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"Poison is a woman's weapon."

0 · 526 views · located in Domhanda

a character in “Chronicles of Domhanda”, as played by The Cynic


ImageN a m e s a k e:
Faolan TeΓ rlach, Duchess of Baile.
A l i a s:
N u m e r i c a l:
Age: 19 | Birth: Fourth of May.
S o c i o l o g i c a l:
| Profession: None.. | Martial Status: Single.. | Homeland: Glasluigh, Baile.. | Allegiance: Fickle..| Status: Royalty..
B i o l o g i c a l :
| Height: 5'1ft. | Weight: 101lbs. |Ethnicity: Glasluian.

P s y c h o l o g i c a l:
Faolan is an enigma, to say the least. To onlookers, she is vivacious, sweet, and a tad outspoken for a young woman of her prestige. It is clear she is eloquent, charismatic, and quite lively. However, much of her outward demeanor is all a facade. The girl can be cruel, unforgiving, and relentlessly ambitious, allowing nothing - an no one - to stand between her and her desires.
ImageP r o f i l e :
Faolan is often called "The Rose of Baile," due her beguiling looks and radiant smile. She has flawless pale skin, engaging green eyes, and long red locks. She often keeps her hair loose and free flowing, and dresses herself in lavish gowns of satin and gold. Her dresses are revealing and usually soft teal or dark emerald in color. Faolan disdains jewlery, save for the odd pendant or belt, and prefers to keep her hands and fingers unhindered.
K i n d r e d:
Faolan was the daughter of Eomdery, the former Grand Duke of Baile, and his wife Freya, the former Duchess of Baile. Faolan's father was the younger brother of King Caederyn. She is cousin to Anerin and Baothein, Caederyn's sons. Her father and mother were both executed by Anerin when she was eleven, which left her with no remaining family save for the kin of her uncle. She loathes Anerin deeply, and eagerly awaits the day she will have the power to overthrow him, and take her place as the rightful ruler of Glasluigh.
F e a t s:
Faolan's great skill is her eloquence and charm. Her charisma is as deadly as her beauty, which often entices others to do her bidding. She is well educated, politically adept, and has a knack for growing plants, flowers, and herbs. She is also a skilled rider, which is to be expected by a lady of the court.

"Willowy limbs crept silently along the stronghold's cobble veins; slithering along corridors, ducking into darkness. The hooded creature hardly drew breath past muffled lips, keeping her breast steady, and her gait fluid. Leering past a black hood, only a pair of cobalt eyes could be seen amongst the shade. The way was clear, the shadow carefully crossed to a final archway, carved of stone, marked with a mahogany mantle. From beyond the polished wood, the figure could make out a chain of erratic snores resonating from an elderly man. Blue oculars flickered
to a golden handle, where digits skillfully picked the lock, unhinging the latch with utmost ease. Then she was slipping inside the chamber, not once disturbing it's occupant..."

Image A r s e n a l:
Faolan is a lady of court, and as such, forbidden to carry arms. However, that does not stop her from keeping the odd jeweled dagger or two.
A r c h i v e:
Faolan's father was appointed as the Grand Duke and ruler of Glasluigh after Croasaire conquered the country in 1393, when Faolan was just a small child. She was raised in Castle Casiel, in Baile, all her life. Her parents had tailored her well for the role of future duchess; she was well tutored and dotted upon by both her mother and father. Her life was one of splendor until the arrival of her older cousin, Anerin. In the beginning she adored him; they were as close as siblings for a few short years, until Anerin began wandering in and out of their lives. Her cousin became obsessed with the poor and the suffering; he objected to her father's rule, and began plotting amongst their subjects. When Faolan reached the age of eleven, she witnessed the betrayal of Anerin, and the execution of her parents. Since that night, she has harbored a great evil in her heart, and a thirst for vengeance against those who murdered her family...

"Light footfalls crossed the distance to a massive silken bed, where opaque veils shrouded a man under sleep's spell. The woman's hand grasped at the luster hilt of her dagger, carefully withdrawing its silver splendor. The old man's chest heaved to take in a rigid breath, yet never had the chance to descend, as a smooth blade flashed out, catching a beam of moon beyond the sheltered windows, piercing the wretch's core. The dagger scissored clean through bone and marrow, dicing briskly through his heart. The woman departed as swiftly as she had come. Surely, she was a demon, in the mask of an angel."

So begins...

Faolan's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trenton Brentson Character Portrait: Faolan Character Portrait: Killian Ferrer Character Portrait: Anerin
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1409, Third of June| Midday

As the Duchess entered Trenton inclined his head to her. He had at one point counted her amongst his good friends, perhaps he even was attracted to her, but she had grown into something cruel and unlikeable. She was cold and unkind. She had always had a shadow looming around her. It was like her shadow was controlling her and making her do things she would usually do. It made her turn into something dark and without life.

"No doubt, Captain Trenton...You must be eager to see your kin once more," the Duchess stated. Trenton inclined his head once more. He didn't have an answer to this question. It was a very odd task he had given himself, he was excited and fearful. He could very well find out his brother is dead. so Trenton simply replied with an "Aye m'lady.".

"Trenton, we cannot afford rash action, but very well, go with a small party." Anerin told Trenton. Trent could see that Anerin was somewhat strained due to his cousin. She had that effect on many people.

"I'll take my leave then. Duke, Duchess." Trenton said he walked up and clasped the Duke on the shoulder. He then bowed lowly to the Duchess and took her left hand kissing her ring finger. Trent always did this when he didn't know if he was going to be coming back or not. A way to say goodbye without words he guessed. Trenton then turned on his heels, as he did so another guard came out of the servant passages and brought Trenton his helmet that he had earlier dropped. It was one of the senior guards. Tegan was his name. He was a couple years the elder of Trent, his hair was beginning to grey with age and stress. Tegan had Trentons full trust, though he was somewhat a smaller and leaner man he was vicious in a battle. With his size came great speed and agility.

"You dropped this damned thing again, lucky there's no dent in it." Tegan chuckled at Trent. Trent smirked, but then the facial expression washed away. Trenton snatched his helm in Tegans hand and placed it on his head. "No time for jokes. You're with me, we have a possible threat on the north-western shore outside of Kreth Village." Trenton told the old guardsman. He didn't have to say anymore, Teagan knew what to do. They both disappeared out the great doors of the hall and down the stairs that lead towards one of the City's most prized buildings. The Stable. The building itself was somewhat unspectacular, it was constructed of a mixture of stone and wood. The stone made up the walls and wood made the roof. The stable here though was hundreds of years old compared to many of the other buildings. Glasliugh wasn't "Land of The Horse Lords" for no reason. Inside the stable however was a large open area. There were no pens. Just horses galloping around in the grass that made up the buildings floor. The horses obviously loved it here. They could graze all they wanted and run at their own leisure. Trenton let out a complex whistle with a mixture of notes in it. Tegan did the same, letting out a different, and quite unique whistle. Every horse in Baile and all of Glasliugh was much smarter than any horse from any other nation. Century's of strenuous breeding had resulted in that, and these brilliant "Lords" as they were called among horses were ideal for a guardsman like Trent. A couple seconds after Trenton and Tegan had whistled their horses came running to them. Trenton's horse was Gull. He had named her after his original home in Fearaan. She was a bigger horse to compensate for Trenton's size. lucky for her Trenton needed a larger horse, otherwise she would be a work horse at some farm. She was white with speckles of grey all over her. sometimes it was hard to clean her because you don't know where she's dirty and where she's clean. Trenton grabbed a saddle from the wall closest to the door, they were reserved for guards and those higher in society. He lashed the saddle over Gull's back and tightened it in all the correct places. He put the reins in her mouth, which she liked unlike many horses, and then he mounted her. As he did this Tegan had done the same as him in just a matter of minutes. The guards should all be masters at quickly preparing for battle.


The door were opened by the guards the attended the Stable. There were always at least two. As the doors opened, Trenton and Teagan rode out on their mares and picked their way through streets that were nearly lifeless. The market was where everybody would be at this time of day. As Trenton looked around to find another unoccupied street he saw the same Traineee that had earlier humiliated him. "Boy!" Trenton called to him. "Get your horse and join us at the main gate in ten minutes." Trenton needed to give this trainee a sense of battle, then maybe he would learn to be more cautious. The Fearaan were less likely to take a jumpy trainee as a threat than the Kirhareshians. Trenton examined the streets that had been his home for so many years now. The buildings all constructed mostly of stone brick and wood. Some buildings like taverns were made fully of stone to prevent drunkards from burning the place down. Trent liked the buildings though. They had a sort of... Warmth, that he had come to love, compared to the cold of Fearaan, one could actually become warm in Baile. Tegan got Trent's attention as he rode ahead of him. Trenton took his cue and kept up with the senior officer. The reached the gates taking back roads in about five minutes. For a portion of it they let the horses run at a full gallop. They always loved to run. Enthusiasm with speed was a great quality in a horse, especially ones as smart as those in Baile.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nadia Ferrer Character Portrait: Faolan Character Portrait: Anerin
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#, as written by Layla
1409, Third of June | Noon.

Nadia halted at the entrance.

Her feet were frozen mid stride, her mouth agape and her doe eyes wide with surprise. When The Chef had commanded her to "brin' da Grand Duke a snack!" and "ask 'im if 'e wants us ter provide da whawers wiv a bite," she hadn't expected Duke Anerin to have an audience. By "whawers" - whores - Chef had meant the entertainers for tonight's feast. The curmudgeon seemed inclined to regard any who made music or art as skin merchants. When Nadia had first arrived on the sticky back steps of the castle kitchens, the Chef's queer accent had baffled her. Now she was largely accustomed to the plump cook's... Less than palliative speech.

What are yew doing, silly girl? The Chef's voice nearly slapped Nadia's soul from her skinny body. She hastily settled the tea and sweets on her tray. Nadia shook her head. She spent so much of her days fearing the plump woman's slap and bark that she was imagining things. But what was she doing? Nadia found herself pressed against the side of the dim servant's halls, the voices in the Great Hall echoing like the growl of beasts. She could hear Degal's distinct scrape, the Great Duke's low rumble, his Captain's tense growl, Lady Faolan's feminine lilt and a stranger's voice. Nadia struggled to shield her ears and mind from their words but still she heard the trickle of conversation. Quickly, she shuffled down the hallway only to rest her worn, hole-riddled shoes on her skirts and hurl forwards. She swallowed a yelp and jerked the tray upwards before it clattered on the stone. She was balanced precariously on one foot, her eyes squeezed tight, certain that they had heard her and she would lose her only source of income, if not beheaded or banished. Her mother would wither away without the medicine to sustain what was left of her health. No guards came brandishing swords and threatening execution. Nadia shifted herself onto both feed and allowed herself a small, quiet sigh.

Just as she opened her eyes, a guard strode past, giving her a strange look. She felt her cheeks flush a crimson more humiliating that its actual cause. Moments after, the Captain was gone. Nadia inched her way into the Great Hall, her head bowed so low, it was a marvel that she could see where she was going at all. In fact, she did not. When she was halfway across the fearsome room - she'd always imagined it resembling a dragon's belly - she realised she was walking away from the Duke and Duchess, rather than towards them. She pivoted around and took haste steps toward the castle's lord. Her skin might've been red from embarrassment had she not been overcome with fear. Nadia felt the colour drain from her with every step. Her heart beat with an uncanny resemblance to one marching for the chopping boards.

"My lord- Duke Ane- Grand Duke of Baile. Duchess of Baile," she choked. What was she meant to say? Greetings? Good afternoon? I apologise for eavesdropping in the halls, I swear I did not mean to? Nothing? "Hello," she said feebly, and immediately had to restrain herself from shattering her skull with the tray in her hands. Nadia curtsied low, her upper body bowed so far forward, it was a surprise that she did not topple over entirely. She held the gold tray above her head for the Duke and Duchess, blessing whoever laid two of everything on it. Never in her relatively short while in the Duke's employ had she come within fifty feet of him. In fact, she could not remember seeing him. Not even in passing. The Grand Duke and Duchess of Baile were in the same basket as Saints, exotic animals, free healers, Queens and Kings. Somewhere out there she was certain they existed, but she'd never truly grasped their livelihoods with her own eyes. She found herself cursing The Chef for sending her on this mission, or rather, the impossible business of the entire palace staff. The usual servants who brought the Duke trays and news were hastily arranging the last of tonight's events.

"T-the Chef was wondering if we should prepare food for the" - whawers - "jesters," she said, steadying her trembling voice as much as she could. She felt impossibly inadequate in the grandeur of the Great Hall and the nobles before her. Nadia was aware of her olive dress that never once failed in draining whatever was left of the sun's golden glow from her skin. She prayed to every deity known to man that the Duke and Duchess would forgive her her failures and, preferably, completely forget her existence the moment she left. "The preparations for tonight are complete. For the most part, Grand Duke," she added. She angled her body slightly towards Lady Faolan. "Welcome back to Castle Casiel, Duchess," she said, scrambling for whatever little knowledge she had of the nobles of the castle. The servants told her Duke Anerin was not the first and that he had played with the Lady Faolan in their youth, until her parents, the late Duke and Duchess, were executed. She did not know the reason, but some older servants said the present Duke was responsible. Nadia could not help but empathise with the Duchess' loss. She could never lose her pa or ma, the latter was the reason she was here. "Is there anything that you require?" she asked both, or perhaps the stretch of distance in between.