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Author Topic: Ghosts of the Past  (Read 27016 times)

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Offline Bynw

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #405 on: May 16, 2018, 12:02:30 pm »
Feyd has enjoyed the hospitality of King Kelson that is granted to foreign Lords as he has moved amoung the people of Rhemuth, in and out of the castle.

Using his credentials of a Forcinn Lord and Patron of learning, he has spent much time among the academia in and out of the Palace. Haunting both the Royal Library and the schools of the city.

Lord Collos d'Chameaux of Vezaire, as he is called, knows the ins and outs of the Palace. And the best places for an ambush of the young Morgan.

Too bad the Lady Aliset is cloistered in the Queen's Court. She too would be a great prize to bring back. But then again he wasn't hired to bring her to the Grand Duke. So it doesn't matter at all. That is someone else's problem.

No his quarry this time in Rhemuth is Washburn Alaric Cynfyn Mogan. Youngest son of the Late Duke of Corwyn Alaric Anthony Morgan and the brother of the current Duke. Who at this time is on his way to Ratharkin to put down the Grand Duke's rebellion in Meara. But Washburn is safe in Rhemuth.

Offline revanne

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #406 on: May 17, 2018, 12:45:45 pm »
In the royal council chamber Richard Kirby swallowed uncomfortably. Duke Dhugal had implied that the King would not appreciate him incriminating himself, or revealing that many ships, sailing blamelessly on the business of the lords that funded them, carried other cargo to supplement their income. How else were men to be recompensed for the dangerous business of having the sea for a mistress? The "old grey widow-maker" some called her, and rightly too.

But now the King had called on him openly and he must answer. He looked to his Ducal master for guidance but Dhugal was staring fixedly at his father, who equally strangely was refusing to meet his son's gaze. But there was a way to be both open and discreet, and he blessed the powers that made that possible, though many, even now, regarded them as cursed.

He stood and bowed to the King.

"Your Majesty. I fear I cannot answer your request." Ignoring the sharp intake of breath that went around the room, he continued,  "Quite simply, I do not know, though I can make a good guess at which ships might be carrying such cargo. I beg, though that you will not impute an intention of treason unless such can be proven."

He risked a look at the King's face but that remained impassive, not suggesting blame but giving no encouragement either. With no further word he rose from his place and came before the throne, dropping to his knees with the deliberation of a supplicant.

"I beg of you, Sire, read the information that I have, and act on it as you will." He looked his King straight in the eye before bowing his head and inviting the royal touch. ((Kelson reads Richard's mind, rolling advantage because of Kelson's skill and Richard's openness. 1+4+3=8. 6jtxkxh79c. Ah well)).

Kelson paused for a long minute, then taking care to make no physical contact, reached towards Kirby's hand, signalling that he should rise. The other, feeling no touch either on his head or in his mind, lifted his gaze to see that the king was now smiling, though gravely.

"Thank you, Richard. But I should feel shamed if my trust in you was not as great as your trust in me. It will be enough if you can convey any suspicions you have to Dhugal. I cannot promise immunity, if there is reason to believe that treachery to our crown has knowingly been committed, but rest assured that now is not the time to otherwise impose the full weight of the law on those loyal to us."

Kelson deliberately spoke his foster's brothers name loudly and Dhugal pulled his gaze round to meet the king with an apologetic bow of his head. Kelson gestured to Kirby to be seated, he bowed deeply and complied, saying as he did so,

"I should also have a fair idea of the ports they are likely to be sailing between, and I dare promise that most of their captains would co-operate willingly once they know the wickedness of the purpose to which their cargoes are to be put. With your Majesty's leave I will prepare a letter, instructing all such ships that they are to co-operate fully."

"Do so, with our good will." Kelson thought it wise not to elaborate further on the forebearance that would follow such co-operation and if any thought that they heard the royal lips mutter the words "Fianna red", they were equally wise enough to feign deafness.

"Before we turn to the retaking of Ratharkin" Kelson was continuing to the room at large, when he was interrupted without ceremony by Duke Angus,

"And take vengeance on the bloody murdering traitors!"

"Those responsible will be pay the appropriate penalty but I would prefer to avoid as much as possible creating further martyrs for the future. Let justice be done, but vengeance is best left to the Almighty." At the tone of Kelson's voice Duncan lifted his head for the first time knowing that the King was thinking of his first Mearan campaign so many years ago when he had let his anger, justified though it was, get the better of him. He forbear to speak, however and in any any case was given no opportunity as Kelson continued,

"Before we turn to the retaking of Ratharkin, we must give thought to Laas. Rory and Brecon are still there as are the men of the garrison. All else have been evacuated, by the good graces of the Hort, but the townsfolk have no such recourse. We can only bring a very limited number the same way, and reinforcement by land, even from the Connait may not be possible if all the countryside is raised against us."

Kelson slammed his hand onto the table with such force that everyone jumped. "How did we let this happen! I should be flogged for negligence. Or replaced as a foolish old man."

Javan, Dhugal and Brendan, amongst others, all tried to speak at once but were silenced as Kelson drew a depth breath and held up his hands for quiet.

"Be that as it may, and Rory and I hopefully can soon argue at leisure as to which of us is the more to blame, it gets us nowhere. I apologise for lapsing into self-indulgence. Dhugal and Richard, how soon and how many boats can you get to Laas?"

With a nod from Dhugal, Richard Kirby answered. "As to numbers, Sire, twenty boats each carrying between eighty and a hundred men. The fiery cross went out some days ago and the clansmen have been quick to answer. Many make their living as much by fishing as crofting, so the sea is not unknown to them.The first boats, perhaps as many as ten, could leave today, the rest as the men come into Ballymar. As to time, with the wind from the ocean to the west, as it mostly is, we can make it work for us much of the way, unless a storm should blow up. Four days at best, a week at worst. Do you concur, my Lord?"

Dhugal replied. "I know better than to question your knowledge, Richard. The main problem is horses; we have few war horses, and the men could not ride them if we did. Still, mountain ponies may be better anyway, in Meara. And with your leave Sire, we might be advised to retain some boats and men, say five out of the twenty, in case any others try to bring troops in by sea. Sad I am to say it but we cannot rule out a link with Torenth."

Kelson said nothing to this last remark but sat in silence for a while. "Aye, do as you say. Dhugal I shall need your further counsel but now take Richard back to Ballymar. And thank you both for your preparedness."

Both men took this as their dismissal and turned to the royal presence to make their reverences, Dhugal with a deep bow and Richard dropping briefly to one knee, before leaving the room.






"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God...The Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us and we have seen His glory, full of Grace and truth."
Prologue to John's Gospel

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #407 on: May 18, 2018, 01:06:05 pm »
Lady Aliset tried very hard to lose herself in the words the priest recited for the mass, but her mind kept drifting in other directions.  She had purposely held her emotions in check during her flight from Caer Mariot, so they could not distract her from her goal of reaching Rhemuth.  But now, unbidden in the peacefulness of the royal chapel, memories and emotions returned.  Memories of her father and brothers, especially Alister, who had given his life, so she might escape.  She felt tears forming in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away.  Princess Araxandra must have sensed her discomfort; she reached across and briefly squeezed Aliset’s hand in reassurance.  The mass should have been comforting, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect.

After the mass, Aliset walked with Araxandra and Grania back to the Queen’s Tower to gather embroidery or other projects to work on while enjoying the Queen’s Garden.  Aliset turned down the kind offer of a piece of needlework and instead selected the book of poetry her man-at-arms had given her.  The memory of his laughter made her smile despite her earlier thoughts.

Princess Araxandra saw the brief smile.  “Is your smile for the book or the young man who gave it to you?”  she asked.

‘Probably both,” Aliset replied, blushing slightly.  “I know I can depend on him no matter how dire the circumstances.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about dire circumstances in Rhemuth,” Araxandra replied.  “Though I wish I could say the same for the rest of the kingdom.  Come, let us go outside and try to enjoy the day while we can.”

Once in the Queen’s garden, Aliset drifted away from the other ladies and chose to sit on the bench near the low garden wall.  From here she could see the great hall beyond the lovely flowers.  Leaning back against the wall, she leafed through the book and decided to start with the Saga of Sigrun.

***

Lord Jaxom Trillick strode out from the great hall and headed toward the Queen’s Garden.  The absence of that counterfeit lord Darcy was to his advantage in pursuing his intentions for the Lady Aliset, and he did not intend to waste the opportunity.  He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t see the man approaching him until he collided with him.  Started, he found himself looking into the face of one of the many foreign dignitaries that frequented King Kelson’s court. 

“Beg pardon,” the man said, bowing slightly. “I did not see you approach.”

“No harm done,” Jaxom replied somewhat brusquely and moved aside to continue.  The man fell into step beside him.   

“We seem to be heading in the same direction,” the man said with a disarming smile as he touched Jaxom’s wrist.

Jaxom’s eyes went blank, and he continued to walk unquestioning beside the foreign dignitary until they reached a secluded spot at the edge of the courtyard.  Moments later he emerged alone and resumed his walk to the Queen’s Garden, looking like his former determined self.  He did not notice the new signet ring on his right forefinger.

***

“My Lady,” Lord Jaxom said cheerfully from the other side of the garden wall that separated him from Aliset as he bowed.

Aliset tried to hide her annoyance at the unwanted intrusion and nodded politely.  “Lord Jaxom.  As you can see I am spending the morning with the queen and her ladies.”  She hoped he would take the hint and leave.

“Is it a good book you are reading?” he asked, reaching across to touch her hand to turn the book toward him.

Thoroughly annoyed, Aliset snatched her hand back, barely noticing the scratch from Jaxom’s ring. 

Suddenly, Aliset’s world seemed to collapse around her.  Her Deryni senses were gone!  Unable to move, she could do nothing as Jaxom swiftly lifted her from the bench and moved quickly away.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Online Evie

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #408 on: May 18, 2018, 02:06:00 pm »
What fresh new hell is this?  Aliset's dazed mind tried to figure out what was happening to her. She had to be under the influence of some sort of drug, that much she knew, although she knew not what. It was not merasha, she felt certain, for she had been trained to recognize the effects of that dreaded drug, but whatever it was, it had a similar effect on her ability to fight what was happening to her.  Even as she lost command of her own body, her limbs falling limp and helpless towards the ground as Jaxom lifted her up in his strong arms, she started to feel a slight tingle on the back of the hand that had held Darcy's book. Even as she had the thought, she could feel the book slip out from her numb fingers, falling unheeded upon the ground. She watched as it grew farther and farther from her grasp, like her ability to focus.

Surely she was not entirely helpless, though! Aliset gathered the tattered edges of her psyche, trying to gather up enough focus to send out a psychic cry for help. She knew it would be hopeless to try to call out to any particular mind, given how immediately the disruption of her powers had taken effect, but perhaps someone might be able to pick up on her distress in the Deryni-friendly refuge of King Kelson's court!

((13:34   Aliset   !roll 2d6
13:34   derynibot   4, 3 == 7))

But alas, the disruptive effects of the drug were thorough enough to prevent her from accessing even that uncontrolled a use of her powers. Aliset's mind scrambled for some other way to extricate herself from her predicament.  Gathering what little remaining energy and willpower that she could, she attempted to scream for help.  Princess Araxandra and the other ladies were not so very far away, after all. Surely someone would hear her and come to her aid....

((13:35   Aliset   !roll 2d6
13:35   derynibot   5, 1 == 6))

The tiny sound that emerged from her lips was barely more than a squeak. Closing her eyes in despair, Aliset wilted in Jaxom's arms, too spent to consider any other options for the moment.
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Offline revanne

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #409 on: May 18, 2018, 04:25:01 pm »
Columcil was warmly welcomed by Father Malcolm who was, he discovered, the senior priest at the shrine. Columcil introduced himself briefly, giving his own credentials as a priest of a healing shrine for which he hoped to gain archiepiscopal approval. Just coming through the gate had given him a sense of such home coming that he had to struggle to control his brogue, though he made a greater effort when he saw polite incomprehension on the other's face.

"Our main Mass of the day is in an hour, Father. I assume you will wish to join us."

"Thank you, Father, that would be good. I'm no wantin' ta be a trouble ta ye, but I'm sore in need o' shriving."

He was led into a small side chapel where a young priest waited to hear confessions, Father Malcolm mentioning, as if casually, that Father Ninian had recently finished specialist training in healing at the Deryni Schola in Rhemuth.

The heart of his disquiet he not did feel able to share even in the confessional. And after all a country priest, even though he be a Deryni and a healer, who confessed to causing a rift, albeit inadvertently, between the Archbishop of Rhemuth and the King was asking to be read a lecture on humility in the face of such arrogant delusion and given a penance to mortify his overweening pride which would keep him on his knees for a week. But there was more than enough of his want of charity, towards Lord Jaxom in particular, and his failure to keep the office faithfully to make his confession honest enough. Not to mention his failure to fulfill his mission, and the needs of his Parish that were so often far from his thoughts.

Father Ninian listened in silence and when Columcil had finished offered counsel that was both perceptive and charitable. Bowing his head in acceptance of his penance - and praying that he would be given the grace to indeed act with more charity towards Lord Jaxom- Columcil waited for the words of absolution to be pronounced. When there was only silence he looked up to see Father Ninian gazing at him thoughtfully.

"There is something beyond that which you have told me."

Columcil made to speak but Ninian rapidly continued "I know that there is that which is not yours to tell - I can sense its presence and will not press you on that - but  it is not that of which I speak. I wonder if you even know that you are in danger of rebellion against the will of God. He has led you away from your Parish,  and joined you with the stories of others. You have set your hand to this plough, yet you keep looking back. Even if you return to St Melangell's it will be as a Deryni healer and not as the simple priest others knew."

Columcil heard the words with the awful finality of a bolt dropping across a door but he also knew their truth. He had been holding onto the idea of simply going home as a refuge from so much that been assailing his heart and soul, but he had really known that it could not be so simple. And it was a sin, the worst sort of sin, to seek refuge in anything but God alone.

Ninian's eyes were shining with compassion and Columcil knew that he had spoken, not in rebuke, but to keep him on the right path. He managed to whisper,

'Thank you, Father," before bowing again to the words of absolution.

He went to Mass resolved to honestly seek God's will for his future, and to ask the Archbishop to provide for the future of St. Melangell's as seemed good to him. But for all his resolution there was heartache, and it was with a sober heart and mind that he waited for Darcy. When Darcy appeared, it was clear that he too had received unwelcome news, indeed the young man was as troubled as Columcil had seen him. Columcil thought perhaps that the calm amosphere of the shrine would be of comfort but Darcy seemed unwilling to stay though he did ask for Mass to be said for the repose of a soul.

"Begging your pardon,  Father, but if you are ready, let's out of here. It's an ill place, this town, and my promise unfullfilled. Pray God my promise to Lady Aliset will not go the same way."

As they rode back towards Rhemuth neither was in the mood for speech and Columcil, unsettled even further by Darcy's anxiety, was content to allow him to set the pace.





« Last Edit: May 19, 2018, 01:58:19 am by revanne »
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God...The Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us and we have seen His glory, full of Grace and truth."
Prologue to John's Gospel

Offline Laurna

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #410 on: May 19, 2018, 07:30:12 pm »
The door to the king’s royal council meeting remained steadfastly closed. For Sir Washburn, who waited anxiously for news, this was a small torment. It appeared that at no-time-soon was he to be sent for. This exclusion forced him to reflect on the last weeks’ progress, he knew he had made errors and that his accomplishments had been found wanting. In real world situations, not just training and tournaments, Washburn needed to prove that his knighthood was worthy of the spurs that he wore. There was little he could do about the past. He reflected instead on doing better in the future. Ahead were hard times, with much that needed to be accomplish and many lives that needed to be protected.  His duty, his honor, and his self esteem required him to give all that he had to see this cause to a good end.

And this situation in Meara was not to be underestimated. Washburn worried about his brother and the rebellion the Duke of Cowryn had sworn to put down. Kelric might not be aware just how entrenched the Mearan’s had set themselves up in order to obtain this false independence; an independence which was turning out to be a lie to the people. Whoever was orchestrating this did not have Meara’s freedom in mind. Not with men like Oswald abusing his station and slaughtering hardworking common folk.

Wash needed his focus for the campaign ahead, yet he needed to be assured that when he left Rhemuth, he left the people who had trusted him in these last days to be well cared for. His vantage at the alcove window finally rewarded him with the sight of the Queen and her ladies arriving into the garden. His heart leapt at the sight of Lady Aliset de Mariot in the company of his sister, Lady Grania, the Duchess of Southmarch.  In his sister’s hands, Aliset would be well. Grania had a soft touch, a mothering warmth in her ways.  Across the rows of flowers, Washburn could see Aliset’s sad expression. This wrenched his heart. He knew he could not be the one to assuage her grief. As much as he would want to run over and give the lady a tender shoulder to cry upon, he knew he never could. He would never be that close to Aliset again, not as close as they had been in these last few days. He frowned. He would have to content himself to love Aliset as he loved his sister. As he watched Grania care for the young heiress, he was happy to see that the duchess treated the young heiress like family. Wash nodded to himself that it was good enough, for now.

So Washburn had smiled when Graina allowed Aliset to wander to a quiet part of the garden to read Darcy’s book of Poetry. Now that would be a good love match, if Washburn’s instincts about his two companions were correct. Lord Darcy and Hieress Aliset would make a happy couple and a good addition to the barony de Mariot. He determined that the one thing more that he could do for Lady Aliset was suggest to the king what a good match Darcy and Aliset would be. Yes, that would be the best thing he could do for the young heiress.  Aliset settled on a bench near the inner garden wall where Washburn could see her over a spray of blooming red roses. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to the council room where the door still remained closed. Soon, surely soon they would ask him to join them.

Motion in the garden caught Washburn’s attention. Lord Jaxom was there speaking softly to Aliset over the short wall.  “You would dare the wrath of the queen?”  Wash said under his breath. To approach one of the queen’s ladies in the queen’s garden was a flogging offense. The lordling must certainly have better sense than this? Apparently Jaxom did not. The young man reached over the wall to better see the book Aliset held. Aliset pulled back in resistance. “Damn him!” Wash said aloud. The Lendour Knight’s feet were turning to go to the lady’s rescue, when suddenly Aliset fainted away in Lord Jaxom’s arms. “What in the flames of Hell has he done?” Washburn cursed.

Jaxom looked left and right very quickly, then he lifted the lithe form the the lady up over the wall. He adjusted her position in his arms, and then darted out of the garden the way he had come. Noting his direction, Washburn set off at a full run, dodging courtiers and servants who looked after him astonished at his indignity. Wash bounded out a side passage down a half flight of stairs that took him to the hallway were the garden doors would be. 

((12:28 Washburn does Washburn see Jaxom from the bottom of the steps? 5&6 yes
12:28 Washburn !roll 2d6
12:28 derynibot 4, 1 == 5))

Jaxom was not in sight. Wash looked out the garden door as he ran past. He wasn’t there. Could the man have gotten ahead of him so quickly? Not while carrying the lady. But there were many doors down this hallway and stairs that lead up and down. Which way? Which way?

Wash pulled his dagger from his belt, holding the pummel before him with the large ruby gleaming in the garden lit doorway. Wash calmed his nerves and centered. Jaxom, where was Jaxom? He knew the man well enough from their three days travel. Never once did Wash think Jaxom would be the type of man to kidnap a lady. But infatuation often made a man blind. That didn’t seem truly feasible; this lord may be a pompous-ass, but he was not a philanderer, yet Wash had witnessed nothing less.

((12:32 Washburn Washburn opens his focus to locate Jaxom, he already knows the man so 2d6 success on 5/6.
12:32 Washburn !roll 2d6
12:32 derynibot 4, 5 == 9))

Another deep breath and Wash found his focus and what he sought. There behind that door. There was Lord Jaxom and the essence of Lady Aliset’s terrified unshielded mind. The knight’s dagger reversed to display the deadly sharp edge. In a mad rush Washburn kicked in the door that had just closed, but not enough to let the lock catch.

Washburn didn’t care that he found himself in the royal library. All that he cared about was Jaxom leaning over Lady Aliset, who lay deathly still on the librarian’s desk, the hateful man Jaxom kissing her lips. The lady neither moved, nor cried, yet her eyes were wide open, watching in frozen horror.

Fierce anger gripped Washburn then, he yelled at Jaxom. “Get your hands off her, you filthy swine!”

Suddenly, Jaxom was looking upward, blank-eyed. As he turned, he revealed he was not alone. The hand from a grey-bearded Moorish Tradesman reached up and touched Jaxom’s forehead. “He is the enemy,” the man said plainly with his hands over Jaxom’s forehead. “The Lendour knight wants your lady love for himself. Kill him so she can be free of him. Then and only then will Aliset be yours, forever.” In the swift move of a trained warrior, Jaxom pulled forth his sword and leaped at Washburn with all his might.

((13:06 Jaxom Jaxom Initiative test
13:06 Jaxom !roll 2d6
13:06 derynibot 3, 1 == 4
13:06 Washburn Washburn initiative test
13:07 Washburn !roll 2d6
13:07 derynibot 1, 3 == 4))

Washburn had no time to pull forth his own sword. Dagger in hand, he too attacked this swine, calling himself lord. The sword and the dagger clashed together in the same instant both men were swift and strong. Both men were also angry with the supposed actions of the other.

((13:08 jaxom Jaxom initiative 2nd test
13:08 jaxom !roll 2d6
13:08 derynibot 4, 4 == 8
13:08 Washburn Washburn initiative test
13:08 Washburn !roll 2d6
13:08 derynibot 6, 3 == 9))

The two men pulled away from each other only momentarily before they attack again. This time the dagger was faster than the sword.

((13:15 Washburn Washburn attacking Jaxom with dagger 2d6 standard.
13:15 Washburn!roll 2d6
13:15 derynibot 6, 5 == 11))

The dagger sliced under the courtier’s guard hand, biting hard into the man’s side. But the man’s eyes were blank, not registering the pain and that is when Washburn knew the grey-bearded man was a Deryni guiding this attack. Jaxom was under his spell. Even still, Jaxom was a danger that had to be neutralized. Washburn made his second attack; pulling his blow like he would in the training yard, only intending to knock his friend back.

((13:22 Washburn 2nd attack with the dagger
13:22 Washburn !roll 2d6
13:22 derynibot 4, 3 == 7))

But that was a mistake, Jaxom’s focus was too deadly, his intent too strong. He held his stance when any other man would have fallen.

((13:30 jaxom Jaxom attacks with a mastery of swords so advantage 3d6
13:30 jaxom !roll 3d6
13:30derynibot 4, 3, 4 == 11))

The sword swung down, down strong, but clumsy, giving Wash the chance to jumped away.

((13:32 jaxom Second attack
13:33 jaxom !roll 3d6 13:33
derynibot 6, 4, 5 == 15))

Jaxom's controlled mind turned vengeful, his longer reach allowed him to continue the circling of his sword to reverse its momentum, to slice its sharp point across Washburn’s off-side shoulder. Wash was used to turning away with a shield to protect him on that side. His need to Not kill his friend had hindered his ability.  This angered Washburn more than the blood dripping down his arm.

Behind Jaxom, the old grey-bearded man was lifting the semiconscious lady off the desk. He had a large glass container of some red liquid in his hand like a decanter of wine. As he stepped to the curtained garderobe in the corner of the room, he poured the liquid over the maiden and then more upon himself. It ran over them both thicker than wine, more like blood.

Damn it was blood! Whose and why?

Washburn had no choice. If the old man had found a way to get through the warded veiled archway into the next room where the portal lay, than he would be away with Lady Aliset in an instant. The bearded man had to be stopped, and stopped now. Still Lord Jaxom stood in the way. Wash leaped at Jaxom diving under the man’s sword.

((15:25 Washburn Washburn leaps under Jaxom's sword. does he get hit by the sword doing this. 5/6 yes.
15:25 Washburn !roll 2d6
15:25 derynibot 5, 1 == 6))

The sword was in the hand of a slower man, now that the bearded man no longer guiding him, but he still was a agile warrior. Jaxom's sword hacked at the back of the man tackling him. It stuck and then slide off the halberd of chain mail. Even so Wash arched his back at the pain of the drumming. With a desperate need, Wash reached up his hand and grabbed Jaxom’s jaw in a clench of fingers. With that instant touch, the Deryni Morgan did what he new was morially wrong to do, at least in any other situation, he forced a mental connection and demanded the man  SLEEP! "Sleep! Drop the sword and Sleep!"

((13:44 Washburn Washburn attempts to touch jaxom to put him to sleep
13:44 Washburn !roll 2d6
13:44derynibot 1, 6 == 7))

The heir to Trillshire’s eyes rolled back in his head, his whole body went limp, dropped his sword and he slumped down to the ground. Wash would have eased him down, but his focus was now on the bearded man pulling the garderobe curtain back while he carried the lady in his arms

((15:39 Washburn Rolling for Wash to throw his dagger at the back of grey-beard. 15:39 Washburn !roll 2d6
15:39 derynibot3, 3 == 6))


The knight fingered his dagger around. Hethrew it as hard and as accurate as he could. He swore it should have sliced into the heart of the old man, yet the old man had turned and with a weaving of his fingers the dagger flew away, slicing into the spine of large leather bond volume on the library shelf. 

((15:39 Washburn Rolling for Wash to tackle grey beard
15:40 Washburn !roll 2d6
15:40 derynibot5, 1 == 6))

Wash had to stop this man, had to save Aliset at all costs, he dove into Greybeard’s abdomen knocking him back. Grabbing the form of the lady Aliset away as they all fell to the stone.

The door behind them opened. Someone had heard the scuffle. A foreign scholar with an arm load of scrolls came into the room. This new man in a scholarly robe gave a gasp at the sight before him. The scrolls dropped from his arms and he raced to Jaxom’s side who was the closest to the door and could be seen to be bleeding. Finding him unconscious, the scholar looked up concerned at the others on the floor near the garderobe curtain.

Washburn had no time for this new fellow. The man on the floor before him was Deryni and this Deryni had all his focus on his attacker.

((15:55 greybeard Greybeard attacking Wash with magic spell master spell caster.
15:55 greybeard !roll 3d6
15:55 derynibot 2, 4, 6 == 12))

The mental attack came as the Deryni master slapped his hand over Washburn’s wrist. The mind slammed into Washburn’s shields like the battering ram against a castle gate.  The gate to Washburn’s mind held strong but the pain was there like a hammer on a door. Wash pulled his hand away, strengthening his shields around himself and around lady he now held. For master grey beard had his Washburn's sense now and did not relent even though they no longer touched.

((16:16 greybeard!roll 3d6
16:16 derynibot 4, 6, 1 == 11))

The old Deryni man was strong, the attack held Washburn on the defensive unable to make a physical blow and finish this ordeal. He huddled on the floor holding the lady close to him protecting them both with his shielding.

That is when the scholar at his back added his own shielding to strengthen Washburn's.

((16:20 scholar Scholar shielding Wash and Aliset
16:21 scholar !roll 3d6
16:21 derynibot 6, 5, 2 == 13))

The two separate forces together pushed the old grey-bearded man's mind away. This eased the pain on the knight's shields. He crawled forward. With a swift but dissisive punched, he clotted  the old man in the jaw, ending for good the mental attack.

((16:24 Washburn Does grey-beard get knocked out 5/6 yes.
16:24 Washburn !roll 2d6
16:24 derynibot 3, 4 == 7))

Amazingly the old man stayed conscious, his focus was gone, his aggression was ended. He waited on the floor unmoving, hoping against hope for his moment to escape.  Wash tied the man’s hand quickly. Then he scooted over to Lady Aliset. Her eyes were red with tears but she could barely blink or move a muscle to protect herself. Wash touched the lady’s head and as he feared her shields were gone, gone, her mind open like a babe. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her to his chest. He cradled her, wanting all the bad things that had happened to this good maiden to be reversed. He had sworn to protect her. How had this come about.

It did not occur to him to worry about the scholar lurking behind him.







« Last Edit: May 20, 2018, 01:05:59 am by Laurna »

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #411 on: May 20, 2018, 12:48:17 pm »
With King Kelson locked away with his Council and Washburn distracted by the greybeared man and the Lady Aliset. The scholar moves closer behind him. "Is the Lady alright?" the scholar asks and pulls out a Deryni pricker of old and jabs its squarely into Washburn.

(( scholar's attack with a Deryni pricker on Wash ))
<bynw> !roll 2d6
<derynibot> 5, 1 == 6


(( Wash gets a Disadvantage to react before the drug takes its effect ))
<bynw> !roll 1d6
<derynibot> 3 == 3

The Merasha like drug courses through Washburn's system eroding his Powers before he can even answer the scholars question or is aware of the attack.

To the greybeared man the scholar exclaims. "Get us through to the Portal room or we will surely die here today and the Grand Duke will be most displeased."


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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #412 on: May 20, 2018, 01:47:47 pm »

((washburn hero point disadvantage. With hero point Washburn gets one chance to react to Feyd's attack. by reaching out to choke Feyd. success on 5or 6 due to hero point. Rolled a 5 ,  Yes! Verification Number: 4c43hcp5bl))

With a shock, Washburn felt his limbs turn cold. His head start to pound. The needle in his neck had struck home and the man behind him gave a rueful laugh. An instant warrior's reflex, with every ounce of strength left to him, which was dwindling fast, Washburn struck out with his bare hands upon the man behind him. He reached the man’s throat and tightened his grip to squeeze. He squeezed hard, even as his body turned icy cold.

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #413 on: May 20, 2018, 02:42:06 pm »
The scholar gasps abit at the sudden choke hold. And grabs hold of Washburn's arm to pull him off.

(( strength Test roll))
<bynw> !roll 2d6
<derynibot> 4, 5 == 9

The scholar pulls Washburn's hand off of him and breaths easier. "You wont do that again. Now lets see if we can reach the Portal. Even if an alarm is sounded to the King. It wont make any difference where we are going."

The scholar reaches into Washburn's unshielded mind. ((no roll needed as there are no Shields to prevent it)) And goes to set some controls to prevent any further resistance from Washburn. But the scholar leaves the mind

(( setting controls to prevent Wash from attacking him in the future ))
<bynw> !roll 2d6
<derynibot> 5, 2 == 7

Offline revanne

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #414 on: May 20, 2018, 03:45:38 pm »
Darcy's unease had transmitted itself to Columcil and, as they rode as fast as the well-frequented road between Desse and Rhemuth would allow, he extended his senses outwards straining every ounce of his psychic abilities. Suddenly he drew rein, forcing Spean to a brutal stop as he bent gasping over the horse's head.

"Father, what the hell!" Darcy was too shocked to mind his language, for the priest's face was ashen white and sweat ran down his brow.

"Trouble," Columcil moaned. Then taking a grip of himself he repeated more loudly. "Terrible trouble, I don't know what. Somebody shouted out for help." But Darcy was gone, spurring Sigrun with a force that he would never normally have used on his beloved mare, and Columcil, whispering encouragement to Spean made haste to follow as best he could.

              -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dhugal and Richard Kirby had left the King's council chamber, with Kirby less than pleased with the Duke.

"I got through that alright, thanks to the King's grace, but I could have done with a tad more support from you, My Lord. Wherever your mind was at the start of the meeting, I would have been grateful if it had been at my side."

Dhugal expected plain speaking from the seaman, and normally appreciated it, but he really did not want to explain how perplexed he had been by his father's avoidance of him. He muttered a brusque "Sorry" in a tone which made it clear that the subject was closed and went swiftly to open the library door. Any remnants of irritation burnt up in horror at the scene before him.

"Jesus Christ! What in God's name is happening!" Of the five in the room, four were on the floor looking to be in a bad way. Washburn and the Lady Aliset, he knew and they looked bloody awful. One of the other's he did not remember ever having seen, though the man was clearly of the nobility. The other two he vaguely recognised as having seen around court. One was lying bound on the floor, which left the man dressed as a scholar. Wasn't he some sort of foreign noble. Whoever he was, he was standing over Washburn in a way which betokened no good.

Dhugal knew that he must call for help, and the easiest person to reach was his father. Whatever was wrong between them, his father's mental touch had always been the most comfortable right from the days before he knew of their relationship or even that he was Deryni. And he could reach him with the barest of pauses to focus. ((Dhugal shouts out mentally to Duncan 6+5=ghm662w1. This is what Columcil overhears, using a hero point to push his senses outwards 1+5=6 30z187zx22)).

Even that second's pause was too long. Richard pushed past him and lunged for the scholar, ignoring Dhugal's belated shout to stop. Richard was a bonny fighter but he was no Deryni. He drew his sword to overpower the scholar ((Richard overpowers scholar, rolling disadvantage: 2, 7rlqpq74xz :-( )) but before he could do any harm his wrist was seized and his eyes went blank. ((The scholar seizes control of Richard 6+4=10 7qwnk1x3b6))

Seconds later Richard lunged at Dhugal with all the force of his seaman's strength and threw him bodily to the floor. (( Dhugal is overpowered 1,2,3, Richard is overpowered 4,5,6: 3, 1kgsqb7548. It's those Torenthi dice again)). Dhugal felt Richard clawing for his throat and looking up at the scholar he saw a smile of triumph as the latter's hand reach into the breast of his robe to withdraw something. With the last of his concentration he screamed mentally, to his father, to Kelson, to anyone within earshot. Treachery, in the library ((6+2=8, 1fwlq8251r)).


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Prologue to John's Gospel

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #415 on: May 20, 2018, 04:05:43 pm »
The greybearded has gotten back on his feet. And hands the remains of the decanter to the scholar. "There is enough left for you and your friend." Seeing that the 2 interlopers had been dealt with turned towards the gardrobe with Lady Ailest and steps into the annex of the Royal Library and the Portal beyond.

(( Result of the throw of dice "2d6" :
 3 + 5 = 8      4xk6mv58qn ))

Working quickly as there was no barely any time. The scholar splashes the remaining blood on himself and Washburn. And uses the gardrobe towards the annex and Portal.

(( Result of the throw of dice "2d6" :
 3 + 5 = 8  59rn5px8gp ))

Once inside the Portal annex of the Royal Library. The 2 pairs make their escape. Washburn and the Scholar going first.

(( Result of the throw of dice "2d6" :
 4 + 5 = 9  3h41svj4md ))
« Last Edit: Today at 08:09:11 am by Bynw »

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #416 on: May 20, 2018, 06:02:08 pm »
Dhugal watched the intruders disappear through the gardrobe with despair in his heart. He would happily have killed Richard Kirby, though he knew that it was not the man's fault. And in any case it was more likely that he would himself be killed as the ferocity of the other's grip diminished not one whit. Then quite suddenly the fight went out of his assailant, and horror dawning in his face he began to roll away from Dhugal. Dhugal kicked himself free, not waiting to see, nor at this moment caring what became of Richard and flung himself into the gardrobe and through into he portal. There was no sign of the scholar and Washburn but the greybearded man had not yet stepped onto the portal. Encumbered as he was with the prone Aliset in his arms, he was no match for a Dhugal with the battle fury of the clans upon him. Dhugal did not wait to draw his sword, or even the Sgian Dhu from his boot, but drove his fist at the man's head and rejoiced to hear the crash that he made as he hit the wall. ((Dhugal flattens Greybeard 2+6=8, 2n1bqxb75x.)) As the body of the unconscious man hit the wall, Dhugal bent and gently picked up Aliset, wincing as his mind touched the raw vulnerability of her undefended mind.

"Forgive us, My Lady, for our failure to defend you," he murmured, and took her with him through the gardrobe, where instinct took him straight to his father who took his burden from him with the gentleness of a lifetime spent as a priest and a healer.

His desperate message had been heard and the library was thronged. Dhugal thought that he had only once seen Kelson look so grim, and that was when the full extent of Conall's treachery had been revealed. Haldane archers were standing guard over the wounded and semi-conscious nobleman, and Richard Kirby was being dragged sobbing to his feet, his arms twisted viciously behind his back.

Rapidly Dhugal sent to Kelson: Go gently with him, Sire. This is not his doing, his mind has been controlled by that Deryni scholar who has made free with your hospitality - the same filfthy scum that has just taken Washburn through yon portal. God, he kens where tae. There's another yin wi' his heid nigh stove in, but I've kept him man alive for ye."   (( Dhugal mindspeaks Kelson 6+6+2=14 31qf7j1phx))

Kelson nodded to the men holding Kirby, "Release him!", and as Richard collapsed still sobbing to the floor, moved over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Richard! Hear me! As your King and, I believe, your friend, I tell you that you bear no guilt in this."

At the sound of the king's voice, Richard at first stiffened as if awaiting a blow, but then registering the tone managed to raise himself on his knees and reaching for the king's hand brushed it with his lips. Kelson looked down at him with great sadness and turning to Duncan said,

"Duncan, can you arrange for somewhere safe where Richard and the lady Aliset can be cared for?"

Duncan barely noticed that the King had spoken to him without reserve and replied just as unconstrainedly pointing to Lord Jaxom. "And what of him?"

"Until I have some answers, I have no idea whether he is guilty or, as a human, as much a victim as Richard here. Place him under guard in a cell, but his wounds may be treated and he is to be cared for." This last order was to the guards who hastened to remove their prisoner.

Then his attention turned once more to Dhugal who was dragging a greybearded man through the gardrobe, and there was no question this time of the anger in the King's voice.

"Take him to the dungeons. Dhuagal go with them lest he regain consciousness. Chain him to the wall; we'll begin the interrogation once he is full of merasha!"

He drew a deep breath. "I need to speak with Richenda, then we'll reconvene in the council chamber."


((Apologies for the italics - I'll sort them out in the morning. Rescuing Aliset seemed more important -- I think I got these all out modified by Bynw))

((Modified to give Richard more of a response to the king))
« Last Edit: Today at 08:24:43 am by Bynw »
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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #417 on: Today at 10:09:55 am »
Washburn is drifting in and out of consciousness. Unsure of the passage of time. Vagely aware of his surroundings. He has been bound. His Shields are gone as are his powers. Helpless at the hands of another Deryni as a human would be at this time. Even if he had the strength to act, he knows he cannot since the scholar has already placed controls preventing Washburn from attacking his tormentor.

This place is dark and a bit damp. The only light is an eery silver glow from the Handfire created by the scholar. No windows or even a door can be seen in the dim light as Washburn looks around. Tired, hungry, thirsty, and he his held prisoner.

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #418 on: Today at 12:12:07 pm »
The King of Gwynedd strode into the queen’s tower like a fierce warrior of old Run. One hand was on his sword hilt and he grey eyes flashing from woman to woman, looking for anything out of place. At the mental calling from His Grace Dhugal, Queen Araxie had quickly summoned all the women back into the tower. Grania had been the last to arrive, having searched the whole garden for the king’s new ward, and not having found her. Grania had just been explaining to Her Majesty where Lady Aliset had last been seen and how she was not there now.  She was gone. Grania was holding a small leather-bound book up, a book of Norse poetry, a book Grania knew the lady cherished and would not have dropped willingly.

That was when the king entered, that was when all the ladies bowed low to the king’s fierce demeanor.

“I would have a word with Richenda. Where is the Dowager Duchess?” He requested trying to hold his anger in check.

Araxie attempted a mental question to her husband. The tenseness of his reply gave her pause. We have Lady Aliset… I need Richenda… Forgive me… he mentally said to his queen, his beloved, knowing he should contain his anger; it was not aimed at the women.

After mass, Richenda had not joined the younger ladies in the garden. She had retired to her rooms seeking rest, knowing she would need all her strength for her family in the days to come. Knowing in her heart why the king was in the queen’s tower, she had wrapped her shawl around her like shield, something had gone wrong, something horrific. When she walked out into the crowded Queen’s solar and saw the tension in her King, she knew what it was before he even walked toward her. The king took her elbow and guided her over to a cushioned bench in the sunlit alcove over-looking the garden. He sat her there, he remained standing at first, but seeing her questing blue eyes, he softened his stance. Carefully he sat down at her side, cradled both her hands in his. And whispered “Washburn has been taken.”

Her abrupt intake of breath and her hands clinging suddenly to his, said more than her voice could have said, if, indeed, she had had a voice in that moment to speak.

“We believe he is alive. We will find him, my lady! Bishop Arilan has his nephews, Laird Seisyll, Lord Sextus and Lord Jamyl testing the Portal now to see to where he was taken. I have been informed it is to a trapped portal. They are working how to break that trap before they make an attempt to follow.”

“You think he is alive? Truly, don’t lie to me, please! I sensed my youngest was in trouble. I tried to contact him. I could not!” she explained trying to keep her fear in check, trying to keep her tears from falling down her cheek.

“I will have a full accounting for you, I promise you that. I swear to you that we will find him. What little I know is that Aliset was taken and that Washburn rescued her. She has been taken to the Healer’s infirmary. When she is recovered, we will see what more she can tell us.” He hugged Richenda then like a brother, nay like a son. When he left her sitting there, he motioned Grania to attend to her mother. Then the King beckoned his queen and his daughter to his side.

“I am ordering the tower secured. The women will be safe here. Beloved daughter, with full escort, please go to the infirmary. I would have a lady’s touch there when Aliset awakes from her ordeal.”

“Aye, Father, I will.”

Then King Kelson beckoned Queen Araxie to his side. The two, arm in arm, left the queen’s tower to return to the council chamber to hear reports as they came in of all that had transpired.
« Last Edit: Today at 01:06:41 pm by Laurna »

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #419 on: Today at 04:19:15 pm »
Darcy Cameron hated to rein in Sigrun when they reached the crowded streets of Rhemuth, but in truth Sigrun needed the quieter pace.  He had never ridden her so hard, but Father Columcil’s reaction to the cry he had heard had driven Darcy forward with a feeling of dread he had never known before.  The slower pace allowed the priest to catch up to him, though they were still moving faster through the crowds than they should have been.

As they rode up the steep incline to Rhemuth Castle, Darcy was convinced something had gone terribly wrong.  A greater number of armed guards than he had seen the day before moved about, watching everyone carefully.  The guards at the gate into the castle itself questioned them closely; Darcy worried for a moment that they would not let them enter.  Father Columcil’s calm responses had gotten them through.

If the greater number of guards outside the castle had been disturbing, within the courtyard they were positively swarming.  Archers stood at the bottom and top of the stairs leading up to the great door with their bows at the ready.

A groom approached to take their horses.  “She’s been ridden hard,” Darcy said with a nod at Sigrun.  “Pray see she’s well cared for and has suffered no injury.  I’ll settle any expenses later.”  The groom nodded and took both horses away.

For all that Darcy felt a burning need to do something to find out what was amiss, he wasn’t sure who could help them.  He could hardly barge in on the king!  He wasn’t sure how to reach out Sir Washburn or Lady Aliset with his Deryni powers.  He was sorely in need of some training!

“Can you reach Sir Washburn or Lady Aliset?” Darcy asked the priest.   

Roll to try to contact Washburn or Aliset (failure was guaranteed at this point.)
Jerusha   !roll 2d6
16:06   derynibot   4, 4 == 8


Father Columcil closed his eyes and sent out a mental call.  He shook his head.  “It’s like they are no longer here.  But perhaps…”  Columcil paused.  He wasn’t sure his contact would be welcome, but they needed to know what had happened.  “Let me try someone else.”

Roll to try to contact Archbishop Duncan.  Success!!
   
      
16:07   Jerusha   !roll 2d6
16:07   derynibot   5, 5 == 10

Columcil felt the tension in his grandfather’s reply, though his contact had not been unwelcomed.

“We are to go to the infirmary,” Columcil said tersely.  Darcy, unsure what to make of the tense reply, followed as Columcil lead the way.

There were guards outside of the infirmary door.  They would not allow them entry, even when Columcil stated the Archbishop had sent for them.  One of the guards called for someone inside to verify that they had permission to enter.  Darcy began to grow impatient and was about to speak, but Columcil laid a restraining hand on his arm. Darcy took a deep breath and remained silent.

The man finally returned, said something to the guard, and they were waived inside.  The man led them down the corridor to a room with another guard at the door.  The man knocked, and the archbishop bade them enter.

Darcy and Columcil entered the small room.  Archbishop Duncan was standing by a bed, his body blocking the view of the person he was administering to.  When he turned, both men bowed.

“What has happened, your Grace?”  Darcy asked. 

“There has been grave trouble.  Sir Washburn has been taken, and we almost lost Lady Aliset as well.”

‘What?” Darcy exclaimed and strode toward the bed before Columcil could stop him.  Archbishop Duncan held out a hand and stopped his progress.  “It’s not as bad as it looks.  She has been given a drug similar to merasha.  It will wear off, but I have made her sleep to ease her recovery.”  Duncan removed his hand and allowed Darcy to approach the unmoving form on the bed.

“Sweet Jesu,” Darcy said quietly.  “I’ll kill whoever did this.” 

Lady Aliset lay on the bed, covered with a light blanket, her right arm outside the cover.  There were streaks of something dark red in her hair, along the sides of her face and on the exposed arm.  Darcy knelt beside the bed and reached for her hand, taking it gently in his to verify that she still lived.  Her hand felt cold, and he wrapped his larger hand around it to provide what warmth he could.

“How did this happen?” he asked. 

“I don’t know for sure, but one of the assailants and an accomplice have been captured and are being questioned. “

“I’d be willing to help with that,” Darcy said and looked up at the archbishop, his pale eyes flashing cold anger.

“I believe King Kelson is handling it personally.”  Duncan was careful not to mention the name of the accomplice.   Darcy turned his gaze back to the woman on the bed and his gaze softened. 

“Do you have any idea what she was given?”  Columcil asked.

Duncan shook his head.  “Now that you are here, perhaps you can stay with her while I send someone to see if anything can be found about it at the schola.”  Duncan stopped as someone knocked at the door. 

The door opened to admit his niece, Grania.  Duncan embraced her briefly.

‘His Majesty wanted me to be here when she awakes.  She has had a difficult time.“  She turned her gaze toward Darcy.  “It would be best if you leave now,” she said.

Darcy had stood and bowed as she entered.  Now he nodded his understanding.  “I’ll be outside the door if she needs anything.”

“There is already a guard there, Lord Darcy.”

“Aye, your Grace, and there will be one more.”  Darcy, who had not released his grip on Aliset’s hand even while bowing, lifted it to his lips and kissed in gently before withdrawing from the room.

It was a pity that it would not be the kiss Aliset remembered when she finally awoke.
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