|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 12:59 pm
[1] page 6 navigation
[2] obligations, tribulations [MRP]
[3] be still [ORP]
[4] justice [PRP]
[5] judgement [MRP]
[6] ashcroft [PRP]
[7] a gift [PRP]
[8] a warm departure [PRP]
[9] ere the falcon flies [PRP]
[10] on the road [PRP]
[11] colwe [PRP]
[12] take flight [PRP]
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 18, 2011 2:32 pm
[2] obligations, tribulations
Who: Yizhaq, Hayat, Plague General Treatise
When: Afternoon
Where: Pwlanarfyll, Mishkan, at the Imperial Guard's capital base.
Why: A Meeting of Minds
]http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=21813053
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Apr 24, 2011 1:03 am
[2] be still
Who: Grimms, Guardsmen, Councilmen, Council Mages
When: Morning
Where: A neutralized zone in Helios, in a place otherwise unknown.
Why: Grimms are called upon by the Council of Sciences to a meeting.
]http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=22360763
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jul 10, 2011 11:56 am
[4] justice
"Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable... Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals."
Lady Hayat's mage had indeed come to the Plague General first, intent on taking the Excito to her respected sire. Instead, with the Servos in hand, the brunette gripped the mage's hand tightly, glared firmly at her, and muttered, "Take me whence they came."
The mage obliged.
Unlike most of the Grimms and Plagues, Treatise's endurance was enough to withstand the drowsiness that came of the teleportation spell, and so was able to stand upright and deathly still when the Mage had let her go. She stood standing at the less than eager woman before her, whose grey eyes looked past her and moved quickly away. The Shield followed her with only a gaze until she blinked away, teleporting back to Helios to receive the green-eyed Lord.
The brunette's expression softened upon looking to Hayat, who had, fortunately, not departed from her palm after their teleportation there. Treatise gingerly connected her palm to her shoulder.
"Lord Yizhaq shall be with us soon, Milady. I will remain with you until my men are retrieved."
The mage, designated to return her to Lord Yizhaq, whom Hayat could see as he pushed his way through the crowds toward the stage, was denied the completion of her task by a steely eyed Plague General.
The Lady felt a surge of alarm rush her small frame like cold air, though it was of note that the emotion was born not of fear for herself, but for her Lord. The trip was not so gentle to the Gryfalcon, who felt her concern slipping away into a forced darkness.
When the fog cleared, Hayat found herself made stable by the soft touch of Treatise. Her frown was her only sign of discomfort. "I thank you, Plague General." But why? Had separating them been necessary? Perhaps it had been only for her protection, but Hayat had the idea that there was more to the matter. A meeting, perhaps?
"This day has been troubling," she ventured.
Treatise sighed, frowning gently. "Troubling, indeed. Perhaps I have lent my distrust too easily to the Mage that had teleported us here, but I could not risk another foul trick on us this morning," she paused, "The three-person teleportation must have been... tricky. I hope the woman returns here conscious."
At Treatise's last syllable, the mage and Lord in mind whisked before them, though it was difficult to see them through a strangely hazy musk surrounding them. The Locos waded through it to find Yizhaq, coughing and covering her mouth-- she grieved her current form now, at least, for her problems did not effect the noseless lady Hayat at the least. When the Plague General was finally able to wave away the smog, though, the now-pale mage woman fell where she stood.
Keeping in mind the Servos on her shoulder, the Plague General was unable to go over to the mage quickly enough to save her from plundering back-first to the hard floor. Grimacing, Treatise crouched down and raised the mage up between her arms nevertheless. Upon standing up again, she bowed her head gingerly at Lord Yizhaq. She did not look amused.
"Lord Yizhaq," she greeted.
Lord Yizhaq, gentleman that he was, was a bit dismayed that he wasn't in any condition to be catching damsels as they fainted, and mustered little more than a rousing cough an outstretched palm from where he bent at the waist, the opposite hand firmly gripping his knee . Though he was more experienced with teleportation than most, this particular form was designed to be... More disorienting than that he was used to, from traveling for the Fellowship. Regardless, it was one of his least favored methods of commute.
Transferring his throat clearing to the crook of his elbow, the lord blinked away moisture as his watery eyes met those of the the anhelo before him. "Plague General." He straightened then, as he caught sight of Hayat, unable to stop himself from stepping forward as the guardsman lifted the mage to reach out and capture his charge from her shoulder. "Hayat." He restrained himself from cradling her in his cupped palms, out of both good manners and respect for her stilted dignity, to instead look her over for any perceived slights.
Of course, she was in far better condition than he. Satisfied, for the time being, he turned his gaze back to Treatise and the mage. The latter of whom would recover, he was certain. "Forgive me, but my social grace is nearing its limits, and though I thank you for the care you have shown the Lady Hayat, I am also certain that there is something you desire in kind. If it isn't too much trouble, I would ask that we address such a thing quickly, that I may have a strong drink."
Treatise watched as Lady Hayat left her shoulder with a faint grimace, though her expression was easily replaced with that of certain worry when Lord Yizhaq looked so... ill. She had never assimilated to observing the rarely feeble crippled as such, even in all her years of service in the Imperial Guard.
It was discomforting. She'd nearly forgotten about the lady in her arms as a result, though she was able to catch her grip of her before she fell (even harder) to the ground again. Treatise sniffed once in an attempt to distract her disarrayed senses from catching whiff of what Lord Yizhaq had collected unwillingly with him, that of putric magic and something painfully familiar. Lady Sanguine.
"We can move to another part of the base, yes. There are other Guardsmen due to follow me here, but they will know where we are. Please, follow," Treatise walked pass Yizhaq to one of the emptier halls just a minute or two walk's away. The sight of the area itself was strangely similar to that of Gadu's headquarters during Imisus' more peaceful days.
They arrived to an empty room just to the left of the hallway entrance. It was a relatively plain room, as well, but it had enough chairs to accompany Lord Yizhaq, Hayat, and the unconscious mage, whom Treatise set aside wryly in the corner. She was, admittedly, no Medic, though keeping her here seemed a better idea than leaving her to be trampled on by other potential teleporters and their confused guests.
There was a table at the very back of the relatively small room, and behind it was a flag of the Imperial Guard. She went over to the bookshelf right next to it, glancing over to Lord Yizhaq for certainty.
He was being earnest about the strong drink, surely. She grabbed a canteen from her belt and handed it to the lord.
"The Council is not one to keep alcohol readily for the Imperial Guard. There is ale in this, though might not be as strong as you hoped." The liquor had faced significant stretching for the past week, and Treatise was suffering a dry spell herself.
"Ah," he began to follow even before the Plague General had finished her request, murmuring a simple "Of course," as he recovered from the journey. After the chaos of the meeting, the sight of uniforms and routine even as they moved to a more isolated part of the base was settling.
The mage was deposited with little ceremony [in his own home, the Steward would have summoned someone to place her into a bed, but that was neither here nor there]. Hayat, of course, had noted that the woman was alive, and had no concern beyond that. Instead, her gaze searched the room for clues to its purpose. It did not seem to have one, specifically, and the books on the shelf weren't particularly illuminating.
"Perhaps they should change such a policy."
A tick at the corner of Yizhaq's mouth as he accepted the canteen revealed a smile that made him look his age, rather than the years of weariness that had been pressed upon him. "Let none speak ill of the Guard's hospitality." A swallow later and he returned the canteen, uncapped. Earnest indeed. Fortified, he turned to regard the table. "Shall we?"
Treatise received the lord's smile with warm reception, taking the canteen to take a swig. "Ah, yes." She offered it to Yizhaq as she would a kindred Guardsmen, then leaned against the table thoughtfully.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, sir Yizhaq: Are you an associate of Imisese roots?"
He laughed. A brief, hoarse sort of sound, but genuine nonetheless. "It would not be incorrect to say so, yes, though it is not the full story of my origin." Yizhaq tapped the canteen against the table, listening to the slosh of the remaining liquid. "My estate has much deeper roots in the province than Shyregoed. It is where we established our Panymese largess and where our oldest ties this side of the ocean remain."
Treatise raised her head. "Ah, I see. I was not completely incorrect, but for the purpose of my intentions, wrong enough," she smiled. "May I ask how you fare in Shyregoed, Sir Yizhaq? I am sure a lord of the North is more than acquainted with the affairs of the Fellowship. And, perhaps, something larger."
"Fair." A solitary shoulder lifted, as if to reference the latest turmoils of the noble caste. Still, if times were better for the common, they would not be so dark for their leadership. "I am able to maintain both estates, which is a blessing. To put it plainly, the recent upsets have done little to upset my estate, which is bountiful. The reduction in trade to my ancestral home came with the upswell of disease, and we have had several years to adjust from that."
He leaned in. "I do not think my wealth particularly interests you, so allow me to examine the later inquiry. I once thought myself to be intimately aware of the happenings of the Fellowship, an organization which my father died quite proud of, but in the past months, I have had that belief unfortunately corrected. I first met the... Grand Magnus, when she was but a girl." He sighed.
"In the land of, what feels like, perpetual winter, magic is a way of life. As both a practitioner and a lord, I am quite bound to maintain a positive relationship to the Fellowship." He paused. "Despite the disfavor they carry amongst our people."
Treatise recalled the Grand Magus rising at the stage of Helios and felt a certain upset loom on her mood. Even Sir Sloane had been there, hapless in the audience, so eager to fend off who he could before everyone had to leave. It was unpleasant to think of the hypothetical consequences that might follow. She stopped leaning against the table to simply sit on it, obviously perturbed.
"Ah, the riots. What blessed fortune is it for Lord bin Saleh to have both of his estates where trouble leads," she beamed, "Ah, but that is not important at the moment; it lends itself to prayer that you are doing relatively well. I know of nobles where the commonwealth have devastated both their wealth and lineage. Do be careful."
She pressed her hand against her chin, "Disfavor towards the Fellowship, lord? Still?" Treatise was knowing of the Waldgrave controversy-- her tone accounted for such. The Locos was surprised at what he'd said nevertheless-- was the North so adamant as to hold its grudge yet towards such an ancient faction?
"Yes, I am preternaturally lucky." His tired smile let all know he wasn't unaware of such irony. "They fear that which they do not understand. A fear that has been... Encouraged by certain interests. Though many respect the Fellowship, it is both an ancient and wealthy faction, which lends to power. Those without such things invariably crave or resent them."
His fingertips pushed the canteen across the small table before he settled back in his chair, only years of etiquette training stopping him from tilting it back onto two legs as he looked over Treatise. "My wife and heir have already been taken, by traitors in mages' garb. I have little concern left. As for the Fellowship, it remains in dire straits. You are aware of Waldgrave's depravity, and perhaps, just how deeply it ran amongst my supposed colleagues. We now have a worthy replacement, but the structure, the traditions, they have been shaken. It will take time, deep scrutiny, and careful strategy to recover."
"More and more of my caste owe their continued prosperity, and their loyalty, to the Cult. What used to be a whispered belief has now become talk over tea."
Treatise drank from her canteen, but slower this time staring at Yizhaq with reserved eyes. She glanced to Hayat before swigging, then handing it back to the lord.
"An absent wife and child... tragic. Were it not for the privacy of these quarters, I would be obliged to charge you for unseemly words against the Empire," She took the last of her swig and handed it back to Yizhaq, "Alas, I seek another thing entirely. I have but one more question: what are your thoughts, of this morning?"
"They will be recovered." Hayat's dry voice marked her words as fact, rather than hope, though she fell silent as Treatise quietly admonished her lord's audacity. Though his observations were for only the seething underbelly of a faction he had once cherished, they were still dangerous.
"Ah, the Empire," Perhaps Yizhaq should have been more concerned, as he matched Treatise's stare. Were it not for the privacy of those quarters, and the confidence he held in Treatise's character, his thoughts would have gone unremarked. "I shall take care not to smudge its reputation as I consider your inquiry."
"I am concerned, Plague General. There seems to be a wide divide between those that stand beside your kin, and those that do not, and no voice with the standing to defend them. I have put the Empire first when bidden, but..." He frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he considered Hayat and how she had prevented him from making a horrible decision. "I'm afraid I have become unaware of the entirety of the politics in play at Court. I think it is time that I paid a visit." Things had clearly changed, politically, and in the flurry of taking over his father's affairs, marrying, and having a child, Yizhaq had not been to court in some time. Not since Imisus had been his primary residence.
The Plague General laughed, though unexpectedly. She was not loud, but her mirth was evident enough and stirred awake the previously unconscious mage in the corner, whose eyes were now glued to the Locos with a certain degree of fright. The mage did not rise from her place, as if to ward any potential attention off of her for now.
"You are right, of course," Treatise leaned forward, "To the Excitos, the dividence between humans and Plagues are so apparent to their small eyes that the problem seems to be a great cataclysm. It perpetrates every aspect of their lives, but without the cooperation of man, they cannot go anywhere. But, to man, this dispersal is nothing more than a thin crack, easily walked over and ignored. They continue towards their downfall by their lonesome, as humans are so greatly fallable to missing vital details..."
The brunette and Mage exchanged awkward eye contact when, at last, the dazed woman came to stand. Treatise merely nodded to excuse her, which led the latter to pace eagerly out of the room.
That was of no interest to Treatise, of course. She stood akimbo in her indignance only when she noticed General Kunze off in the distance, just where the three of them had been teleported but minutes earlier. Where, exactly, were her men?
"Damn," she seethed, though she quickly continued on, "Yet, out of this conflict comes a great exception: A willing Grimm. An estranged not-Plague, not-human who was born at the center of this crack, and has grown to not resent nor try to escape from it, but embrace it wholly. But, as I must conclude after today, this enigma is few and far between."
General Kunze, without noticing his Plague, had already instinctively moved towards the room. Treatise breathed in and looked to Yizhaq, and Hayat.
"I trust that you are one of those enigmas. And I trust that I may trust in you, Lord Yizhaq, to be a representative when you return to Shyregoed to be man of both Plague and humans?"
Treatise paused, then turned to Hayat, bowing graciously.
"And to Lady Hayat, important moreso, to do your cause as Plague outright, not merely as a vassal to your lord."
Fascinating. Yet it was not a problem he had failed to consider. He wondered how often Hayat thought of such things, and concluded that it must be a frequent concern.
"Plague General," The lord's gaze shifted briefly toward the hall, where the foot fall of the mage was replaced by that of General Kunze. He took swift note of her change in demeanor, the rush to finish the meat of their conversation. "You have my word."
Hayat nodded, accepting Treatise's words as plea, rather than insult, and returning a silent curtsey - one that was extended as Kunze entered the room and her lord moved to his feet to offer the man a salute. Yizhaq did not think that this man was quite what Treatise had in mind, when she told them her men would be along shortly. The General had been securing the Emperor's safety, and one might assume that task had been completed by his presence here, of all places.
Treatise smiled pleasantly. "My service for yours."
Kunze entered the premise and offered Yizhaq a dreadful stare in return. He succeeded marvelously at transforming his demeanor, however, from that of dead fatigue to that of marked irritation.
Treatise coughed and raised her head to Kunze, "Diedthelm."
"Plague General Treatise. I trust that a Councilman has informed you of your Guardsmen transferring to Mishkan."
"Ah. I have not, but it sits well with me; I have two fellow Guardsmen here already. They were just about to leave."
"Were they, then?" he turned to Yizhaq, nodding, "I give you my regards, Sir Yizhaq. And a soredid farewell."
He carried the scent of Lady Sanguine, as well, though it was concealed by something quite foreign.
"And you, sir." Yizhaq's thoughts remained shielded behind an expression as bland as Hayat's and he paused but a moment before collecting Hayat and taking their leave. The mages assigned to transportation still remained where others came and went, and it was no true effort to hail one and be on their way.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2012 1:39 am
[5] judgment
Who: Yizhaq, Hayat, the Guard's Table
When: One Grey Morning
Where: Ashcroft, Mishkan
Why: A final decree by The Imperial Guard's Plague faction on the status of Lord Yizhaq and Lady Hayat bin Saleh.
]http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=22711279
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2012 5:12 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2013 4:44 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2013 4:48 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2013 5:07 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2013 5:09 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2013 5:11 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 12, 2013 5:12 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
