Snippet #1938338

Duke Henry Devalin

Henry listened carefully to his sister. He was, as always, impressed by her take on a situation and how she could handle people. One of his weaknesses was dealing with people politically. He had ever been a soldier and the whole graces and airs thing had never really taken with him. Her opinion of the King and his court was vitally important to him and as she spoke of the ball and those she had met he stood, pacing slowly in front of the big window, watching the rain batter down on his city. The Luxorian bit was interesting, it could open some interesting possibilities if he played his cards right.

He noticed, as she began to conclude her story a pang of something flit through her features but he said nothing. If she was going to tell him she would and there was no sense in pushing her. When he was sure she had nothing to add he thanked her and then called for the guard.

"M'lord?" The helmeted face appeared.

"Please send for the Princess and ask her to join us."

The guard saluted and the door closed again. Henry looked at his sister and sighed. "Let us see what I have wrought sister. I only hope that you have given me the key we need to break this damned family open and put them where they belong."

They did not have long to wait, a few minutes of silence as the two siblings considered what was to come. When the door swung open Henry turned, framed by the blackness outside, a bolt of lightening cutting the sky. He bowed.

"Your majesty. Welcome to Caerwyn."


Sergeant Caar

The big Sergeant opened his mouth to reply to the strange man but he wasn't given a chance as the fool grabbed a weapon from a display rack and began to threaten them. Really he didn't blame the man but the Sergeant was not someone who had gotten his job by being patient with angry armed men. His job was to protect his lordship, his family and his home. The stranger was threatening all of that right now.

Stepping forward as if to speak to the man he swiftly lashed out with his spear, slamming the shaft of it into the side of the strangers head and sending him crashing to the ground. Behind him one of the guards chuckled.

"Foine shot sah."

The Sergeant grunted as he gestured at the prostrate form. "Get 'im oop'n back inta 'is bloody bed. Throw a shackle on em. Both'a you lads stay wit em till I comes fer em. Savvy?"

The soldiers nodded and between them they carried the comatose man back to his room. A strong shackle was fetched and he was tethered to the solid oaken bed. The two guards took up their posts inside the room, pulling a deck of cards out and starting a hand. The fat nurse continued to snore, oblivious of the goings on.


Sir Thomas Blackthorne

Thomas was running, he didn't know from what but he could feel the fear, the sweat dripping down his back as he ran. He risked glance over his shoulder, it was coming! He tried to lash out at it but something entangled his arm and he couldn't get free. He fell and tried to fight with but the more he struggled the more entangled he got. Sweat was soaking his body now as he lashed out, his foot catching something solid and sending it spinning away into the blackness.

In the grip of a fever he could never have known he would get from his tumble into the rainforest, Thomas's battle with whatever beast haunted his mind had entangled him in the bed sheets, his foot kicking the tray from Vivians hands. His struggles at length ceased and he collapsed back into the mattress, his eyes glazed over as he laboured for breath. His right hand clenched and then unclenched as if grasping for a sword hilt. Sweat soaked the bed now, his long hair plastered across his face. Slowly his eye lids closed again and mercifully he slept.