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Topics - Sorcha o Naur

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Polod Province / Event: Welcome to the Jungle
« on: August 31, 2019, 12:08:54 PM »
It was never advisable for Sorcha to come here but she was the queen of this territory, she would check the gate was safe. She believed Leas when the Cervini told her it was so but her priestess understood when Sorcha had to see for herself. Her grandmother had done the same and the woman before her and the woman before her. To shirk tradition now when she was working to get the people behind her would destroy what she'd painfully built. Dea al Mon demanded a strong queen and Sorcha would be that queen. It was necessary to see the gate and to check the part of the shield not far from it.

It was not as if she was unsafe, her red guard surrounded her and the gate guard would be there. The red guard was the one thing she could not stamp down this day. Too many murmurs and rumors of darkness in the world and movements of her cousin. To do this one thing, Sorcha had had to bend. So she'd bent. Now she strode confidently, steps sure and shoulders back, her most trusted beside and to the back of her. Only the trusted would be behind her ever. Blades ever-present at her hips and thighs. Sorcha was prepared for anything.

Pomp and circumstance saw her to the gate and she had hoped Leas would be here but the priestess was off visiting that man of hers. Men. Sorcha never knew what to do with them but she could no deny Leas her wish. Bows and scrapes, Sorcha ignored and spoke with the apprentice of her priestess. The girl had promise so Leas had told her, she was attentive and good at explaining, showing and telling Sorcha that the gate was well. Nothing had tried to come through and they expected nothing.

"Good," she told the girl, "My spider has told me, the usurper is moving towards the gate. Make sure Leas posts double the guard, shields, and traps need to be laid.... What is that?" Sorcha's brows furrowed, drawn down at the twitching of the gate. A sheen shimmered across the opening and she snarled, "Nothing comes through! Man your positions! Arm yourselves now!" Barking orders, blades in her hands without her knowledge and Sorcha readied what she would need. She could feel something dark behind her and she spun to see a pale wolf creeping forward.

"Sorcha!" her rearguard, her best friend called to her, "Look!" Sorcha tore her gaze from the golden sight of the wolf's piercing eyes and looked to the gate again. A sheen that shimmered, pulsed with darkness, light, and darkness as the magic of the gate calmed again. "What the fuck?" she whispered to herself before a lash of craft magic slapped her in the face. The wolf behind her howled in pain and terror. The force of the wildcraft brought her to her knees, shields thrown around her people on top of the personal ones quickly placed. Shields that slipped and slid away from her grasp.

*What have you done?! What have you done?! Idiot child!*

Something slammed into her personal shield, sliding through it like nothing. Her brain was rattled and she shook her head to clear the ringing. Shaky probes streaked with reds and blood opals flared from her to slide over the wolf and beyond. She knew the taste of that caste. Warlord Prince and something similar she had tasted before. She knew it and didn't and couldn't place it but she would. *Stupid girl with your stupid war! Look what you have done!* the wolf growled and snarled in her face, a thread on the distaff boiling her mind. He was knocked a side as a flank guard slapped him with a thread of craft, always their job was never forgotten.

Hazel eyes dazed and clearing, she screamed at the pain of the wild craft. Screamed again when she saw the wide-open eyes of her rearguard. Her best friend and confidant. Her lover when times called for it. Lifeless and limp. Smashed by the craft that had slapped them all. Probes slammed back to her. Slammed back into her mind to tell her the truth. The truth of it. *Sorcha the winds are gone,* the spider's voice slid into her mind on the sapphire and Sorcha knew Isolde was not far, *They spit me out about a mile away. I don't know what is happening*.

Probes thrown out again, solid with the red of her offering jewel and when they came back to her, Sorcha's mind reeled with the knowledge. Her probes were telling her something her mind could not comprehend just yet and she mulled them, twisted them and tasted them before her eyes widened. Widened as she watched the wolf rage and hiss and snarl in the grip of craft threads. *Idiot, stupid child. It's gone! Do you not see!? GONE! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!*, the wolf that was Wulfric Grimm screamed into her mind on a thread of red.

The shield around Dea al Mon was gone. 

Dea al Mon was exposed to the rest of the realm and she had not done it.

Estel Province / Red Riding Hood
« on: February 15, 2019, 03:31:01 PM »

The dark never bothered her, she always prefered the darkness to the light, her grandmother blamed the lack of a maternal figure in her life. But Sorcha never minded. The whispers and quiet sound of a forest during the night were soothing and for a moment the turmoil of Sorcha’s mind drifted in that softness. Such chaos. Such lies that drifted to her through the webs. Webs of her own making and webs of her spy network. Every thing giving her something to use and something that could bring her down.

”Remember what I tell you here, Sorcha,” came the voice of one of few she could trust, ”She will not rest until your head is taken. Watch your webs and watch your shadows. Trust the ones who will come.” The voice trailed as they moved away back into the trees, back into the darkness and back to her webs. ”Do not forget my warnings.”

Isolde was always cryptic and Sorcha knew before she opened her mouth to agree that her spy was gone. Beloved and adored, Isolde was the only person Sorcha could trust in her cousin’s camp. Trust that the other woman wouldn’t be turned traitor, turned into her cousin’s way of thinking. Sorcha moved silently and smoothly, senses tracking out, her bond with the land growing more and more each time she came out here.

She let her queen craft flow, each tree and every blade of grass cleaving to her presence, touching and soft Sorcha fed her craft into the land. The tangled web that Isolde had given her dangled from her hand as the Queen’s Gift dripped from her fingers. Sol’s webs were always intricate and wildly woven, they were nearly as impossible for Sorcha to decipher as Nahamme’s, but Sorcha would keep it where it would be safe. Queen craft touching the land that was hers, welcomed with open arms by the soil that was hers to love.

Queen craft drifting and claiming and touching. Touching something that had not been there before and Sorcha’s training had her head up and searching. Probes tangled out, searching and searching. There. Sliding over.. Wolf. She grinned. She did not fear the wolves of Dea al Mon. Sorcha welcomed their wildness and this one was a little more than wolf.

“Hello,” she called out softly as probes tried to name what she asked and they could not. Interesting, “Won’t you come say hello?”


Estel Province / Webs and witches
« on: December 30, 2018, 06:34:32 PM »
Venom nail tapped against the table, golden hair sleek against her scalp and Sorcha waited. Waited for the woman she did not like but needed far more than she cared to admit. Nahammë could do things with a web and frame that Sorcha could only wish at, her talents lay more in her queen craft than her black widow. Her grandmother had tried but the queen in her was stronger, more deadly than anything else she might have.

She hated not knowing and there were things happening she did not know. Things she only suspected. She could not get her webs to tell her fully and had been forced to call for Nahammë. It was enough to think her name for a snarl to grow on her lips, pointed ears reddening with irritation. It was jealousy that caused such a rift between Sorcha and her seer though she would never admit it. She would never give Nahammë the pleasure of knowing Sorcha hated that the woman was better at something than she was.

Sighing she forced her lips to stillness, forced her body to relax. Mustn't give Nahammë any ammo. Face schooled to blankness Sorcha waited and waited.

Finally the thorn in her side made her appearance, Sorcha refusing to stand as she sat behind the large hardwood desk that had belonged to her grandmother. "What have your webs told you?" she demanded not bothering to sugar coat or pet the woman, "Have they told of a jewel dark enough to cause worry?" She could admit without admitting that her own webs, murky as they were, had spoken of a jewel so dark she should fear it but the Red Queen did not fear it. She wanted to exploit it and everything that it could accomplish for her.


Dea al Mon Archives / Eye for an Eye
« on: November 04, 2018, 07:18:28 PM »
Rumors. Guilt. Threats.

She could never leave it behind. Never forget what had made her queen, venom nail tapped against the table she leaned over. Maps and plans and missives from various Black Guard. Her kingdom was falling down all around her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Short of killing her cousin, Sorcha had to win it fairly. She had taken the throne on the crest of her grandmother's death much to the detriment of that planned for acceptance. Amidst the mourning and terrible sadness, Sorcha had done what she needed to do. A ruthlessness her grandmother and father had driven deep inside her had forced her to do so.

A ruthlessness that even now would send however many of her people she deemed necessary to their deaths. Her cousin commanded their own company of soldiers, fodder for those who served Sorcha. The queen couldn't take into account who those people would be leaving behind when they came to battle. Friends. Lovers. Children. All these were pushed aside and forgotten in the wake of a win. Sorcha couldn't afford her compassion right now.

Moving away from the table, a dagger appeared in her hand, fingers twirling the blade deftly as Sorcha paced the confines of her meeting room. She knew if she could simply dispatch her cousin, the rumors would die down and the people of Dea al Mon would accept her as their territory queen as they had her grandmother. She needed them to accept her before the shield surrounding the territory collapsed and sent the area spinning out of control. It was inevitable. The shield flickered even now, Sorcha's red weirdly in tune with that invisible layer and she could feel the moment it was weakest. Weak enough to allow the entrance of an outsider.

Spinning she faced the other occupant in the room, Fechith had been highly recommended by her commander in the Black Guard. A woman who knew her worth, her strength and ability enough to land her in the most dangerous of squadrons. Sorcha couldn't have done better in her opinion. "Has there been any leads?" she demanded of the woman, "Anything I can use against my cousin?" She wanted her cousin to be guilty of her grandmother's death, she didn't want to find the culprit to be those who professed their loyalty to her. It was easier to place the blame on her enemies.


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