and that it came with a line of doggerel passed from keeper to keeper: ‘whilst the dragon slumbers so do I, a curse from Elven youth, but when the dragon rises in ecstasy, I’ll be that serpent’s proof’. What this means I cannot say for sure, but I believe it’s related to certain prophecies from the earliest days of the Empire.”

“It looks like we’re ready to move out Ma’am,” Hrolf now stood by a secret door leading into a rough-hewn stone tunnel, the very same case strapped to his back with long leather laces. Kris and the others shouldered their packs and adjusted their loads until they were comfortable. From here they’d be force marching through the ruined tunnels of the ancient orc-hold upon which Oligarch was built and thence by secret ways finally beyond the city walls.

“Lead on,” Brighda took one last look around the vault, wondering if this would be the last time she saw it. As they left she sealed the door, smashing a time-glass to trigger the mechanism which would collapse the tunnel behind them. When the cave-in had run its course there’d be 100 feet of stone permanently blocking the passageway.

After half an hour they were making good progress and Brigdha reckoned they’d be beyond the city walls come breakfast time. Her only regret was being unable to solve the riddle of the prime minister’s poisoner. Unless of course... but why would he poison himself? She tried to put the thought out of her mind but it kept nagging at her, and as it did she saw the faint green flicker of his waning life. A poison too weak to kill but likewise too strong to resist. A poison of the Facies.

After a few minutes she’d become sufficiently accustomed to this that when the flickering changed to a strong, continuous, blood-red pulsing the shock of it nearly floored her.

Somehow she managed to stay on her feet as a shockwave of nausea flowed over her in its wake, the residue of dark and dangerous magics. Magics requiring incredible power and no small measure of insanity. Manipulations of the Flow which no mortal mind should contemplate. And then she realised where she’d sensed this same presence before, the malevolence of a certain cellar in the accursed home of Jon Paul Ogren. Could it truly be that the dragon was awakening? If so the north must be prepared!