Taryn Shadow-Walker (
get_off_my_lawn) wrote in
imperial_stage2012-07-09 10:40 am
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The Awen Moot
Who: Taryn Shadow-Walker, any members of Awen and visiting fellows
What: The Moot aka Awen Court
When: Backdated to the night of June 27thbecause I suck (half moon)
Where: Alilany
Warnings: there will be some combat and bloodshed
Notes: Here is a reference for how Moots are done in the Werewolf: the Apocalypse canon that Taryn is based off of. There are some differences, like being held on the half moon instead of full moon and the structure is a lot looser. Anyone that ICly looked into what a 'moot' is will find some very old tales mentioning wolf 'beastmen' and how they would gather every month to reaffirm themselves. And that's about it.
Alilany was always a rustic, peaceful city in Lerrian, full of beastmen, fae and some humans. Very tribal with little technology, more magic, and sense of home to any that were able to relax in the forests that surrounded the capital of Awen. Even the Warders, the special beastmen guard the capital were rarely seen, blending into the environment easily. But with the Moot, it was different.
Now, the spiritual center that Alilany was became more pronounced as the shamans went about cleansing the city and preparing it, as if the receive Gaia herself. Who knew, perhaps Mother Earth would grace the Moot with her presence. Earthy music filtered through the air - drums and pipes, but mostly drums - and the large clearing in the center of the city was ready for those who wished to participate in the Moot - be it spiritual communication, airing of grievances, petitions to the Ar-Righ, or simply the Revel at the end. The Warders were far more visible, meeting and greeting any foreign dignitaries that chose to attend. Weaponry was allowed at the Moot, for only a fool would draw their weapon at a Moot outside of formal challenge, so there was no need to ban them. Awen was, after all, a strong nation if small.
There was no throne in the clearing for the Ar-Righ to sit upon. No, that wasn't how Taryn or her lineage did things. Instead, there was a large boulder containing some of the gemstones from Arird to the southern end of the clearing, big enough to serve a similar function as a throne, with torches on either side and trophies from the battle with the Raiders on display. In the very center of the clearing was an impressive bonfire, easily controlled by the shamans nearby. Musicians to one side, others were seated on the ground or standing around and there was no specific place for the foreign dignitaries. If they were expecting special seating, they wouldn't find any favor, though if they moved to position themselves close to the rock, Taryn would have room made for them.
With a loud howl that carried and echoed off the trees, Taryn called the Moot with the ceremonial tribute. Beastmen of all sorts raised their voices to join her, howling, growling, warbling and even some of the humans mimicked the wolf's howl. The drums and other music faded so all that could be heard was the beautiful chorus of the people of Awen calling out to the land. After a few seconds, the Opening Howl ended and there was silence save for the crackling of the bonfire and any quiet muttering from those visiting that didn't know what to expect.
What: The Moot aka Awen Court
When: Backdated to the night of June 27th
Where: Alilany
Warnings: there will be some combat and bloodshed
Notes: Here is a reference for how Moots are done in the Werewolf: the Apocalypse canon that Taryn is based off of. There are some differences, like being held on the half moon instead of full moon and the structure is a lot looser. Anyone that ICly looked into what a 'moot' is will find some very old tales mentioning wolf 'beastmen' and how they would gather every month to reaffirm themselves. And that's about it.
Alilany was always a rustic, peaceful city in Lerrian, full of beastmen, fae and some humans. Very tribal with little technology, more magic, and sense of home to any that were able to relax in the forests that surrounded the capital of Awen. Even the Warders, the special beastmen guard the capital were rarely seen, blending into the environment easily. But with the Moot, it was different.
Now, the spiritual center that Alilany was became more pronounced as the shamans went about cleansing the city and preparing it, as if the receive Gaia herself. Who knew, perhaps Mother Earth would grace the Moot with her presence. Earthy music filtered through the air - drums and pipes, but mostly drums - and the large clearing in the center of the city was ready for those who wished to participate in the Moot - be it spiritual communication, airing of grievances, petitions to the Ar-Righ, or simply the Revel at the end. The Warders were far more visible, meeting and greeting any foreign dignitaries that chose to attend. Weaponry was allowed at the Moot, for only a fool would draw their weapon at a Moot outside of formal challenge, so there was no need to ban them. Awen was, after all, a strong nation if small.
There was no throne in the clearing for the Ar-Righ to sit upon. No, that wasn't how Taryn or her lineage did things. Instead, there was a large boulder containing some of the gemstones from Arird to the southern end of the clearing, big enough to serve a similar function as a throne, with torches on either side and trophies from the battle with the Raiders on display. In the very center of the clearing was an impressive bonfire, easily controlled by the shamans nearby. Musicians to one side, others were seated on the ground or standing around and there was no specific place for the foreign dignitaries. If they were expecting special seating, they wouldn't find any favor, though if they moved to position themselves close to the rock, Taryn would have room made for them.
With a loud howl that carried and echoed off the trees, Taryn called the Moot with the ceremonial tribute. Beastmen of all sorts raised their voices to join her, howling, growling, warbling and even some of the humans mimicked the wolf's howl. The drums and other music faded so all that could be heard was the beautiful chorus of the people of Awen calling out to the land. After a few seconds, the Opening Howl ended and there was silence save for the crackling of the bonfire and any quiet muttering from those visiting that didn't know what to expect.
Cracking of the Bone
"For those joining us that have no idea what is going on, worried about ceremony and social mistakes, this is the time in which I will hear my people's concerns, requests and grievances may be aired," Taryn explained. "I will hear one at a time and if discussion is needed, those involved may add to it, but keep in mind, the decision I make is final. Luna hides half her face tonight, so tempers will stay calm."
Her lips curl then, flashing a bit of fang. "This is also the time for formal challenges can be issued should more... human means of settling disputes fails. Formal challenges are things of honor and are to be treated as such to those visiting us from other kingdoms. While within Awen borders, only a coward turns down an honorable challenge. These are not merely means to get rid of rivals. Dishonorable acts within the Challenge Circle will be dealt with by me personally."
Relaxing, Taryn then gestures to the gathering. "Speak now."
[ooc: Start a new thread for each thing to be brought to Taryn. It is possible to threadjack if it is something of discussion. Any challenges, must be brought before Taryn and then issued to the one in question. i.e. "Ar-Righ, I wish to issue a challenge." Then the character turns to whoever they are challenging, calls them out and states exactly why they are challenging that character.]
Cracking of the Bone
"I have come as Dictator of Rome, the named Successor of the Rose Empress to request a formal Alliance with Awen." His cloak shifts a bit, exposing more of the white demi-armor, and the massive warrior beneath. Few here outside of Taryn outmass or tower over him, but he seems to be trying to keep his threatening presence on a tight leash. Garviel is consciously biting any arrogance or sting out of his words with effort. His face is pale in the half-moon, and a keen observer might catch the presence of a few sigils of the New Moon on him, a nod to his ancient role in the Mournival of Horus Lupercal.
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"For what reason other than a shared border do you wish such?"
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"There are also mercantile considerations as well. An open and friendly border benefits us both with safe trade routes, and there are many that would welcome what Awen can provide in Rome, and it is my hope that perhaps the citizens of Awen would welcome Roman goods as well."
Another brief pause.
"Cultural exchange would also be a welcome byproduct of such an alliance. Rome has much to learn from you all about.... nature and the world that surrounds them, as concerned as we are with building cities and researching the crystals. And in return, the university of Onylith offers much in way of knowledge about the crystals, and other matters of research various and sundry. It is the center of a research project to defeat the plague that has beset us all, even now, and we would welcome any who wished to contribute from your lands. We'll share the results of what we find regardless of the decision made today, for such research is done for the good of all, but this is simply an example of the sort of valuable information and culture we are willing to share with you."
He finishes with this, "The last reason is personal. I believe I can trust you. We rarely agree, and often anger each other, but in the end, you are a being of blood and honor. I can deal with such." Far more easily than he can deal with Aznable, Mitsunari, or the damnable Fuhrer, he thinks to himself.
At the end of this, Garviel goes very silent. Outside of inspiring his men in battle, or making a plea to the noble heart of a fellow warrior, he rarely likes to speak this much. Better to contemplate for a long time, and do what must be done when the time comes. The moment clearly weighs on him, his light skin growing a bit paler as he talks, though his grey eyes show little, either in warmth, or anger.
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But there was more going on than just her own rage. And his rage. She could smell it on him.
"As I think over the state of Dagaria and the situation we all find ourselves in, I recognize the wisdom in such an alliance. I am inclined to agree to it, but I have two questions for you before I make a final decision," she said, her eyes never leaving Garviel's.
"First, why do you call yourself 'dictator'? And secondly, our lands honor different gods - gods that are at odds with one another - and you and I serve similar purposes to our god. Would this alliance hold any weight when you speak with your god?"
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"I call myself dictator because I will never presume to call myself an Emperor. I am not of noble blood, nor was I designated a Princeps, or Imperator by the Senate. I was designated by Nero herself in extremis, and found the title of a man given sole power during an emergency... for a limited time period. I have no desire for dynastic rule, simply to safeguard Rome. Thus, I went to the old codexes, and found a title I could bear, without making myself into a pretender."
He pauses. The implication being clear enough. Garviel sees himself as a protector of Rome, a ruler for a time. Therefore.... at some point he will be choosing a successor. Whether that complicates or simplifies things for Taryn and Awen is up to her.
"I am not a man of personal religion, though I honor and acknowledge it as part of Dagaria." It seems to have been like eating nails for Garviel to say that sentence, bitterness and anger roiling off him in nigh-visible waves. "I do, however, have an allegiance to the Master of Mankind, as he was once known. But he trusts my judgement, and will allow me to rule Rome as I wish. Humanity would not be benefitted by a war between Rome and Awen, nor would... Nature." He ventures a guess that she reveres Viridi in some manner, though she calls it Gaia, and that thoroughly confuses him.
"If you speak of Viridi, I have.... had words with her. I will admit I often disagree with her dictates, and her demands, but we are able to at least speak with one another. You will note Rome does not ravage the world in the way that Amestris does, and what industry we have tends to be magical, rather than overtly destructive. We're a nation of scholar, warriors, and stone-masons, rather than the great forges and mills that cast a pall to the south of us both."
He frowns, obviously trying to balance his words. "We both have our allegiances to our masters. I would say that cooperation, rather than blades and claws to the throat, will serve us both. This continent, indeed, this world, sees enough of war and corruption from the Rift. For that is anathema to us all. We are but servants, though. You cannot disobey your lord, and cast aside your honor any more than I could. I think it is incumbent on us as rulers to find a way to stand back to back with honor, and convince our lords this is the best route by example, rather than argument."
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But the matter of the gods was a different one. She didn't agree with his view, nor did she like how hypocritical he was being. Angry about there being gods, considering himself secular, and yet a god's chosen warrior. She bristles a little, but controls her rage far better than he was.
"Gaia is not my master, Cerberus. She is my mother - spiritually speaking - and not my master. And like all children when it comes to their parents, I don't always agree with her." More specifically, her methods, but so far she hasn't had to speak up. Some humans need to be culled. "It would be best if you remembered that."
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"I see. Well... I can understand the idea of a spiritual parent myself." After all, what else was the Emperor to the Astartes if not their Grandfather. He nods to her comment about the nature of her relationships with and disagreements with Gaia. "I shall keep it in mind at all times."
He'll let Taryn direct the flow of the conversation now. He has made his request, he won't come to her home and be demanding and proud. His own appearance has made her hackles rise enough, he can already see.
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Some of the braver beastmen had clambered onto the dragon's back in lieu of finding alternate seating. First the hawk beastmen like some manner of roosting bird, then, one at a time, a varied bundle of beastmen and a precious few humans, some dragged aboard by their comrades. Temeraire, used to crewmen scrabbling about on his back, didn't seem to mind in the slightest; only flicking his ruff once.
He did have a reason for being here, besides mere curiosity. When a silence had fallen between the voices, Temeraire's own rumbled out to fill the void.
"Ar-Righ," and here he paused, briefly. Was this the place to ask...? "Could you teach me, to roar as you did during the battle?"
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"I can try, Temeraire," she replied. "Gaia's gifts are hard to learn for one who doesn't hold rage deep within their hearts. If it is possible, we will accomplish it, but understand it won't be easy and you will most likely discover a part of yourself you don't like during the course."
A pause. "And learning such secrets requires compensation, young dragon. What can you offer in exchange?" She smiled. "And as I'm not sure if we can even accomplish the task, it need not be much."
can I have my short term memory back brain that would be nice
He hadn't given much thought to what being a dragon meant, besides most of the world being quite wrong. He was most certainly not a mere beast, and only savage when he wished, or there was fighting to be had, or...well.
...and he did so like those shiny gems that Bradley had given him, even though they were safely ensconced in a bank now, he dreaded to be parted from them.
"I can offer my service once more; not forever, should Kushana return, I must go to her side at once, but in the interim..."
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"The Ar-Righ is most kind," the dragon's voice is much lighter in tone now. "What must I do?"
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If they could get the mining equipment to Arird quickly, they could possibly have some of the gems harvested by Summer Court.
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Revan steps forward while saying this, his cloak wrapped around him as he drew himself to a halt. He had waited until last for a reason. After a moment, he bent slightly at the waist in deference to Taryn.
"Shall I?"
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"Make your challenge, Revan."
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With one more sweep of his cloak, he turned to face everyone.
"People. Since the beginning of time, one rule has always held true. The victor is always right. He sets the rules, he makes the history. That is the purpose of these challenges.
And today, I challenge one who stands in the audience now. The current ruler of Rome! I decree that this man is too addled and weak to even be fit to lead a company of soldiers, much less a nation. While the outcome of this challenge will have no effect on his position, it will give me the satisfaction of knowing the correct answer.
If that ruler disagrees with my statement, then he is free to accept my challenge."
He had waited until last for the very reason of garnering more attention. His reasons for this challenge were obvious. If Revan won, he just might cause trouble enough in Rome to make it ripe for the picking. Whether or not he actually believed what he said was irrelevant in the larger picture.
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"Your challenge is accepted!"
He hands off his cloak to one of his retainers, exposing his bare, powerful arms, and consciously unclenches his fists, his fingernails trailing rich blood where they have dug into his palms. He bears only a Gladius. A functional blade, well crafted, but no match for his chainsword or bolter, left at home to be repaired and tested for the battles to come.
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"Shamans! Prepare the Circle!"
A handful of shamans moved to the largest area of the clearing, the fire dying down again, and went to action. One drew a large circle twenty yards in diameter in the ground with a sand-like substance that reflected the moon and torch-light while another muttered incantations, charging the sand with magic. It made its presence felt mystically by any near it, so those that would soon be within it would always know where the edge of the circle is.
"Your challenge, your disagreement, exists within the Challenge Circle. It is a place of honor and I will be watching for dishonorable acts. Keep this challenge within the circle. Do not attempt to force the other out." Taryn walked between the two men. "Revan, state the victory terms of this challenge. Cerberus, you will choose to either agree to them or counter with different terms. If you cannot come to an agreement on these terms, you may beseech me to set them for you."
She looked between both men, meeting their eyes with her own dominant gaze. "No matter the terms, within the Circle you will always accept an honorable surrender. And once this challenge has ended, this dispute has ended. Understood? Good."
The Ar-Righ then stepped back to the fire where she could observe the challenge.
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"The terms shall be this. When one of us can no longer fight, the other will be declared victor. Death will be barred, however."
Revan was under no illusion of easy victory. Garviel had a massive power advantage over him, that was for sure. Revan had not even once fully exposed how he really fought, even in the thick of battle. But now, he knew he'd need it to even just fight evenly.
Both of his lightsabers came free of their clips at his waist. One was normally kept hidden so two would have been a surprise for anyone. One ignited with a molten red color and the other ignited in dark purple.
"Do you accept?"
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"I am Dakren Khan of the Dragons of the Sands!" he announces in a booming, somewhat hollow voice. "I would treat with she who claims rulership of this tribe."
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"I am the Ar-Righ, Taryn Shadow-Walker." She meets his eyes, head held high, as confident in her position as ever. "What business do you have with me?"
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Dakren kneels before Taryn and produces a giant egg from the folds of his cloak.
"This egg will birth a Queen Drake, a fitting gift for you. My men have left two clutches of Firedrake eggs outside your encampment, they are yours to use as you see fit."
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"I welcome your gift and accept it. We of Awen also acknowledge your strength," she replied. "You and your men are welcome to join us for the Revel and enjoy the feast, not as enemies, but as fellow warriors. The choice is yours and no insult will be taken if you take your leave."
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"We are honored by your offer, but it is time for us to go. My people have been too long from the sands, and with our business in Dagaria complete, it is time that we return. You were a noble enemy, Lady Wolf, may we cross blades again in days to come."
And with that, Dakren turns and strides out of the encampment.