[C] Macaire Draughn (A)

[LoveByLetters]

Macaire Draughn and Cadence

--- PROFILE: a summary of a soldier
--- THE ANIMALS: a description of his heart's delights
--- THE CHOOSING: how it happened that a myth drove him mad
--- MACAIRE'S THREADS: what he's been up to
--- POSSIBILITIES: where he might be found
--- THE ROBIN'S COLORS: in Macaire's own words, how the robin got his red chest
--- SKIBBEREEN: Macaire's favorite song to sing when drunk to the gills

{Macaire -- Nortier -- Rosemarie -- Harmon -- Ghastly --The Friedrichs -- Georgios -- Ivon Skelet -- Lisette}

 

[LoveByLetters]

NAME Macaire Draughn
AGE 28
OCCUPATION Private guardsman, bouncer for taverns, dockhand when desperate.
FAMILY Said to have an elder brother, whom he describes as "off fighting somewhere." Comes from an old military family, though the current generation is not particularly distinguished or well known.

POSITIVES Fair-minded, intelligent, caring
NEUTRALS Inquisitive, courteous
NEGATIVE Introverted, overly cautious

APPEARANCE Macaire is very physically intimidating, standing a good head and shoulders above most men, with broad shoulders, large feet, and wide, calloused hands. There is nothing pretty or decorative about his powerful build, which is obviously due to a life of hard work. Though a slight softness in his face and thick, fluffy brown hair ought to gentle his appearance, he is also heavily scarred in a way that seems to speak of a life of constant violence. He wears dark, sturdy clothing, kept up only insofar as it is required of him; depending on the state of his purse the quality can vary. His shirt and breeks may have patches, tears, or old stains, but he does keep up and scrupulously care for his weapons and the light pieces of armor that he often wears during the course of his duties.

Freckles are scattered indifferently across his body, and are in fact a further mark against him -- they mark him, along with the occasional glimpse of red in his dark hair, as being from the Wardwood equivalent of Ireland. Peasants there are protesting, often violently, against vast religious and economic disparities. Some factions are trying to coax other countries to help them attack Sunderland itself, though these attempts have not yet been successful and it is unlikely that they will ever be.

Nonetheless, the uneasy state of his home country and the knowledge that it is the center of violent protests with an especial enmity towards Sunderland can contribute to Macaire's intimidating aura.

PERSONALITY A surprisingly cautious fellow, especially where relationships with others are concerned, Macaire is thoughtful and something of a worrier. Even in rowdy social situations he keeps quietly to himself, observing others with a bemused expression on his face, as if he isn't entirely sure what is going on at any given time.

Of course, given his appearance, his tendency to introspection is often mistaken for a sort of arrogance.

Nonetheless Macaire tries his best to overcome his intimidating persona when presented with the opportunity to do so; he is courteous to all, even the most lowly, and exceedingly gentle around children and women. When drawn into conversation, he is often upbeat and optimistic about the future.

SKILLS Well trained and experienced in fighting, especially in situations where he is out-numbered or expected to hold his ground and protect a place or a person. Fights well with simple weapons (pike, plain sword), makeshift weapons (anything at hand), or no weapons (tavern brawling). Can read and write in more than one language.

HISTORY As his appearance suggests, Macaire is not native to Sunderland. Traditionally his family have always been soldiers, sometimes rising to prominence, sometimes not. The current generation consists of a sprawling set of relations living in a small town not particularly known for its involvement in the resistance movement popular with much of the country. The Draughns can be considered well-to-do, but the large size of their family is straining their budgets and fraying their tempers. Many members of the family are interested in becoming involved in the resistance movement despite the fact that the current political reforms do not specifically target the Draughns themselves. There is some dispute amongst the family due to this, with other family members advising caution in such an explosive political climate.

Macaire himself finds that politics make him uneasy, and has always done his best to distance himself from them, voicing an opinion only when absolutely necessary. This inclination may be part of the reason behind his desire to travel to other lands, though it is hard to say why he would come to Sunderland, of all places.

Like nearly every male in his family, he was involved with a nearby militia from a very young age. Since that time he has learned that his appearance and reputation give him a certain cachet, and has enjoyed a series of relatively easier positions as a guardsman for merchants and noblemen.  

[LoveByLetters]

Cadence



What social qualities Macaire lacks, Cadence seems to have in abundance. He appears to love everyone, absolutely everyone, with enthusiasm and determination. Drawn to all sorts of people, he will inevitably drag his Chosen into social situations which Macaire would otherwise have avoided at all costs. Beyond this puppy-like joy in others, Cadence shows a streak of cleverness which Macaire regards as utterly inappropriate for a Guardian, given to small pranks, harmless thefts, and snuggling up to pretty women in a way that makes Macaire turn red and babble in desperation.

Mo Múirnín


After hanging a sprig of mistletoe he received from a friend in his window, a tiny bird began to build a small nest on Macaire's windowsill. As the nights have gotten colder, he has more and more often left his window open just a few inches, so that the tiny bright gem has somewhere warm to go should the cold grow too harsh.

He calls her, when she is brave enough to listen, his sweet one, his darling, his Mo Múirnín, and if she is skittish to accept his gifts of seeds, he does not seem to mind.

 

[LoveByLetters]

THE CHOOSING

{background music}

Motherland, cradle me --
Close my eyes, lullaby me to sleep.
Keep me safe, lie with me --
Stay beside me, don't go.

In the dream there is a tree: he remembers green and gold, the sun dappled ground beneath his feet, and a point of light on one of the branches that he cannot look away from. Just days after his arrival in Palisade the dream wakes him up one night, the whole of him in a cold sweat with a fear he cannot name. He does not go hunting for work that day -- he drinks himself into a stupor, like a man much older, and does not leave his rented room. It's just -- just a tree. Just a dream.

But memory of the dream chases after him, itches at him, haunts him. The tree and the point of light. The tree and the point of light.

Come on shotgun bride, what makes me envy your life--
The faceless, the nameless, the innocent, the blameless and free:
What's that like to be?

Over a week after his arrival in the booming city, with his money fast running out, Macaire packs up his few meager belongings and trudges out of the city that he so desired to call home. With every step his pain eases just a little further, but his fear grows. Just a tree. Just a dream and a strange obsession until he finds himself in a forest that some part of him finds familiar, until his feet find the proper path and he turns the bend to face it.

The tree. He hardly notices that there are ornaments hanging all over it, each with its own pattern and colors, because there's one as has caught the sunlight, and that's the one that catches his eye, as the setting sun flickers over its shine.

It's your happiness I want most of all,
And for that I'd do anything at all.
If you want the best of life and the most of love,
If there is anything I can do at all.

On his homeward journey he begins to wonder if he is haunted or mad. Later he will hardly remember the stumbling trip through the wood, only the relief he'd felt when he crossed back into Palisade. The relief that he could spend the last of his coin on hard liquor and pray he would forget: forget, even as he found a little strip of leather and wound it thrice around the tiny wooden charm, then tied the strap around his neck.

Motherland, cradle me --
Close my eyes, lullaby me to sleep.
Keep me safe, lie with me --
Stay beside me, don't go.  

[LoveByLetters]

Macaire's Threads

On the Road Again {with Warwick} |complete|
in which Macaire travels into Sunderland, meets a gypsy, and expresses doubt that Guardians exist

Failure to be Unobtrusive {with Rajani} |complete|
in which the soldier attends a performance and showers the gypsy with compliments, and still doesn't believe in Guardians

What a Man {with Eluf} |complete|
in which a desperate man tries to gain advice from a passing Chosen and instead finds himself driven to distraction

Tis Sairrow They Stand for in Airelund {ORP}
in which a frantic Macaire tries to drown his woes in drink, and failing that staggers through the streets singing old ballads

Chewed On Flowers {with Warwick} |complete|
in which a wholly apologetic Macaire gets drunk, begs forgiveness, asks for advice, and gets embarrassed by his Guardian

Bloody Minded Little Buggers {with Rajani} |complete|
in which Macaire is again apologetic and introduces his new Guardian to an old friend, then proposes training

"Jest run him through, me lad." {ORP}
in which Macaire is caught training a very silly Guardian and tries not to seem scary to a pair of young things

Return to Palisade {with Talbot}
in which our soldier meets a captain, and feels he has finally met someone who understands his fears

Nobbles and Novels {with Alexei and Anna} |complete|
in which the would-be author gathers his courage and speaks to nobility, and is torn between shock, embarrassment, and fascination

Getting to Know You {with Eluf} |complete|
in which Macaire is further besotted with a shy chosen and learns that he is not robbing the cradle after all

Training {with Rajani} |complete|
in which our soldier proves that he has indeed trained for war and attempts to train his gypsy friend

Shared Roots {with Faye} |complete|
in which Macaire quickly becomes wrapped around a tiny Chosen's fingers, and tells her about their homeland

Coffee, Carrots, and Sudden Collusions {with Faye} |complete|
in which Macaire is attacked, first with hugs, then uncomfortable questions about wolves

Let Me Be Your Shelter {with Eluf} |complete|
in which Macaire reacts (poorly) to his Guardian's awakening and is taken home

So You Want to Build an Army {with Rajani & Siobhan}
in which Macaire is made privy to certain plans regarding the future

Out of Place and Out of Line {with Patrek & the Freds}
in which a fawn climbs in Macaire's window, and he finds it is worth waking up for to make a new friend  

[LoveByLetters]

Possibilities

Often Found
Macaire spends his daylight hours working as a guard for a jewel merchant, busily looking intimidating and frowning meaningfully at people who try to cheat him. He lives above a bakeshop that specializes in delicate, expensive pastries for the wealthy, "guarding" it merely by living there. When he is not either of these places he is often sneaking off to train the ever-excitable Cadence or buying Cadence flowers to eat. In quieter times he loves to read, write, and catalog bits of songs he feels reflects the strange people of Sunderland, but of late has had little time for such pleasantries, devoting a larger share of his time to providing for Cadence.

Opportunities
He's drawn by Chosen and their Guardians, and interested especially in those that genuinely believe that the wolves are coming. He enjoys children and will often speak to them, and most certainly will step up to protect them if the need arises. He is awkward and respectful around nobles and generally won't approach them unless he's called to do so.

He can be caught practicing with Cadence .. or chasing him down the street, shouting curses. Hedgewitches make him a little nervous, and he treats them as he would nobles, with an excess of respect no matter their age or status. He can always be counted on to help others with training with their Guardians for what he believes is an eventual and inevitable war.

The Dreaming
Cadence is a little loony. He loves and trusts everyone. ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE. He acts like he's been hopped up on sugar all the time. When he grows up, he'll be able to preform his duties with a thin veneer of seriousness -- in truth, he is serious about them, but he just doesn't see the need to act solemn. At the moment, though, he's just a big silly.

Breeding the Loony
YES PLEASE. I can't imagine I'd refuse anyone for a pairing, really.  

[LoveByLetters]

Why Do Robins Have Red Chests?

It is only when in his cups--or sitting across from a child--that the old soldier can be coaxed into telling such tales as they ought to be told, with feeling and a sort of sincerity that makes every single word seem true. He clutches his mug in the dim and smokey tavern, eyeing his audience speculatively as he begins.

"Sae many years ago that none know when 'twas, a crool crool wind blew through thonder Wardwood, making the night sae bitter and cold e'en the spirits of the trees took shelter and would nae come out. But there were a boy who had traveled far tae be there, and still had farther tae go, for he sought the tree that were at center of thonder Wood. These were auld, auld times, sae though he sought a cottage, a barn, nor e'en a wee likkle hollow, there were none tae be found.

"Sae he built a fire tae warm him, and tae kip the dark at bay, and done his best tae stay awake tae tend it. But oh! It were sae, sae cold! His wee eyes got lower, his wee head got lower .. and yon fire got lower!" His voice raises with the repetition, making each word taunt with suspense.

"Sae low," he continues, almost whispering now, "that a wulf drew near, and looked on yon wee likkle lad with hunger in his crool eyes." Macaire pauses, as if expecting a gasp, but will plunge forward nonetheless a moment later.

"But though the wee bairn be sleeping, there were one who were awake, a likkle bird who were as gray as the brambly wood hidden in the bushes nearby. The bird were fair angry at yon wulf, who had et his bairns from they very nest in spring, and were determined that nae mair bairns be et, nae matter they were birds nor people. Sae the bird flew down and began fanning yon embers until the flames grew high and hot -- nor did the bird stop, e'en when the fire brushed his chest, e'en though he was like tae call out in pain!

"And yon wulf saw the fire and were afraid, and ran -- and from that day the Robin were proud of his red chest." Bringing the tale to a close, Macaire leans back in his seat with a pleased smile, thumping his chest to add emphasis to the satisfactory ending.

|Based on this story, although there are dozens of variants--that the Robin stained it singing to Jesus on the cross, that he scorched it fanning a fire to keep baby Jesus warm, etc ad nasuem.|  

[LoveByLetters]

Revenge for Skibbereen

Son:
O, father dear I oftimes hear you speak of Aireland's shore;
Her lofty scenes, her valleys green, her mountains high do soar --
They say it is a lovely land wherein a prince might dwell,
So why did you abandon it, the reason me to tell.

Father:
My son, I loved my native land with energy and pride,
Till a blight came over all the land and right and left we died.
The wolves had came from Wardwood wild spreading fear and pain --
And that's the reason I do fear we shan't see home again.

'Tis well do I remember that bleak cold autumn day.
When came the wolves in growling packs to drive us all away.
No longer were our valleys dear so rich and green;
O the darkness that had fallen on my dear old Skibbereen.

Your mother, too, Gods rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground.
Taken by them beasts what roamed all over Aireland round.
In pain and fear she pass't away from life to hallow'd lands,
And the mercy she did beg of me I gave with my own hands.

Then sadly I recall the days of that winter's blight --
I rose in vengeance with the boys to battle in the night.
We were hunted throu' the mountains as if all were a game;
No matter how we rallied they killed us all the same.

O ye were only six years old and feeble was your frame;
I coul' not leave ye with me friends for ye bore our family name.
So I wrapped you in my cóta mór at the dead of night unseen --
And it broke me heart but I said goodbye to dear old Skibbereen.

Son:
Well father, dear, the day has come when on vengeance we may call:
The Gods have answered all our prayers, and will not let us fall.
They give to us their wee ones dear, and though frail they may seem;
'Tis the Guardians of Warding Wood t'will save Skibbereen.

On them will ride Aire's men so brave, stout and tall;
And when yon wolves they face, t'will be such a brawl!
Back to thonder snowy peaks, them that's left will flee;
Leaving fair Aireland from their dairkness finally free.

Father:
O let us go to Skibbereen with yon Guardians brave --
And the rolling hills and valleys green let us do save.
And once we have, mayhap will find the old farm again;
And settle ye upon it with a lass to bear some bairns.

Son:
Nay Father, I will no more look for a bonny bride;
For no other then me Guardian will ever walk by me side.
No cottage I will build, no one place I'll call home;
In thonder foothills cold and bleak forever we shall roam.

A Guardian must guard, and wolves may one day wake;
And another of Aire's lives we will not let them take.
But tell them all I lead the men beneath Aire's flag of green,
How loud and high I raised the cry "Revenge for Skibbereen!"

NOTE: This is based off of an actual Irish ballad, and yes, there really is a town named "Skibbereen!" The original song is much shorter, and tells the story of the Irish famine, not the wolves of Wardwood.