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Post by Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D) on Dec 17, 2007 19:26:05 GMT -5
“Ah, I see,” I replied quietly. I had hoped he would have traveled mayhap to Aragonia, or to other countries, but the border it was. Fair and well then. “I’m curious,” I said with a smile. “One of your famous brothers, Joscelin de Verreuil, had rather interesting connections to the Unforgiven. Have those links transpired through these days, then?”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on Dec 20, 2007 23:01:34 GMT -5
I raised my brow at his question. I wondered if he had originally sat to talk politics. While some of my brothers relished the topic I did not. I found it to be painful and largely uninteresting. All I cared for was the blade and the battlefield. I let others worry about the paperwork.
I shrugged a little, "perhaps, but they are not ties which I hold."
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Post by Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D) on Dec 21, 2007 16:53:33 GMT -5
"Oh," I replied, not quite reacting. "That's interesting. I guess such things do wane over time," I added nonchalantly. I was cradling my drink, and took another sip of it with a smile. "I've never been to Camlach, but many have," I added whimsically. "The ocean does please me more than the mountains. It's everchanging cruelty is simply beautiful."
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on Dec 27, 2007 18:06:16 GMT -5
I could actually related a little to what Yvan was saying. A changing cruelty that is sometimes beautiful. At times an army is like that, a wave of those who are killing. But those who are killing for a purpose one that you hope is just. Even if your purpose is simple survival it can still be just in it's own light.
Voicing my thoughts I said, "I felt that way when I was at war, many years ago. A wave of us moving through and being cruel, but there was a beauty in that. We were fighting for what we believed in just as our enemies were. A battle of wills."
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Post by Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D) on Dec 29, 2007 14:59:23 GMT -5
“It sounds indeed sumptuous in its own way,” I replied with a pensive smile. I dug in my readings, and fetch a piece of lore that might yet be of use.
“Battle is an art, just like painting and sculpting,” I said after a while. “A battle of wills… man against stone, striving to extract from it the essence of a vision…” I paused, and cocked my head, “I think of all the battles, though, that I would have wished to witness, and to commit to memory for future representation, is the battle of the Temple of Asherat.” No doubt, the Cassiline would understand my meaning. Joscelin Verreuil’s duel with David de Rocaille no Rinforte had to be a turning moment in the history of the brotherhood… an anathema, dueling to death with a Cassiline who was about to assassinate his regent. I could only imagine it had left an indelible imprint on the order.
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on Dec 30, 2007 17:30:53 GMT -5
I nodded, any brother who was taken in after the even was told of the event and many who already had their daggers issued were related the news as well. In fact stories of Joscelin were told often, even if he went against his vows in the end.
"It was a momentous time and he was a great man. One can only hope to be better than adequate and half as good."
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Post by Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D) on Dec 31, 2007 17:28:45 GMT -5
His comment was cryptic – who was great? The anathema or the traitor? For my part, I found David de Rocaille to have been other stupid and cunning, and consistent, if not brave, until the end. That alone commanded respect. Verreuil, as far as I was concerned, had skill and would have made probably a sublime model, the epitome of deadly skill and avenging grace, but he was too… too good for my tastes. He lacked the edge of darkness that renders one fascinating to me.
Merely, I nodded, and conceded, “Greatness is rare and should be revered when it is met.” I drummed on the table absently, and said, after a while, “How’s the liquor?”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on Jan 1, 2008 21:31:51 GMT -5
I nodded at Yvan's comment but made no more further. I am not one who is skilled at conversation so I waited till his next question to speak. "It is good," I said in honesty, "I do thank you for the offer." Then, in a rare moment of curiosity I said, "does the Le Poulet Gauche supply this simply for you or do you just happen to know that they hide it?"
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Post by Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D) on Jan 2, 2008 0:56:26 GMT -5
“I just leave this bottle here for my convenience,” I told him. “I can’t drink the diluted soap they serve here as liquor. It’s enough to make the strongest plundered vomit and cry for his mother.” I lifted my gaze a little and added, cockily, “I am above such things.”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on Jan 7, 2008 20:55:03 GMT -5
Yvan was a strange man, though I am sure he had been told before. Strange and apparently to good for the liquor but not to good for the bar. That I did not understand.
"One gets use to such things when it is the only option," I said. While the brotherhood was revered in battle delicate tastes are put on the back burner. Sometimes one is without and at others one must drink whatever he gained from the enemy.
I decided to test him a little, and his strange statement. "Fine drink is good and a pleasure at times, but one knows they truly have a heart and a stomach if they can consume the fire of a poor man and still arise fresh and ready for battle the next day."
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Post by Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D) on Jan 9, 2008 12:50:45 GMT -5
Consume the fire of a poor man?
It took me a moment to understand his words – for a bit, I had thoughts of violent pain, and evil deeds. Then there it was, etched in my mind, the memory of my mother’s kinsmen, the fires on the beach, the tide to take on the morrow. They were traders, they said. Betimes, I thought of them as pirates. My uncle certainly had a large cutlass. I wondered if Prince Pieter had ever bothered to visit the poorer isles, or if he’d only ever been in Epidauro.
“Such is the necessity of adventure,” I replied with a shrug. “One cannot go traveling and fighting, and hope to retain the comforts of home.”
I took another sip of liquor, and added, “But there’s nothing wrong with a good Bourbon once in a while.”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on Jan 10, 2008 21:18:08 GMT -5
I sipped the offered bourbon as well, "no, nothing wrong with it." I thought of the younger soldiers who sometimes joined us. Soldiers who were not usually from the brotherhood who had been coddled and complained and cried about the minimals we had to put up with. I wondered if Yvan would handle such a place or not. He did not really come across as someone soft, but he did seem to enjoy his luxury a lot.
"I find the roads of war more comfortable at times than the roads of the city. You are never board and you don't have to put up with people who have ever set foot more than an hour's ride from their front door. At times I'd rather deal with an enemy with a blade then a sniveling woman."
In truth I loved the feel of running my blade into someone deserving, the power that came with it. The ability that I possessed. I was not a great master, but I had gotten along pretty well so far my injuries having only been cuts and bruises.
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Post by Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D) on Jan 11, 2008 16:57:02 GMT -5
I nodded, paying heed to his words. Something told me that besides the fact that he and I were in complete disagreement as far as killing went, we shared the same lust for blood. I wondered, though, if Zacharie had any interest in pain –an appetite such as mine, I had not encountered, for I enjoyed it for myself, and even more so in others… but without the pleasure the Kusheline so relished. Pain and pleasure were the same to me – it was both atonement and depravation.
I laughed a little, and nodded. “There were good times on the road,” I conceded, not commenting on his words about the killing. “You do important work,” I replied quietly. “No doubt those who live to protect are to be revered even more deeply than those who obey the simple call of duty.”
I cocked my head, and asked, quietly, “Have you ever set sail?”
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on Jan 13, 2008 20:20:00 GMT -5
I had been on a craft once, but it was a long time ago, even before my time as a Cassaline. In fact it was that time that helped me build up the toughness I needed to convince the brotherhood I should even be allowed. Including convincing the one person who knew I was in fact a female.
I never divulged my youth to anyone, though. So I said, "the brotherhood has not required me to travel by sea yet, so only by land. However, if they asked I would do so."
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Post by Yvan-Etienne d'Lantier(D) on Jan 13, 2008 20:58:32 GMT -5
I nodded. "It's another kind of travail," I replied with pride. "Not all who do so well on land have the foot for such endeavors. I've seen many a proud and confident warrior churn their loins and turn green upon the tide."
I chuckled. It was one of the fondest memories of my youth. One does not foster in Illyria for 7 years without learning to be an effective sailor and a great cutlass wielder. Nonetheless, I still prefered to throw, rather than wield. Call it... natural inclinations.
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Post by Zacharie nó Robere(D) on Jan 20, 2008 20:09:15 GMT -5
I nodded, my drink was finished and he was starting to bore me. He was strange, but I had plenty of strange people on the battlefield. I stood up and gave him a polite nod. Thank you for the drink and the conversation. I must be going now, however, duty calls.
I left him some coin for the drink and then made my way back out of the bar. back to my life of being proper and babysitting.
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