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StellaLuna SkyWind Captain
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 Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 12:50 pm
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▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬（ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ）▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬
❝Ａ ＭＡＮ ＭＵＳＴ ℓιvє ＬＩＫＥ Ａ ＧＲＥＡＴ вяιℓℓιαит ＦＬＡＭＥ ＡＮＤ вυяи ＡＳ вяιɢнтℓч ＡＳ ＨＥ ＣＡＮ.
ＩＮ ＴＨＥ єи∂ ＨＥ вυяиs ＯＵＴ. ＢＵＴ ＴＨＩＳ ＩＳ
ＦＡＲ вєттєя ＴＨＡＮ Ａ мєαи ＬＩＴＴＬＥ ғℓαмє.❞
—¤÷(`[¤* *¤]´)÷¤— -ｂｏｒｉｓ ｙｅｌｔｓｉｎ XXX
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 The day was half done, and the time had almost come. Soon she would be riding upon the wall of the Brougham Citadel with her traveling partner. From there, things could g very well, or get rather ugly. Unfortunately, the dark haired female worried that it would be something messy. Raoullin's flame was not know to travel such a distance without business, and that business tended to be messy. It was how she had earned her alias. Raoullin's flame was not kinda and gentle, despite her appearance. She was not known to have many weaknesses outside of the frail stature she carried because she was human. And even with that, she was good at hiding and guarding her weaknesses. Yes, the dark haired female, who look so refined, was known to be quite vicious when it came down to getting matters at hand. She was not called a flame for her gentle warmth and protective glow. No. She was known as Raoullin's Flame because when Katsa attacked, her violence sparked and took like a raging fire, encompassing everything it could, and burning it just as severely. That was her mission today. An attack on the Brougham Citadel. Not by order of her King, but for the man she traveled with. Brigan. Her fight was for Brigan's cause.
Grey eyes glanced upon the man who rode just ahead of her. His strength was set in his shoulders. He looked small, compared to many other players in this great game. Brougham and Raoullin kingdoms both had men built bigger and stronger, even if they were not trained in combat. The baker near her home in the greater Raoullin Citadel was thrice the size of Brigan. Size however, was not everything. For the flame was drawn to the Wind, which was what Brigan was known as. Flame and Wind, traveling together, and staying together. Fighting for the same cause. Each as fierce as the other. Both bitter and angry in their cause. Brigan of course, was focused on revenge. He wanted to avenge his sister, the girl that Brougham's kingdom had taken. It had been many years ago, but that did not mean it did not rub Brigan everyday. No. It had wounded him everyday, and every morning he woke fresh, salt had been rubbed in that wound with the knowledge that his younger sister had not been returned. That this was all somehow, his fault. Katsa knew this story well. She had comforted Brigan on several occasions when they discussed this. Raoullin's Wind constantly took his sister's abduction into consideration. This was just the result of those years of waiting.
Katsa looked to the skies, hearing a snort from her mount Menifee. The stallion nickered once more and lifted his head. Katsa loosened her hold on the reins and patted the stallion's neck. her mount was a fine prize, but that did not make riding side saddle any easier. She was a lady. She was not allowed to ride with a leg on each side of her mount. Even though she knew Brigan would excuse her less then feminine choice of riding, she still would not sully her mannerisms or appearance with riding like a man. Besides, if she was going into battle this day, then she would wear a gown. Menifee gave another whinny and pawed hard upon the ground. Katsa took hold of her saddle's pommel and flicked the reins, allowing Menifee to chase forward, leaving Brigan momentarily behind her. She gave a loud whooping yell as they drew out of the woods reach. Clear sky rained down upon her, unobstructed by the canopy of leaves close growing trees gave. She drew Menifee to a halt, waiting for Brigan to clear the trees. She smiled at his comment. Had she truly intended to race him, she would have reached Brougham's walls long and lit them to fire long ago. She would have been watching them burn, awaiting the aid of wind to spread her flame further and faster.
"Had I truly intended to race you, our mission here would have been completed long ago. It is not my fault my mount is restless. He's done nothing but cart me and our supplies day after day. He is used to a run without the burden of weight upon him. he has not seen that for as long as we've traveled. He longs to run free, not keep to your crawling pace." Katsa's eyes danced as she looked to Brigan passing her once more. His cloak's hood had been drawn up and over his face, but now, it had fallen back to reveal his dark, curly hair. His eyes, green, scanned the sight before them. They were looking over a field, and glaring ahead at the Brougham Citadel. This is what they had come for. Revenge. Katsa, to protect Brigan. On this mission, Katsa was to be the sword. She was to deal the blows, and Brigan would be the one to back her up. he was the shield, which was probably why he was brooding. Brigan was not a male to take a back seat. He was all about action and vengeance. It would be even harder for him to restrain himself when he got closer. Once she began her attack upon the citadel, she would not be able to satiate his overwhelming rage and need for revenge. Her attacks would only kindle the emotions he'd been feeling over and over for the last ten years, long before they'd met.
Katsa stroked over Menifee's mane, taking strands in her fingers and pulling her fingers through it, as if combing it with her hand. She was waiting for Brigan to order her forward. When he gave the command, she would attack. She would light the houses on fire. Gray eyes studied the dark haired male, reins taught in her grasp, ready at the slightest indication. A breeze blew over her face. Whether it was Brigan or simply the weather, it was what broke the man's patience. Katsa saw it, the tiniest of nods, and she smacked the reins against Menifee's neck and rode out for the outskirt houses, summoning the will to light flame. She could taste it, her eyes narrow, but wild with enchantment and excitement. This was for Anna. This was for Brigan. For Raoullin. For the injustice that Brougham spread upon her kingdom. It's people. She was Raoullin's flame. She would burn this city to the ground, and then, she would burn Brougham to the ground, until all that was left was ash. She cried out, outstretching her arm, calling her power forward for the strike.
 Where:Outskirts of Brougham CItadel
Who: Brigan, Nash, Menifee
Cash: 10 Gold
Health: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇
OOC: Let's Get this Party Started >3
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 1:52 pm
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▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶ ☾ ✰ ☽ ◁ ◀ ◁ ◀ ◁ ◀ ◁ ◀ ◁
❝Ａ ＢＲＥＥＺＥ ＣＡＭＥ ωαи∂єяιиɢ ＦＲＯＭ ＴＨＥ
ＳＫＹ, ＬＩＧＨＴ ＡＳ ＴＨＥ ωнιsρєяs ＯＦ Ａ ∂яєαм;
ＨＥ ＰＵＴ ＴＨＥ ＯＶＥＲＨＡＮＧＩＮＧ ɢяαssєs ＢＹ,
ＡＮＤ sσғтℓч ＳＴＯＯＰＥＤ ＴＯ кιss ＴＨＥ ＳＴＲＥＡＭ, ＴＨＥ ρяєттч ＳＴＲＥＡＭ, ＴＨＥ ғℓαттєяє∂ ＳＴＲＥＡＭ, ＴＨＥ sнч, ＹＥＴ ＵＮＲＥＬＵＣＴＡＮＴ sтяєαм ＯＦ ωιи∂.❞
`•.¸¸.••´´¯``•• .¸¸.•´ -ｖｉｃｔｏｒ ｈｕｇｏ XXX
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XXX  It was noontime. The sun was directly overhead. It cast green tinted shadows upon the ground he passed over. His hood up, keeping his face carefully hidden, he could ponder his thoughts. Why was he launching this attack? No. He knew why. Brougham would pay. Brougham would be torn apart. Brick by Brick. It's people would suffer. None would survive. They had taken his sister. His Anna. This was not new. This was a scar. A pain older then his romance. He closed his eyes and he saw the scene unfolding before him.
A girl with golden hair. Golden hair and green eyes. A chubby face that was known only to beings in their childhood. Her lips were full. They were pink and beautiful. Also upon her porcelain face, the only flaw, a smattering of freckles. Her dress was green, and made of wool. Her boots were brown and caked in mud. She was a dirty child. Yes. She had been playing in a copse of trees not far from their home. She ran to the dark haired male. Brigan. A twelve year old version of himself, holding a knife, readying himself for a hunt. The golden haired girl, Anna, was his sister. She came running to him, excitement bubbling in her eyes. She hugged him, narrowly missing his knife. The younger Brigan scolded his sister for running at him when his knife was unsheathed. The golden haired girl laughed and exclaimed that she had found a purse in the woods. one that was loaded with money. She revealed it to him. Horror raced through him. It's craftsmanship was not Raoullin. It's make was foreign. From Brougham. he looked at the thing in abstract horror, seeing the gold coins that were spilling from the bag as Anna shook it around, proud of her findings.
The twelve year old Brigan took the golden haired girl by the shoulders and shook her, explaining the danger of what she had done. She had stolen. She had taken from another kingdom. This was a punishable offense. This was bad. Dangerous. She would be in trouble. He would have to defend her. He would take her back. She would escort him to the spot and they would give the gold back. There was no parent to solve this problem. Both he and his sister were orphans. Anna was all he had in the world. He couldn't let pain come to her. Or punishment. No. He would protect her. He took her right there, by the hand, collecting all the spilled coins and putting them back in the pouch. Anna led him to the campsite. It hadn't been abandoned. No. It was bustling with life. This was dangerous. He implored his sister to show him the place she had stolen the bag from quickly. When she revealed the place, he set the bag down, and quickly made his leave, pulling Anna along with him, but someone had seen. A guard. Pulling him and Anna apart. he escorted them to a big man. This man was dressed richly. Some kind of Lord. Brigan explained that they were returning the coin. Not stealing. That Anna had taken it by accident. That she'd thought it empty and admired the bag while playing. That she had wanted a purse. That once Brigan had found out, he had forced her to return it.
The Lord nodded his understanding, and turned eyes to Anna. The golden hair and beautiful face. Green eyes, honest, innocent, afraid. Something like a trapped animal. the Lord had taken a liking to her one just appearance alone. He shooed the guard away, telling him to take Brigan. The curly haired twelve year old screamed. yelled. Complained. Begged. He received a blow to the eye. It shut him up for a few moments, but that was all that was needed. his vision swam. Everything went dark. Nothing was going to be okay. he choked on his sister's name as he lost consciousness.
When he regained awareness to the world that was not his dreams, he was in the woods. The smell of camp fire burned all around him, but it was nothing but smoke. There were no more fires. There was no more camp. The trampled ground was all that was left behind. And lock of golden hair, half buried in the dirt, with a rag, smelling of wine and blood. Anna was gone, just as camp was.
Brigan forced himself back to the present. Reminiscing would do him no good. It would make him angry. He needed anger and rage to fight, but not when he was trying to think about how to do things. Not when he was riding to the Brougham Citadel with his companion, readying themselves for an attack that could potentially start a war. No. He needed to be more level headed. If he found Anna, no matter what shape she was in, he would take her home with him. Free her from whatever enslavement she found herself in. He would not let her suffer another moment in the kingdom of Brougham. He was strong enough to free her. With Katsa's help, they would find Anna, free her, and burn Brougham and heir loathsome lords and nobles to the ground so that no other Raoullin girls would be taken. So no Raoullin citizen would ever again be abducted. The hooded male let out a sigh, admiring the greenery that surrounded him still. The tips of the Valencia forest. They would emerge soon, and set straight for the Brougham Citadel. Just himself, his companion, and two horses. When he returned through this path, he hoped to have three companions and the satisfaction of knowing his revenge was finally dealt.
Carefully, Brigan turned his head back towards his companion. luckily, she was looking at her own mount, trying to soothe him. Brigan knew that Menifee, Katsa's steed often proved difficult on long journeys. It was why the female didn't take many. Not to mention she had a certain aversion to combat. She was not afraid of it, but rather, wanted to attack only when she was provoked. She had agreed to taking this mission with him because she cared for him, just as he cared for her. They were lovers. She had found him a few years back, and had comforted him ever since. She was not Anna, but she was quite a comfort. Someone who understood him. Who understood his pain and did not shy away from it. No. She had sat with him, the times he'd woken up in rages, or in tears, screaming the things he wished he could have done. She had never once walked out on him. She had simply sat beside him and soothed him until he was silent once more. Calm enough to continue. He took in her appearance. Dark hair swept back form her face. An ornamental band around her head, as though she were royalty, or a higher class. Her shoulders, bare, allowing her movement rather then confinement as she would have found in the stiff gowns she wore when she ventured into court. The color of this one, was red. Gilded leaves made her belt of gold color. It was a fitting ensemble for the Raoullin Flame. She was every bit as elegant and dangerous as was her namesake. He smirked at this thought. She was his flame. His passion. His reason to continue fighting for Anna, and for the Kingdom of Raoullin.
When Katsa raced ahead of him, clearing the trees and venturing out into open air, Brigan forced his own mount, Nash, out after her. Was she trying to give chase? To snap him from thoughts? It had worked if that had been the case. In his speed, his hood fell back, and he arrived in the white light of the sun. There was no more shade or cover of green. They were out in the open. He smirked, looking to Katsa who had calmed her steed once more. "Was it your intention to race? I would have preferred to have heard you say 'go' before just taking off. It's not very considerate to cheat." he gave a half-hearted smile, though he saw her eyes dance. She was amused, and her reply told him just as much. He let his lips twitch into a smile, though, as he looked out over the field, he saw Brougham's Citadel. it was the disgusting residence of that filthy Lord. The filthy people that lived here, keeping his sister form him, possibly having harmed her. These people were all monsters. They stole children from perfectly good homes for their own usage. This was something disgusting. unforgivable.
Katsa did not ask him for a command. She was waiting patiently, watching him. He could feel it. Feel her gaze upon him. His eyes remained glued upon the scene in front of him, gripping tighter and tighter upon the reins. There was a breeze, as if his own power were ushering him forward. This was it. the moment he would attack. He gave a single nod. Barely a movement, and Katsa shot off ahead of him. He urged Nash after Menifee. He called upon the wind he bore. His own element to wield. One to help Katsa's flame travel further. He closed his eyes, flashing them hard upon the citadel. He called his power to his hand, his focus eminent upon his rage. Allowing his rage to build in his hand. Brougham would pay. He would tear it apart with with his bare hands if he had to, but he had Katsa. He would help spread her flame, making everything suffer the burning of death. Then he would crush whatever was left beneath his boots. This was it. The moment he had waited ten years to do. The moment he would take his revenge. Its all for you Anna. Everything is for you. in your name, I will destroy this city. He let out a yell, echoing Katsa's, and following her attack with his power in a strike against the first home they came across, as the first bit of the Brougham to crumble.
 Where: Outskirts of Brougham Citadel
Who: Katsa, Menifee, and Nash
Cash: 12 gold
Health: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇
OOC: Let's Get this Party Started >3
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StellaLuna SkyWind Captain
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StellaLuna SkyWind Captain
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2013 6:43 pm
  ｃｏｏｒｄｉｎａｔｅｓ: Raoullin Kingdom, Town Square. ♨ ｐａｒｔｙ: Michael and (Serafina) ♨ ｈｅａｌｔｈ: 100% ♨ ａｔｔｉｒｅ Dress And Cloak ♨ ｈｏｒｓｅ: Magedelena ♨ ｏｏｃ: Dorry for the delay D: Mornings were never her favorite art of the day, as it was the time that normally required the most work. She was by no means lazy, but seeing her father upon the ground, not far from a bottle of ale that had been dripping it’s last drops onto the dirt was distressing. At least he’d made it home. She had woken many times to have to go out and actually search for her father instead of him making it home. This drinking had been much the same since her mother had passed on. There was nothing she could do to console him. No matter her efforts, her father had become a drunk. She now supported her household, which was quite uncommon, given that it was the man who had more of a position in society. She didn’t complain about it thought, as she loved her father, and it had probably been some of her fault that he had ended up in such a state. Instead of remaining at his side, and trying to continue with life when her mother had passed, Katsa had pulled away, leaving her father to beat the burden of work, putting food on the table, and coping to himself. She had isolated everyone in her mother’s passing, even her mentor and teacher. She had abandoned her magic and let it run rampant. It was no wonder why her father had lost touch with his reality so quickly. And it was her fault that she hadn’t been there to care for him. She had accepted that burden long ago, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be upset about the state her father was in when she awoke each morning. With a sigh, she pulled up her father’s frail body, taking great effort to be gentle, even though he was quite large, despite his fraility. She got him gently into bed and changed his clothes, bathing him the best she could as he laid there, smelling of ale and bodily waste. She frowned deeply, making him a small meal and leaving it at his bedside. She kissed his forehead and told him softly that she would be going out, and then she was off.
She took only moments to grab her cloak, before she headed out to the small stable near the house. She saddled Magdelena, stroking the horse’s nose tenderly. Her best companion was Magdelena, and the horse took her wherever she needed to go, as long as there was proper bribe and payment. This morning, it seemed the horse was cross, as she whickered and nudged away Katsa’s tender hand after a moment. The raven-haired female gave a laugh and nodded. ”If you take me into town, I’ll buy you apples. And then we can go and investigate. How does that sound? And we’ll be back before the weather turns bad.” She smiled, gently stroking the mare’s head once more, before she mounted the horse and led her at a brisk trot towards town. It took no time at all, given the mare’s pace, as well as the short distance between town and her own little home farm. She smiled gently, leading the mare to a common stable in the town. She didn’t want to leave her horse, but she would do better on foot, then riding the mare through the narrow streets. Especially given that she would need to visit the square and it’s plethora of market stalls to get provisions before she was off and about to solve things on her own means and ends. Her hood hung lightly off her back to reveal raven hair to the sun as she tethered the mare after dismounting and headed for the square. She gave a last pat to the mare and was off, pulling her cloak tighter to her form. She should have worn something better for traveling. Silks and satins were for ladies gowns and balls, but she hadn’t the sense to consider something more sensible like wool for traveling. She shook her head at her mistake, and instead joined the throng of people milling around the already busy square.
She paid no heed to where she would find a familiar face, and instead turned her attention to gathering provisions. She would need apples for Magdelena, and bread, cheese, and dried fruits for a long journey. She would need to fill her water skin before she left as well. Her attention was stolen momentarily by the announcement form the town crier. It seemed that the Brougham Prince had been assassinated. While this was a shock to many, and to Katsa as well, she couldn’t help but think about troubles in her own lands. There had been rumors of a child’s death. She wanted to inquire with the town’s jailer about that matter. Children were precious gifts to those who could have them, so the fact that one had been murdered in the kingdom of Raoullin was unacceptable. She closed her eyes for a moment, to calm herself and her newfound irritated flame. She couldn’t lose control. Not over such a matter. She needed to take care of herself. She neded to take care of this matter. She knew that much. And she would. She started towards a stall when she heard the tones of a familiar masculine voice. She stopped, a smirk playing across her face, before she turned to look at him, amusement written clearly across her face. Ah, so he was trying to be quite the gentleman this morning. He would not fool her so easily, as she knew about his penchant for women. She smiled, and gave a small curtsy to him. ”And a fair morning to meet such a fine Lord.” She smiled, but upon hearing his question of the news of the princes, she frowned and looked lower than his eyes, letting her mind drift to the thoughts of before. ”A pity yes, but more a pity the insidious crimes going on inside the borders of our own kingdom. Even if it is just a rumor…”
The darkness that had come over her thoughts was gone when he asked if she would ride with him. His horse needed the exercise. Magdelena needed a run as well. Katsa smiled, hearing him offer about getting her a horse from the stable but she shook her head gently. She had no need for such things. ”No need. My mare is tied there already. I was just picking up some provisions. I’d be more than happy to accompany you. I just need to grab a few things for a journey. And then we can disembark if you don’t mind waiting, that is.” She gave him a coy and playful smile. Surely, he wouldn’t mind her picking up a few provisions? She turned to the stall behind her and purchased a few apples and some dried fruit, readying herself to turn to the next stall when she heard the sound of one body crashing into another. The raven-haired mage turned quickly to see a girl [Serafina] plow completely into Michael. It was clear that the girl [Serafina] had not been paying attention. Katsa frowned, even as the girl began apologizing profusely. She stepped closer to Michael, ready to take a wrist if her got angry. She should have known that he would most likely be calm and collected with only a hint of irritation. She just wanted to be there in case it did get out of hand. There was no need for a brawl in the square today. Not under any circumstances, and especially not if they wanted to get out with their horses today. Katsa looked to Michael, waiting to see how he would handle the situation. She didn’t want to have a fight on their hands. Not already, and it seemed that the girl Serafina] didn’t want one either.
ＷＨＥＲＥ ＴＨＥＲＥ ＩＳ ∂εsɩяε ＴＨＥＲＥ ＩＳ ＧＯＮＮＡ ＢＥ Ａ ғℓαɱε
ＷＨＥＲＥ ＴＨＥＲＥ ＩＳ Ａ ғℓαɱε ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ'Ｓ ＢＯＵＮＤ ＴＯ ＧＥＴ вυяɳε∂
ＢＵＴ ＪＵＳＴ ＢＥＣＡＵＳＥ ＩＴ вυяɳs ＤＯＥＳＮ'Ｔ ＭＥＡＮ ＹＯＵ'ＲＥ ＧＯＮＮＡ ∂ɩε
ＹＯＵ ＧＯＴＴＡ ＧＥＴ ＵＰ ＡＮＤ тяч тяч тяч
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Posted: Wed Mar 06, 2013 1:08 am
   Well, it was a nice mid-day and really, she had no complaints about the current happenings of the caravan. They had done their morning show, and Urla had been busy reaping the profits. She was certain all members of the troupe were participating to the best of their abilities, and that could be where the potential problems would start to reveal themselves. She had heard what the town crier had had to say. She had heard the announcement about the prince’s Death, and she knew eyes would be on her troupe. They gypsies came to town, and the prince turns up dead. It would be clear and easy to blame her caravan. Hell, it would be like taking candy from a newborn babe, but Urla knew that none of her members would dare to step a toe out of line in the way or murdering good folk, especially not royalty. She trusted those she allowed to travel with her in her own caravan. And besides, she had double the protection and buffers. She may have been the one in charge, but she had a few others who made their authority know. They were people that had been with her the longest and she respected them the most. It wasn’t just any mongrel that she chose to let travel with them. Oh no. They had to earn it by spending time and working hard under her eyes. If their performance wasn’t satisfactory in her caravan, they’d find themselves a** out of the job and home in a puddle of piss by the time she got through with them. She was rough and mean, unless she really liked a person. By now, she trusted many of her caravan members, even if they didn’t have ranks and titles, she was close enough with them to know what they would and would not do. And she knew damn well that they wouldn’t go slit the throats of some lily-handed royal. Either way, there would need to be an announcement, and she was the only one that would be able to make it.
Moving out of the wagon that held her office, she righted her skirts, taking her sweet time to reach her destination. Already waiting for her was a dark skinned man, standing clearly at the end of the steps leading down from her wagon’s entrance. He was truly more of a body guard than anything, but even in the scheme of the troupe he had his use as the “strong man” symbol, even though he wasn’t fully human himself. His larger than life appearance had to do with his bloodlines, figuring there was probably some giant in there somewhere, if not troll or ogre. He was very good at brute strength, which is why he was normally in the position of her door guard. She touched his shoulder as she came down the steps and he moved aside, ready to flank her where she went. She smiled, patting his arm, and asked how he was doing. She was concerned about her people, and she meant it when she said she hoped they were having a good day. She was nothing but sincere in most cases, especially when it came to her troupe. They were her people. Of course, they were not slaves or anything of the like, but they were still her people. Beings she trusted. Minds that weren’t outside, but instead, were shaped in means to give her what she wanted, when she wanted and needed it. She couldn’t really have asked for a better bunch, but of course, it had taken her years and distance to find such a collection. She passed the flurry of people, who stopped to look at her as she passed, passing off helloes and goodbyes, greetings and questions of health and fortune. Urla smiled and waved back to them, telling them that they should get to the center of camp, and spread the word. Many simply nodded and were off to do her bidding, which she much appreciated. The less work she had to do as far as wrangling people in, the better.
One guard melded into two, as a pale man with strange slitted pupils took her other side. She smiled, nodding her head, acknowledging his existence as he drew closer to her. He often gave a good show of breathing fire to those who watched their show. He was truly a marvel, even though he had trained with Fire mages. His eyes though, were said to be a rare occurrence, or perhaps were some magic of their own. She would not tell, and neither would he, and that was how the troupe operated. Urla dealt out the secrets, picked members from all parts of Dalibor to join her caravan and worked her contracts and operations with a steady hand. She was not about to let everything that she had built so carefully for years come to an abrupt end because any of her gypsies could not keep to themselves and got some fingers pointed at them. Especially the younger ones. The more seasoned members weren’t as rash, and they knew how to avoid getting caught, and how to avoid eyes. Those who were younger, or were simply newer to her collection of bodies did not know all the lessons that Urla had administered to the rest of the caravan. With more time, they would understand and learn, but right now they were being facd with a situation that could not afford mistakes or errors. No fingers could be pointed at the caravan for the death of the prince. Urla sighed, knowing that she was guilty of many crimes, but this one was not one she had committed And she’s be damned if she, or her caravan would be pointed at for murder. It was too messy a business to dabble in.
She looked out, nearing the center of the caravan grounds. To the side, there was a roughly mad ring, holding all the horses for the caravan. With a smile, Urla waved off the two men who had flanked her thus far, and took a moment for herself, going to the horses, and observing them as they seemed so peaceful, grazing without a care in the world. The plump woman smiled, leaning against the rough wood that was pieced together to keep the horses in. With a smile, she noted her own mount didn’t even bother to look up as she gazed out among the gentle animals with a smile. She dealt so often with people, that she barely had time to go riding, or even frolic among the animals anymore. Sometimes, it was a distressing fact, that she was busy with caravan business, but she knew that she had made her own path, and would continue to do so. She would continue with the secrets and affairs that she had, and that was something that was without question.
Coming upon the center of the caravan, she found a group of the younger members already present, seemingly talking among themselves about the show. They’d probably ended up in the center of camp before they knew about her announcement, but it was all the better that she didn’t have to send people to fetch them. Aislinn was the first one she noticed. Soon after came more faces. Dante, holding a bucket of coins that patrons must have thrown up on stage. Ewan was getting a lecture, and even the direwolf Ralis was present and seemed to be attentive. Urla looked at all of them, placing her hands on her hips, felling the familiar presence of her two silent bodyguards behind her once more. She looked at the three younger members and the direwolf, waiting to see if they would be quiet, seeing as the rest of the caravan had gathered around them while they spoke. Once Urla was content, she let a smile fall over her face and she put her hands up in the air, palms out towards the members of her caravan and smiled gently. ”If yer’ll be quiet, we’re gonna start.” She waited a few more moments, allowing every to get settled, before she began speaking. She needed everyone to listen carefully.
”I know yer all probably wonderin’ why I called ya all here. And I have good reason. The Crier’s said that the Prince has been murdered. And just aft’ we came inta town. Ya all know what that means. We’re the first culprits ta point fingers at! And I’ll be damned if any of ya are the ones getting’ accused. I know all of ya. I know what yer capable of, and the line ya wouldn’ dare ta cross. Ya also know I protect my own. Yer all my people. Yer my family. Yer my children, brothers, sisters, cousins, and so on. And I don’ wanna see none of ya up there at the noose, ya hear me? So keep yer business clean, got it? If any one of ya starts causin’ problems for the rest of us, I’ll send ya packin’ so fast yer’ll think you were watching Ewan loose an arrow. We still gotta make some coin, so ya better keep up all yer work. There’ll be no slackin’ because of Brougham’s loss. The more loss, the more drink. The more drink the easier ta pick. Stick to the slums. The guards’ll be lookin’ for trouble makers and the rich will be fearin’ attempts on their own lives. Do NOT get caught. I will punish you good if you bring trouble ta this caravan.” She passed a look to the younger members who had scrambled up front. ”If ya can’t pull the prize easy, then ya leave it, hear me? ‘Specially ya young ones. Don’ know all the rules yet, so ya be extra careful, hear me? I’ll hang ya by your ears if ya don’.” She looked over the collection of gypsies once more, before giving a gentle smile and nodding her head gently. There was work to be done, and once announcement could only stop the caravan for so long. ”Now get yerselves back ta work! There’s thing ta be done ‘round here.” She clapped her hand sand made shooing motions, a smirk working its way across her face as she turned to look to her body guards. She was expecting a report from the fire breather. The more news she had, the better she could handle the situation. She’d not let this death be pinned on her caravan. No way, no how.
OOC: Hope this is okay ;3 I think I quoted everyone. Wnated to make sure it was seen ;3
Location: Brougham Streets, Caravan Camp Center
Health: ██████████████████████
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StellaLuna SkyWind Captain
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