"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
He pushes through the shadows, shakes the rust from his bones. It falls around him like the leaves of fall and all but disappears into the mist that shrouds him. The winds had been shifting as of late, he could feel it in every fiber of his being. It is a dangerous feeling, as if their kingdom is in need of something more than what they’d been giving.
She was known to be a harsh mistress. They’d all learned that in some manner or another, and if they hadn’t, well…they were probably getting ready to learn.
He slips into the meeting beside of Kavi, dipping his head to those who had reached the little gathering before him. There were the usual exchanges, the stuff that had to be said at every kingdom meeting. He watches Straia direct their attention to their tree, and he is in that moment all too eager to shed his blood for it. He’d shed his blood for this kingdom countless times already, what was once more? Straia directs to him, and he inclines his head in thanks while feeling the magic of the land seeping into him. His heart responds, and the blue symbol on his chest pulses. Already his head itches, and he has no doubt that soon the horns promised him will show themselves there. “A wise choice, my queen. Killdare, congratulations.” he said simply, glancing at the stallion. They’d not had many interactions, and admittedly that needed to change if they were to work together successfully. A point Warship planned to make once the meeting adjourned. For now, however, was the business of “stirring the pot”.
The thought of stealing children was somewhat disdainful to him, despite his chosen kingdom and in heart for war. “Stealing children will accomplish nothing but bringing angry mothers and their kingdoms to our doorsteps. Perhaps, if you scoured the den and found abandoned children and brought them up here, but to rip them from their mothers? I can’t see them being very keen on anything we’d have to teach them. Though there may be something for stealing weanling children. Impressionable still, but less apt to miss the comforts of mommy.” he says, glancing from face to face. It seemed they were somewhat split on that issue. Others speak here and there, and he listens in turn. It is Gryffen that really peaks his attention, the cremello stallion with the devil red eyes. Little did he know (though he could probably have guessed, if he’d cared to) he was a son of Kennedy, the once love of the old general. Neither here nor there now, she was long dead and rotting and Warship remained. “Interesting idea, Gryffen, interesting indeed. Perhaps in addition to the maze of sorts, the captive must bring someone to us for the blood sacrifices? Let the captive do the dirty work, and keep the respective blood from our hooves. I’m not sure exactly what all the tree requires, but it is a thought, if having our name synonymous with fear is the ultimate goal.” And with that he falls silent, waiting to see what else they could come up with.
W A R S H I P
I come from a long bloodline that ain't gonna change So take your pistol pointing finger right off the trigger I know where to aim...hell, I'm to blame
08-21-2015, 06:18 PM (This post was last modified: 08-22-2015, 04:15 AM by Kushiel.)
OOC: Kush is under new management. I was lucky enough to get him off PMP, so please excuse any odd character shifts.
Kushiel had never been any good at games. Despite his size, he wasn’t much of a scrapper, and though he regularly played with fire, he usually just burned himself. His mother, bless her heart, had taught him games of the mind, rather than games of the body. If he had any talents, surely it was there that they would lie.
Should they truly build an obstacle course, he may have a bone to pick. Hopefully, it would not come to that. Kushiel cleared his throat.
“On second thought, perhaps I ought to throw my lot in with the diplomats.” He paused for a second; swallowing back much of the sarcasm that threatened to flop from his mouth before his brain could check it.
“As much fun as an obstacle course would be, who among us is truly built for manual labor? Kushiel cast an eye about, trying to drum up support.
“I’m sure even the army boys can find something better to do with their time.” Another awkward pause in which he waited for a laugh that probably would never come. No sense of humor perhaps? Surely not.
“If kidnapping children is too mundane, why not make a game out of it? While one could see the…appeal…of battering helpless women, it does lack a certain grace don’t you think?”
Kushiel couldn’t say that he had never been tempted to smack someone around. Certainly mares could be annoying, when they giggled mostly, but stallions were just as bad, and a hell of a lot less fun come breeding season.
“Why don’t we steal the women…but then we don’t beat them up? Instead, we keep them in pristine condition and raffle them back to their friends and loved ones. For a price of course. If their stallions were fond of them they can try to win them back by offering us favors, trinkets, their children in return, whatever they think their girls are worth.”
Kushiel liked this idea, and he felt his enthusiasm build.
“If their men weren’t so fond of them, or have nothing useful to offer us, they don’t have to bid, another herd or kingdom can in their place. It will be fun, like a silent auction but with families torn apart only to be reunited at the end.”
Kushiel nodded enthusiastically. A charming idea, no? They could even invite their allies to watch. Dinner and a show.
Killdare had never received much praise growing up, that sort of sentiment was reserved for his sister. He wasn't exactly looking for handouts, for a pat on the back at every turn, but it was nice. He felt a solid sense of pride as Warship voiced his own agreement with the Queen. Finally, finally he had begun to accomplish something, something really worthwhile. He was becoming something he could be proud of, perhaps something the Chamber could be proud of too.
The bay dips his head in acknowledgement, in thanks, ”Thank you, Sir.”
He continues to listen, everyone having their own thoughts or opinions on the matter. As of yet, nothing has really peeked his interest, not until Kushiel speaks again. The dapple male has a rahter interesting idea, a good idea even. Maybe the speakers caste was a better choice for this one after all.
Now this, this was something he could see working. He might as well stop standing like a clay stone in the backdrop, become a more active participant in the discussion. He turns to the dapple, nodding his head in agreement, ”That’s a fine idea.” He looks around at the others to get a feel for their opinions on the suggestion. "To make that work, we will need to work hand in hand with the Diplomats.” Not that the group didn’t work together already, they had a pretty devoted bunch. ”We will have to take the RIGHT mares, the ones they are going to want back.”
He gaze turned to Engelsfors, there was always something to sway a man.
They come, and never in her life has she seen so many members of the Chamber. Not even under her father. His rule was mostly quiet, though there was a short time where he almost seemed like he might pull the Chamber out of its slump. Almost. But her father never quite had it in him. He was too prone to getting lost in his own personal vendetta’s, too busy destroying individual lives to see the greater possibilities. Straia would not make that mistake. She would not get so tied up in her dislike of one other horse that she would make a foolish decision for the Chamber. She wouldn’t kill for amusement or punish for personal crimes. She was not her father, in the end. She was simply just enough of him to be effective.
The first stallion to speak is new, asking what they would do when they stole other horses. “Piss them off,” she says simply. She had no issues with the captor doing as they pleased with their prize, excluding death. A bit of roughing up, a bit of mental torture. Whatever floated their boat. She simply wanted the other kingdoms to remember who the Chamber really was. She wanted those stories of the days when the Chamber was feared by all to be true again.
The stallion goes on to talk about his ideas, and she listens, though does not comment yet. She knows there will be more opinions on the matter, and so will hold her tongue on that topic until the rest of spoken. Cellar speaks, and Straia listens to the girl, glad to see that she seems to be settling in at least for the time being. Gryffen would certainly hold a tight enough leash the girl might even stay. She comments that children will dream of home, and Straia agrees, though still says nothing. Every horse in Beqanna could have stolen her away and not one would have convinced Straia that there was a better home than the Chamber. She has loved this place since birth. She will love it till she dies.
Engelsfors is the next, and Straia too agrees with that. She would burn down Beqanna for her son, if she had to. It is personal the only personal matter that might cloud her judgment for the Chamber, but she knows other mothers and other kingdoms would do the same. Astri speaks up to pledge herself to both castes, and Straia nods in the mare’s direction but says nothing. Killdare adds his own thoughts as well, and then Erebor.
She is glad to see him. She knows why her son has been absent, and she agrees with his reasons. The Chamber didn’t need to burn to the ground again. But still, she nods to her son in a quiet hello. There’s no overt show of love – she has never been that sort of mother and he has never been that sort of son. A nod is enough. She can’t help the slight grin at his floating act though. The Chamber was definitely something now, with the magic distributed throughout Beqanna. The other kingdoms would be smart to fear them without the Chamber ever lifting a finger. Erebor’s thoughts mirror her own, though she is hardly surprised by this. Like mother like son. But again, she says nothing, because there are still others to speak.
Oh, how far they have come. She is thrilled, really, though outwardly she remains the same.
Another new face introduces himself as Michaelis. He’s not entirely knew to Straia. The ravens tell her of every horse that crosses the Chamber border, after all. But she has yet to see him in person, and she nods in his direction in her silent welcome.
Gryffen speaks next, and she notices that the raven she had given him still perches on his back. She grins slightly. She won’t take it away unless her powers stretch too thin, but she has not yet crept up on any limit. She has no idea what limit, if any, she has with her strange brand of magic. But she’ll use it to help serve the Chamber and it’s members in every way she can, not just as her personal army of spies (though she loves her army of spies).
“I suspect the Gates is watching for you, Gryffen.” She knows why he asks as well. His fascination with the broken still baffles her a bit, but to each his own. “They are fair game, though.” She has no love of the Gates, after all. And they are not strong enough to be worth the Chamber’s time. “A labyrinth? Interesting thought, though we’ll need a magician for that one.” Her magic did not stretch past ravens, though perhaps she could create some sort of labyrinth made of shadow ravens. They would move, shift, or just attack horses. It was a thought.
Kavi is the next to speak, preaching peace. Or at least not “evil”. Who said they were evil? They were simply strong, and capable of showing that strength. But of course, she is not surprised by Kavi’s words, because he has never entirely been as cruel as his brother. His home may be the Chamber, but it had never completely been his heart. However, she is slightly surprised to find that he steps down. At the same time though, she finds herself mildly relived, because it means that she wouldn’t have to demote him. He’d been absent more and more, and her patience was growing thin. Now she simply didn’t have to make that decision.
Straia nods at her Uncle, though says nothing more. Perhaps in the future there would be some use for him that suited the painted stallion better, but for now, she was content to let her Uncle be. In the end, she wasn’t sure he’d have the stomach for what the Chamber might do. Warship is the next, and he agrees to give Killdare a pair of wings. He is sour on the idea of stealing children, but seems to like the idea of the maze as well. “The level of the sacrifice can vary from a few drops to a life. The prophecy given will be in line with the level of blood. The more blood, the more we learn of our possible futures.” She wasn’t sure that lives would be all that necessary. Maybe now and again, but the future was a fickle thing. A few drops of blood here and there could tell plenty, because the future was apt to change. But having a captive for a year provide those drops of blood wasn’t a bad idea.
Kushiel speaks up again, and she listens, Killdare pipping in as well. “And what would we raffle them back for? According to the laws of Beqanna, captives must be returned in a year.” She’s not saying no to the idea, but rather wants to see it fully fleshed out. She turns to face the group as a whole. “Thank you for the ideas. I lean toward a show of power, rather than capturing children or mares and breaking them. And I would pick one of the more powerful kingdoms to target. The Amazons, perhaps, or the Deserts.” Even though the Valley was rather worthless at the moment, they were still allies, and she wasn’t keen on pissing off Eight. She just might need to influence the next monarch over there.
“If you have more ideas, please feel free to voice them, or simply find me later if you prefer to have a one on one discussion.” She won’t make a decision quite yet, though perhaps a maze, and perhaps plans for a raid. She simply needed some reason to pick the right kingdom. Maybe, if they were lucky, one of the kingdoms would prove themselves to be just that target.
He is late to the meeting (when was he not?), but he does not hurry. Instead, he watches them go back and forth with ideas, his ears perking at some of them, and his mouth falling into a scowl at others. He had seen decades of these meetings before, and he had not heard many fresh ideas before, although he was not against history repeating itself in some instances. After all, there had been good times mixed into years passed and some of the land’s youth would not recognize a second act when they saw it.
So he yawns and detaches himself from the shadows, moving toward the center of the meeting. “Kidnapping and stealing are not bad ideas,” he muses, “although there is something to having a show of strength along with it. The Chamber is more than thieves in the night picking off the weak members of a herd. We are powerful—and we deserve to be viewed as that.” He looks toward Straia, wondering what she was truly thinking. “It has been a long time since Beqanna has seen a good raid. The army here is as healthy as I have seen in the other kingdoms; perhaps it is time that we actually showcased that strength.”
His yellow gaze looks toward the others for a moment, edges of his scarred lips turning upward in the corners. “We could always set the terms of the raid as taking their new children, or we could simply seek to have a subkingdom—or we could simply do it to show possibilities. Letting our influence spread and gaining infamy is as good a purpose as anything. Let the other kingdoms fear what we may choose to do in the future and let that dictate the politics of the land.” His smile is predatory as he grows silent.
”Labyrinth…” He hisses, nodding his head in agreement. ”Yes, that’s the exact word of what I had in mind.” The Chamber’s General seems to be interested in his idea as well while others have their mind on some sort of auction. The idea’s not bad but isn’t quite his cup of tea. ”I don’t see why we can’t give both a try, once they have been more finely tuned that is. Perhaps the raffle can be ran by the Diplomats, the labyrinth by the war driven.” He pauses, red gaze blazing on to that of Straia. He hadn’t missed her grin as se had pointedly looked at the raven on his back and when she says nothing about it, he knows it’s his for now. Excellent.
”You say we need a magician for this… Any idea where I can find one?” Taking on the task of hunting one down may be hard but worth it in the long run if he ever wants to see his twisted ideas brought to fruition. Then Atrox appears and he can’t help but give a slight grin in response. ”I never mind a good old-fashioned raid.” And how could he? Having Cellar as a loaded gun would make it all the more interesting.
I wanted to leave something besides a blood trail,
besides prayers growing stale on my tongue.
Cellar listens carefully as they each voice their opinion, each arguing their idea of strength or what would drive respect into the hearts of any would be enemies. These are new concepts to her entirely. Her bright eyes trail to each one as she drinks in their information before deciding that they may be correct in thinking that respect would bring them greater power than fear. She also learns from the mothers as they speak of the things they would do to protect their offspring, and she is certain to hang on every word. (Would her mother ever seek her out? Would she recognize her?)
She blinks as she brushes the thought from her mind. Whoever her mother was, she probably had no time for a thing such as Cellar. These mothers kept their offspring close and seemed to ignite themselves at the mere idea of having their bloodline threatened. Perhaps motherhood was something only a few were cut out for. She decides it is not for her.
The serpent girl does not know what mazes or labyrinths are and so she finds little interest in the talk of such a thing. She only loops back in when they mention the necessity of a magician, a word that is also foreign but intriguing. Her previous master had been skilled in certain arts but she did not think they required an illusionist such as him. Perhaps something less abstract was more within their requirements? Still, she knew no one in this land except her father, her queen, and Gryffen.
"I would assist Gryffen in this hunt for a.. magician?" she says with a light tilt of her head. The word is unusual to pronounce for her but she manages all the same. The word 'raid' invokes an image of battles and bloodshed in her mind and, judging by the looks in a few Chamber members' eyes, she's on the right path.
"As for a raid, I will do as you request of me."
Her eyes shift to Gryffen as she finishes speaking, deciding to let him continue to hold her leash for the time being. He hadn't disproven his worth despite the differences in his style and bloodthirst. It seemed safe to leave her trust with him for a while.
I could give you my body, my flesh,
offer it up like a sacrifice, like a banquet.
It echoes from thin air, originating from somewhere behind the Chamber Queen, filling the ears of the Chamber members standing at attention. He does not cloak entirely the dangerous edge to it, his displeasure with Straia’s ignorance of his return to the Chamber evident in the low rasp. Slowly he straightens the light bent around him, stripping away his indiscernibility to reveal a piebald Tasmanian devil. Grinning a toothy grin, he circumvents the paint Queen, leaping down amongst her many subjects. Nose twitching, whiskers quivering, he steps boldly amongst them.
“It would seem to me that your need of a magician would’ve led you to be a bit more … welcoming.” He smiles at Engelsfors, offering her a cheeky wink before turning to face the Chamber’s sole ruler. “Of course, it’s been a long time since I called myself the Chamber’s King, I suppose things have changed?” The last lilts upward in a question he does not want answered. It is a warning; no threat, though it had taken some time for him to come to terms with the fact that Rodrik the Fool’s blood now sits on his family’s throne. As far as he could see – quite far, in fact – the Chamber was flourishing underneath his daughter’s rule.
“Stealing children, mares – Erebor and Warship are right.” He smiles faintly, the successes and failures of dynasties past rising in those yellow eyes. “I wouldn’t mind joining you in a raid, though it’s been some time since I’ve fought.” Grinning, he shifts, horse once again. Hide and sinew complete, he is undead no more, whole, once again in his prime. The magic has sustained him over the years, raised him from a dreamless death-sleep, and it’s done him well once again. Twisting his neck, he shakes out his mane with a low groan, the motion followed back to his tail with a casual flip. Assuming the meeting has shifted toward conclusion, he inclines his head, gaze flipping briefly to Straia before turning to leave.
”Oh yes.” He brightens visibly, red eyes blazing with excitement. ”I forgot you had a way with magic.” Here was just another reason why he was glad Set was back. Tricky bastard, always had something up his sleeve. ”So what do you say? Think you can set up a little labyrinth for us?” He scuffs the earth with a single flint hoof, much like the act of someone filing their fingernails as if they didn’t care much about the response. ”It would save me a trip..” Not that he didn’t want to take Cellar out on a little adventure and let her spin her wheels but that time will come.
Atrox arrives to the meeting, looking mostly for a raid. Gryffen and Cellar are quick to jump on looking for a magician, though Straia thinks they don’t really need to look at all. They just need to pretend long enough that there aren’t any around and one of them will get annoyed and finally show up. She knows the Chamber has two lurking around somewhere.
And then finally, one of them comes.
Did he really think she didn’t know he’d returned? Of course she knew. The raven’s told her everything. Told her of the magician and the parade of horses that had come to greet the second magician to grace the Chamber’s borders since the divisions were erased. But she wasn’t going to make the same mistake of joining the hoard of greeters as she did with Ana. That group had been terribly large, and nothing of any value had actually been said.
So she waits patiently, the raven’s filling her in on the conversation and details of his appearance. She keeps well informed, after all.
Neither Set nor Ana had appeared at the kingdom meeting either. Perhaps they were above such things, though she didn’t think so. If they wanted to serve the Chamber, they ought to show up once in a while. But in the end, he comes when called as most magicians do. Just to prove they were listening without being there, just to prove that they could. “I believe I just asked. Or would you like me to say please?” she says simply, letting the rest of his words simply go unanswered.
Let him think what he wanted of her. She wasn’t cowed by the magicians and their show of power. If they wanted to kill her, they would just as easily for no reason at all. But if they truly served the Chamber, then they knew she served the same purpose, and her death would be useless now. Though it does please her when he mentions he would consider helping in a raid. Because hopefully, with Weed’s help, they could send Beqanna into a spiral of madness. War always followed.
Gryffen however, asks for the maze, and Straia simply smiles slightly at Set. “Please.”
Kushiel had never been any good at games. Despite his size, he wasn’t much of a scrapper, and though he regularly played with fire, he usually just burned himself. His mother, bless her heart, had taught him games of the mind, rather than games of the body. If he had any talents, surely it was there that they would lie. 
![[Image: atrox.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/XBppy9VY/atrox.png)
Set
