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 Posted: Mon Feb 06, 2012 10:36 pm
THE IMPERIAL GUARD
Why?
A meeting requested by Plague General Treatise.
Whom?
Maeve la Chance (Roadkill)
-&-
Plague General Treatise
Where?
Ald, Imisus.
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Posted: Tue Feb 07, 2012 3:03 am
Calm, ebbing tides. A whispering tea-- a pinch of salt. The wet edges of bay docks nearby are painted in a sweet fragrance-- Imisese musk and the smell of Death lingers close. Treatise eyes and smells these things from her place at the boundaries of Ald, whisps of brown hair clouding her vision along with occasional whisks of wind. Spring loomed on the horizon, and yet, the sea winds never gave in, and her nose is as red and numb as it was during her experiences in Shyregoed.
In one hand she clutched the handle of a light sword, and in the other a burlap cloth she used to shine her weapon's metal exterior. The Plague General is seated quietly on a bench while Guardsman wagons are pulled a significant distance away from her, enough to make them seem squishable between her fingers through her vision. She tilted her sword towards the sea's horizon, and notices the opalescent glint it makes to reflect the calm tide of blue. Ships splotch the edges of her blade in specks of creamy whites and dark blues and chocolate browns. Smiling, the Plague General stood up from her seat and held the sword against sunlight, admiring its polishwork until a shadow obstructed her front.
A big man, round, burly, and a model of Shyregoedian ancestry, tapped Treatise on the shoulder. She slid her sword back into its plain sheath and looks towards him, and her vision is particularly entranced by an equally as matching sword gripped around his square hands. "Miss la Chance-- is she here?"
"Nae." He offered the sword to Treatise, and she took it in one arm, balancing it between her palms to inspect his work. "But I go' wat ye hired me fer done fer th'day, and if'n ye have no more orders, th'boys n' I are gonna make some broth. They say Imisese beef es sweet en' melts tae the touch-- would ye like some?"
"No," Treatise replied; she smiled at him and placed the sword next to her on the bench. "I'm not hungry."
The blacksmith crossed his arms and murmured, "Course ye ain't, but no 'arm in askin'." He seemed taken aback when Treatise replied with a simple, light-hearted laughter, and rose from her seat-- he backed away and the Plague General simply stood next to him. Though the woman was particularly tall for her sex, she was several heads away from reaching her companion's incredible height.
"I suppose there is no harm done in joining you during a meal. I'd ensure that Miss la Chance would have her share." She took the sword from the bench, nodded towards the bunching of caravans, and the man behind her followed with a reluctant few steps forward. His gait was admittedly awkward and sluggish; Treatise stopped once in a while to allow him a catch-up.
"Ye seem rather sure of something ye should not be sure abo't," he snapped, "Stew fer Treatise's Guardsmen only."
"Whether she rejects or not, a meal should compensate for her travels to the city gates."
When they reached the center of the wagons, there was a pit of logs and an entrancing fire, which shone brightly even during the day. An assortment of Guardsmen sat near the center, human, Excito, and Anhelo alike, a few with instruments drawn and ready to play; others were murmuring to a vaguely familiar tune with their voices, while others quietly enjoyed the sound of crackling ash as a cauldron above the firepit brewed their next hearty meal. A man nearest to the fire added ingredients ranging from slivers of meat to scraps of vegetables and, lastly, stale but hearty chunks of bread and liquor.
The blacksmith sat first, and following him was Treatise, who sat next to him near the fire. He huffed. "You say that as ef travelin' through a city es like travelin' from Shyregeod tae Auvinus an' back."
"And through the Arcana River," another shouted, plucking a note on his fiddle, while another alighted it with a gentle huff into his flute, "Maeve la Chance, was it? Sounds like a lover long passed!"
"A woman who acts like a woman, unlike our sire here," someone nudged Treatise on the shoulder, who returned it with a gentle shove. The gathering of Guardsmen laughed at their friends' misfortune, hummed, and broke into song.
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Posted: Tue Feb 07, 2012 6:30 pm
Feelings of apprehension tugged at Maeve's mind the whole walk there. It could be another set up-- a trap to do her in for good and take her Plague, but... The letter seemed sincere. She wasn't sure how she could interpret a letter as such, yet it felt that way. Would a Plague betray her own kind? No, she thanked Maeve for her loyalty, so she doubted that would happen. Maybe it truly was just a meeting-- an opportunity to express her ideas to Maeve. The mercenary would be grateful for such.
The closer she got, the better she could smell the sea air. Memories of her childhood in Mishkan came to life with something as simple as a vague scent. It was comforting to be by the ocean again, and perhaps a good sign of things to come. The woman was aware that the eastern seas were quite different than the sea along Mishkan, but the feeling remained the same.
Finally, wagons came into view not too far from the coast. Clearly Imperial Guard with their deep navy and golds strewn about in decoration. This must've been her destination; she was to meet the Plague General here. As she approached, she could see a healthy fire in the middle of the caravan and Maeve heard... singing? Merry singing accompanied by instruments wafted over to Maeve's ears, accompanied by the sound of the waves and soft tides. This was not exactly what she had been expecting. A meeting that sounded so serious from the letter began to feel more light-hearted as Maeve closed the gap between herself and the ring of carriages.
Stepping between two carriages, Maeve held her ground, unsure whether to approach or not. The mercenary had taken the time to clean her clothes thoroughly and fix her hair properly. Appearances before people of importance meant quite a bit, and Maeve wanted to put her best foot forward, even if she disagreed with whatever the Plague General was going to say. Only, these were all military men; they looked rough, experienced and... It was like the old days. Traveling with her mercenary band with all the men. Those memories seemed so fleeting and long ago, but Maeve held a special importance to them in her heart. Along with the men, she could spot small Excitos, too. Her gaze softened upon seeing them, and she sighed a breath of relief.
Maeve took two more steps forward, still keeping some distance, but letting her presence be known. Her hand remained steadily at her side, not tense and waiting to draw her espada ropera. This 'camp' gave off strangely good feelings, but maybe she was just feeling nostalgic. Scanning over the people, her eyes caught the sight of the woman-- the Plague who had asked for her to come, Treatise.
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Posted: Fri Feb 10, 2012 3:49 am
The lot of men in mind were busy strumming at instruments, laughing heartily at one another for what mistakes they made between notes and flaunty attempts at garnering an expression from the Plague General. Treatise remained generally unfazed, though her slight smile did not wear as her men continued to sing about dainty ladies and human heroes. Some of the soldiers poked and squeezed at what few women Guardsmen were around, and though it was true that soldiers of the opposite sex were held to them at a different light, like treasures, Treatise regarded them all as pebbles in a bag of sand.
What ingredients were in the cauldron started to boil. The smell was fragrant, and carried over the circle of Guardsmen and wafted an aroma of savory vegetables and strewn beef around. This aroused a slowly growing amount of silence around them all, and when their song ended, Guardsmen huddled close to the fire and embraced their preparing meal with closed eyes and clasped hands, heads lowered to face the ground. Excitos followed after their Grimms, and all joined in on prayer to Panymisian, though Treatise simply loomed with a gentle frown on her face, minding the cauldron, quietly muttering to herself the chant in a less inclined tone.
"...Panyma oversees. She is Great, she is Good-- let us thank Her for our food and thank Her for this day of prayer. Bless this food, and this troop. Gratias."
All raised their head in unison, and a few gathered behind the back of the wagons and prepared a large collection of bowls and spoons, metal and wood alike. A few Excitos rushed over to where cooking implements were, hefting up spoons and dishes to give to their Grimms, while others dragged bowls against Ald's dirt floor during their trek in the process. Serving was methodical, and Treatise's mind wandered from reality until she heard the soft patter of footsteps to her side.
The Shield glanced over to her side and stared at Maeve, momentarily blank of expression until a grin swept over her features. She noticed the wafting smell of death linger around the area, now, and a few Excitos poked their heads up from the fray of Grimms towards Maeve as well, though a few dropped their inclination to stare when their focus shifted towards her missing limb.
Treatise stood up from the group of now-feasting Guardsmen and nervous Excitos towards the mercenary, however, eyes intent on the Mishkanite's face then to the rest of her. She had prepared for her meeting-- her clothes smelled clean. The sword at her side wasn't new, but in fact used-- the woman knew how to use a sword-- an espada ropera, a cheap sword, but tricky to use wisely. Treatise tilted her head to the side, for a moment-- though short of stature, Miss la Chance stood with her black straight, shoulders taut, all while her expression seemed relatively calm around another's presence.
"Interesting," she muttered.
"Miss la Chance," The Plague General extended an arm out toward Maeve-- a simple test, for trust, "I assume. I am sure you already know who I am, but I shall greet myself as Plague General Treatise nevertheless."
She bowed, then ushered towards the feasting men behind her, then the wagons. "I am afraid this is what little I can show of the Imperial Guard at the moment, but you are amongst trusted men here. Grimms and Plagues exist as soldiers equal in strength under my wing-- something I, perhaps, failed to fully described in the letter. Perhaps we can talk about your decisions over stew."
The blacksmith that had escorted Treatise moments ago glanced up from his ravenous consumption of stew and towards the two women at the front. "Come on, then, b'fore ye have tae eat the boiler instead."
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Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2012 5:21 pm
Blithe stories, songs and jokes filled the air and Maeve wasn't sure what to make of it. It was pleasant, to say the least. Then, a prayer for Panyma-- a prayer Maeve had not heard in quite some time. Thanking Her for their food was more nostalgic than the feelings of the camp itself. It had been even longer since Maeve last prayed or uttered any words about Panyma. Her faith disappeared along with her arm all those years ago.
Once the prayer was finished, the eating could begin, and all the little Excitos seemed to want to help. Seeing them run to and fro excitedly for their Grimms was, well, adorable. Excitos gave a strange sort of comfort to the mercenary woman. In the back of her mind, she hoped Lucky was well and safe after the incident in the theatre. She remembered catching a glimpse of him, but did not spy Coyotl in the fray. This was no time for daydreams, and the frantic actions of the Excitos came to a halt. They were looking at her.
Finally noticed, Maeve became a thing of attention rather than the food being served. And there was Treatise, approaching her... A grin across her face, but a welcoming one, not of maliciousness. Still, it was worrying to be greeted by a smile. Most people came to Maeve for work; no one was particularly happy to see her. The Plague General even extended a hand to Maeve-- her left hand! This woman was different. She had not fretted about what to do or accidentally offer her right hand to Maeve; the Plague knew exactly what to do.
Maeve took her hand into her own and gave her a firm handshake with a strong grip. Weak and delicate handshakes were a thing of long past-- Maeve had to prove her strength. With that welcome, the Plague General introduced herself with an air of politeness and one of business. She even bowed to Maeve and led her toward the men eating. The smell was now close and clear what it was: stew. Stew was Maeve's favorite food in all of Panymium and here it was at this place full of nostalgia. The mercenary half-wondered if this was somehow set up to cater to her background, but how would they even know? Perhaps this was fate.
"Perhaps we can talk about your decisions over stew."
It truly was fate. "Stew would be nice," Maeve stated, looking at Treatise head on. Her eyes were so wild, but she looked so human and acted so human. Plagues did not seem that different from herself after all.
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Posted: Tue Feb 28, 2012 8:57 pm
Treatise bowed her head, grinning. "Then stew there shall be." The Plague General turned around and walked briskly back to her troop's ring of caravans.
The presence of both her and Maeve had enough power to make a few merrily singing men scuttle nearer to each other to make room for the two women. Treatise gestured towards the seat beside her own before sitting down herself. Her gaze was when concentrated on across from her at the burly man, who was in charge of handling the stew, until a couple of Excitos bopped against her leg repeatedly. When she glanced down, two groups of Excitos, all of different alignments, offered both Maeve and Treatise two bowls of stew, filled to the brim with broiled vegetables, beef, and bubbling broth.
"Thank you." Treatise took her bowl of stew and the group of Excitos scampered off towards their respective allies and Grimms, clamoring onto their legs and scuttling up their shoulders to their rightful place. The Plague General set the bowl of soup momentarily onto the ground-- which set off a rather menacing scowl from her blacksmith friend-- and shifted to her side to better face Maeve.
Music thrummed through the crowd in louder numbers, and though it was hard to ignore the loud cacophony of men with their stew and ale, Treatise spoke clearly enough to hush some who were nearer to where the two women sat.
"Stew aside, Miss LaChance, my fellow Guardsmen and I were wondering if you had any queries. Before you make your decision, of course, and I'm sure your mercenary background was rather skeptical at first of the Guardsmen contacting you for a permanent seat within our ranks. It is not rare for mercenaries to turn to the Imperial Guard-- quite a number of my troop here happen to be from mercenary guilds across Panymium."
"If anythin', they give y'more proper equipment, the Imperial Guard, other'n those damn mercenary guilds 'n their horrible weapons," a man said next to Treatise. He leaned on her back and laughed, nudging Treatise's shoulder with his mug of ale, "Of course, Plague General Treatise here is softer on us'n General Kunze. She would cut out those pretty eyes of hers over seeing someone as low as a private be fed to Obscuvos."
Treatise glared at the man, and he backed away to resume his discourse with other fellow Guardsmen. She continued, "And it is true that I come to you now as a Plague General, as Private Stephen has said, without the General by my side-- but I swear to you the supposed divide between our men will never obstruct from the Guard's only goal, to protect the Empire." Her eyes narrowed, "It is only the General and I's perspectives of what must change that have now seemed to clash. If you question the Imperial Guard's actions at the accident in Helios... I shall answer to the best of my ability."
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Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2012 12:02 pm
The Plague General had offered a seat to Maeve, which she would most assuredly take. But rather than standing tall above Maeve, Treatise sat down beside her. An amazing gesture and not to be taken lightly. To treat Maeve as an equal, rather than some peon was a good showing of character. Maeve crossed her legs carefully and set her hand in her lap. Before getting down to conversation, the little Excitos appeared!
They had come to deliver the stew right to Treatise and herself. Maeve reached down, grabbing hold of the bowl, smirking at them. "Thank you," she mimed. With that, the Excitos scurried back to their Grimms happily. The stew felt so warm in her hands and the aroma was too good to ignore! She lifted the bowl up to her face and-- oh no, Treatise was addressing her. She hadn't meant to be so rude, but it was so enticing. Without taking a sip, the bowl was sent back to her lap.
Treatise was quite serious-sounding, yet reassuring. It made sense that other mercenaries might turn to the Imperial Guard. A man chimed in to support the Anhelo, and his points were valid. The Imperial Guard would always have the best weapons and better organization than a mercenary guild could ever dream of. But the thought of actually working for the Imperial Guard left a lump in Maeve's throat. Royalty and politics sounded more messy than the life of a mercenary.
"...to protect the Empire."
Such simple words hit Maeve. Wasn't that what she longed for in the first place? A way to protect those who could not protect themselves. That dream had been killed-- destroyed by years of working. And now that same dream was back to taunt her. It felt like false promises and idiotic hope. Maeve did not want to set herself up for disappointment again, but... what exactly was Maeve living for? Treatise talked of the divide between their men, the climate of the world, and the incident at the theatre. Nothing was particularly invigorating and motivating Maeve to join the Imperial Guard, but maybe she could be swayed. Perhaps, Maeve wanted to be swayed so she could have meaning in her life again.
"It's hard," Maeve paused, gathering her words, "to think of a proper question for you to answer. I have many questions about the events in Helios..." For someone who had so many questions, Maeve didn't think they were entirely worth asking. "What I would like to know, General Treatise, is if you'd go against direct orders in order to protect the Empire?" Maeve waited for an answer, watching the Plague's lips. A genuine question, and one Maeve found more relevant to her own feelings. She could not join the Imperial Guard if she had no choice but to follow every order. Maeve could not stand those without their own moral compass-- just following orders would be an excuse she could never accept.
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Posted: Sat Oct 06, 2012 5:44 pm
Helios. Treatise grimaced, but the frown was followed by a knowing (though bitter) smile, for she hadn't forgotten the very base of why the letter to Miss la Chance was written in the first place. She had promised many answers to many peoples surrounding those events, though a summarization of her answers were hard to believe: she knew little what the Emperor was planning, and, while of dissenting opinions on the matter, neither did her Grimm and General of Panymium.
Some chose to believe, though others did not, and she could not blame them. Maeve's answer on the matter would allow Treatise to deduce whether she'd swear fealty to the Guard or not, but before she could pose the question, Maeve came to her with her own.
"What I would like to know, General Treatise, is if you'd go against direct orders in order to protect the Empire?"
Treatise laughed, almost too easily, and answered simply: "Surely."
The Guardsmen around them remained silent for a few moments, until continuing with what conversations they had going before Maeve had posed such a tantalizing question. Treatise sat the bowl of stew safely down next to her, on the ground, and breathed in the eastern breeze in contemplation. "Certainly. Many people believe that Emperor Rine VII was called the Green King for his vanity, but I believe he was called as such for his new ideals, his revolutionary ways. I remember hearing about him from General Kunze, as an Excitos: that where Rine VIII is young in age, Rine VII was young in ideals. The Green King founded the Imperial Guard to protect the Emperor and the Empire, indeed, and invited what tides of change came to Panymium with open arms. He... despised his Advisers, he went against the nobles' will."
She glanced at Maeve, "For that, the Green King is the subject of many tales of folly, but I still saw those stories as ones of a hero. Perhaps Diedthelm-- ah, General Kunze-- might regret his decisions now, to read me those stories when I was just beginning to understand what I felt was right... but Rine VII's teachings have stuck with me ever since. If I must go with the tide, I shall do so myself, and eagerly so, even if historians will forget me for never building a dam."
Treatise paused, thinking and tinkering with what she had just said in her mind, and she bowed her head down. Flustered, she continued, "Ah... I'm sorry, perhaps my answer was too vague. I lament often about Rine VII, you see, but my loyalty is subject to his ideals."
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Posted: Sun Oct 07, 2012 9:41 am
A laugh was not what Maeve had been expecting. There had been laughter and chatter surrounding her this evening, but none from the General herself. She wasn't entirely sure if it were appropriate laughter, either. Maeve wondered briefly if her question had been a silly one-- one with an obvious answer. The mercenary sat rather still and listened to Treatise (ignoring her stew), hoping that her explanation would clarify her laughter.
Rather than a concise explanation, the Anhelo spoke of her fondness for Rine VII... at great lengths. The way she talked of him was the way a boy talked of heroes in fairy tales. While endearing on some level, Maeve had no real interest in Treatise's fascination with Rine VII. She supposed that the initial one word answer accompanied by laughter was the more welcome response than this.
Realizing what she had done, it looked as if the Plague General was embarrassed with herself! It was an action that Maeve appreciated, at the very least. Someone who could realize when they were getting caught up in things were far better than the people who'd go on forever about nothing.
Maeve breathed deeply, trying to take in more of the sea air before she spoke again. "It is alright," she forgave Treatise. The General would follow her own values before blindly following another's-- and even if Maeve disagreed with those values, it was a noble attitude.
A decidedly serious expression crossed Maeve's face, and rather than look to the Anhelo, her gaze turned to the fire. "Helios." A long pause followed that single word, as if to build tension. "I want to know what happened. Exactly. It was absolute chaos; a trap to draw Grimms in to steal away their Plagues. Was the Emperor and his advisors working with others-- the Guard?"
She recalled the yelling and panic amongst all sides and factions, but there were those devout to the Emperor and his ill wishes. Those slaughtered by Plagues, and the Plagues murdered in kind. "Who is to say that this won't be attempted again? The next time, the Emperor would use absolute brute force, I fear."
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Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2012 2:46 am
The blacksmith from across Maeve sucked at the remaining stew left on his spoon-- he'd already finished two bowls and a skimpy third serving. "You must understand that Treatise is a Plague, lass. Her mind is filled with many books and no writers."
Treatise glared at him, but did not disagree, as was shown by a subtle smile.
She stared into the fire alongside Maeve as the subject of Helios came to mind once again. She looked at the blacksmith, who in turn glared at a few soldiers that (reluctantly) made their leave for deeper into the Imperial cargo. They knew what to seach for, it seemed, and while the numbers had dwindled a bit the singing was as uproarious as before.
"Yes. The meeting itself was horrendous, I was given much information before the proceedings. All we knew was that it involved the Grimm and a Helian theatre. General Kunze performed his first Empiric vigil, and I was to replace him as General for the night. We had surrounded the theater before anyone had arrived, as is protocol in any Helian institution. 'No one must enter before the performance on December 29th' was the message in particular. It was given to us by an advisor of Helios.
"The Fellowship and Council felt was wronged as the Grimms on the theaters, I feel, but I do not know if General Kunze feels the same level of misdeed. Did he know of this earlier? That much he refuses to tell me, and he has every right to do so, as a Plague General is not liable in any human political matter."
The soldiers that had left before returned with a few parcles, which Treatise took with quiet thanks. She handed a few to Maeve.
"But such is the vague answer on the involvement of other parties. But a part of me is very certain that this will not be attempted again, and if it comes to the case, not by the Emperor. And if the action is not repeated by the Emperor, it will receive no aid from the Imperial Guard. I will explain those thoughts after this:"
She laid down the parchment papers on the ground, near enough to the fire for the writing to be clear. To the left of the columns were regions, and to the right, names.
"These or only three, but there are 10 papers in all that consist of every Grimm known to the Panymese Empire. There are thousands of them named here.
Treatise looked to Maeve. "Given that information, what of the meeting in Helios seems particularly strange?"
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