Judge, Jury and...

Judge, Jury and...

Postby Jirai » Mon Jun 10, 2013 8:33 am

"I am sure, Gloria, that you shall put your skills as a rhetor to the best use in this case. I know you have been corresponding with Coriolanus Helstone - he is a skilled barrister and doubtless you have learned much from him. You have come quite far in the few short months you have been with us here in Myrken Wood."

It was a small, out of the way room, largely empty and lacking in decoration. That was a rather unfortunate fact, one that would have to be remedied, but for now, the room suited. The governor's lady was already seated, a helmed knight in full armor standing at her side. There were two constables by the door and everyone in the room wore Rhaena Olwak's sigil.

"It is a nasty business, of course, but it must be done. If you are quite ready, we will bring her in."
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Rance » Mon Jun 10, 2013 9:47 am

I am sure, Gloria, that you shall put your skills as a rhetor to the best use in this case.

She had been drinking broth when she'd received the letter; she had been studying her mathematics, taking notes on the edges of the page in Jernoan, when the letter had come to her at the Broken Dagger. Heralded by one of Rhaena Olwak's armored escorts, the girl received it with haste, scarcely thinking to wipe the gravy from a lip-corner.

An invitation. A formal statement would be requested. A trial. Her immediate presence was required.

You have come quite far in the few short months you have been with us here in Myrken Wood.

A matter involving the storyteller.

She accompanied the heavily-plated fellow in silence, shrinking under his presence, twisting her knuckles into her skirts the whole time. When they arrived, it was all a matter of the utmost formality -- the room was sparse, undecorated, still stagnant with old dust. The seamstress stood stiffly amid a small court of those around her -- and perhaps it was awkward, perhaps it was improper, that she was as motionless as a scarcecrow and still clutched her book of On Mathymatics and Fractions against her chest.

She looked upon Rhaena Olwak, and her first question -- before she answered the other -- was, "Where should you like me to sit?"

It is a nasty business, of course, but it must be done.

And she would like to do it while sitting.

She did not see eyes or mouths, smiles or frowns. And while the armor was polished and fine, what she saw most clearly amid those gathered were the tiara-and-vine sigils they bore. The symbol of Rhaena Olwak. The little brooch in the same likeness attached to the lapel of her sun-faded dress did not feel so new anymore, or so special. But her gloved fingers touched it, a reminder.

"Of course I am not ready," she admitted, reaching a hand out toward a chair, any chair, wanting to sit, shrink, disappear. "But you may bring her in as you please, Menna Olwak."

The storyteller. The old woman. Giver of the Dream, rumored speaker of the story that brought into this wretched place the thing that had devoured children, children--

eleven children.

The Greatlady.
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Jirai » Mon Jun 10, 2013 9:59 am

There was a smile for the girl - seamstress, aspiring mathematician and rhetor. She was the only one here wearing a brooch. The constables had their sigil in the form of a patch and the knight's was emblazoned on his armor. Rhaena Olwak, of course, needed no such thing. Not gowned as she was, with the dragon-made tiara crowning her head.

"Sit here, my dear." A gloved hand indicated a chair nearby. "And have faith in yourself. I would not have asked you here if I did not think you able to handle it. We often think ourselves not ready for what life throws at us, but we handle it all the same."

She nodded to the constables at the door and one of them vanished through it. There would be a wait, a few minutes, nothing more. Then the constable would return with two other guards - and between them?

The Storyteller.
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Dulcie » Mon Jun 10, 2013 10:40 am

The Storyteller was led into the room where the trial was to occur, though she looked very little like the woman that they had known before. Gone were threadbare sleeves and patchwork skirts, instead replaced by a a tight fitting, glittering gown of emerald color that hugged to the curves of a youthful body.

It was hard to determine what her face looked like however, a scold's bridle fitted over her face, the metal mask locked about her head with the bit in her mouth that prevented her from talking, only those green eyes peering out from the mask, her bright red hair overflowing from beneath the parts where the metal locked around her.

She'd move without resistance at the hands of the constables, come to face what these people would put upon her.
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Rance » Mon Jun 10, 2013 10:59 am

She did not remember sitting down; she went from standing to not, seating herself in that stiff-spined chair with her book in her lap.

Rhaena's encouragement was heeded, but she did not speak. The girl nodded, tightening her teeth into a brittle ingress. She felt miniscule around all the others gathered, stifled, as if she could simply slither into the floorboards and be gone, unnoticed, perhaps escape this responsibility, this use of her rhetoric.

When the Greatlady was ushered into the room, the seamstress' chair creaked, moaned, for her heels hit the floor and her back leaned back against the wooden frame. The woman bore a shock of red hair, a gown whose richness seemed altogether unfitting. Where were the many-patched skirts, where was the hobbling cane with its green, lacing marks? There were no wrinkles on that skin, or less of them. And the contraption--

--the contraption, encircling the Storyteller's skull like an iron cage, rusted from misuse and jagged at its edges to discourage the jaw from even moving. The seamstress' eyes widened, however, as they fell upon the Storyteller's mouth and the plate of steel lashed to the Storyteller's tongue, like the bill of a duck jutting out from the inside of the bridle's cage.

She wondered how it must taste, to have that cold steel stuffed into one's mouth, grating and scraping against the teeth. Her fingers played at her own lips, but before her gaze could ever meet the once-Greatlady's, the seamstress turned her head, and whispered, "That's not her," to Rhaena--

Not wanting to look upon that devious and horrific restraint, the shackles for a tongue, to keep one from telling--

--stories. Stories and Dreams.

"She was an elderly woman. Feeble. That -- that does not look like her."
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Jirai » Mon Jun 10, 2013 11:52 am

"Appearances can be deceiving, my dear, can they not?" The first words were for Gloria, the last three directed at the woman who had just been brought before them - though Rhaena Olwak was not exactly looking at the Storyteller any longer. She looked through the woman, bronze eyes losing their focus. It was a cue Ariane Emory was wise to, but Ariane Emory was not here. Rhaena waited until she was certain of her control - it would not do to have any stories told right now - and then motioned for the guards to remove the device encircling the woman's head.

"Some creatures can hide their true form. A glamour, of sorts. Much as the creature that lured our children away appeared as a woman with a fiddle, but that was not at all what we found in the cavern. Was it, Storyteller?" She continued without pause. "I do apologize for the contraption, of course, but I find it more secure than a gag, don't you think?"
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Dulcie » Mon Jun 10, 2013 12:00 pm

The bridle would be removed from her, revealing the face of a young woman. Oh there were certainly similarities there in her eyes, but the differences seemed to stop there, her skin smooth and soft. She'd wet her lips carefully, grimacing at the taste of iron that still lingered in her mouth, the contraption a smarter choice than a gag in a number of different ways. She'd smile softly hearing Gloria stating that it was the wrong person who had been captured.

"I'm much inclined to agree with the young lady. I fear there's been a case of mistaken identity here. I did see that horrible cave you spoke of, but there was nothing I could do to go and help the children. Then of course your constables threw me to the ground and brought me here. Tragic really. I'm assuming you'll be letting me go now?" The lie was spoke skillfully, not a story, not something that could be woven into truth, but a simple lie, one intended to gain Gloria's compassion for her plight.
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Rance » Mon Jun 10, 2013 12:29 pm

The contraption, the bridle, was meant to keep her tongue silent, at a pause. Its bent steel and leathers were a bramble of inhospitable coldness -- where in Myrken had they had such a thing forged, for what use had it beyond the freezing of a Storyteller's tongue?

Glamours. Things appearing differently than they were oft perceived. She inclined her chin to Rhaena Olwak, leaning with desperation upon the woman's advice. Her fingers were splayed across the Mathymatics, her short fingernails digging into the tome's cover as the Storyteller spoke.

"I do not want you in agreement with me," the seamstress said, sharp and stern, never looking at the bound woman, but instead off to one side--

In the young woman's imagination, there was a steep pit, wet and musty, stinking of shit and blood, and there were children, eleven children, tumbling from the edge and falling down, down, into the hungry maw of a many-toothed beast -- Cherny on the edge, and behind him, Cat-Talon, and behind the urchin, more, and more, and more...

"A court is not unfair; a trial is your right," she said, as if one of her book was opened before her, and she could read straight from the pages. "If you are not the Greatlady I knew, that will be discovered soon enough. And then we will be done with all of this business. But if you are--"

In her voice, a glamour -- no product of magic or cantrip, but a fabrication of cordwood courage. She never looked at the Storyteller, but instead sought to study her own fingers.

"If you are, be silent. Nothing good comes from you. Nothing."
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Glenn » Tue Jun 11, 2013 1:05 am

Silence.

The knight stood silently, his sword at his side. The helmet covered his face completely. There was no need for it to be on now. He was not in the field of battle. He was not facing an enemy. He needed no such protection, but there it was. The armor was foreboding despite it's vivid colors. Mostly, however, it was how he moved, how he stood, which made him intimidating. Stoic was an understatement. He had been unyielding in his stride, not letting anything distract him or taken in his attention even a little. Now that he was in position, he was unmoving, silent inside and out.

Most of all, though, he was an unknown entity to the Storyteller. She had lived among them for the better part of a year. She had heard all of their tales and shaped a number of them herself, yet here was this man standing as if he belonged nowhere else, an integral part of a Myrken Wood she had not made and did not know.
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Jirai » Tue Jun 11, 2013 3:18 am

Gloria can imagine the scene, what it must have looked like, smelled like, but the imagination is nothing compared to the reality that Rhaena Olwak witnessed. A horror more infuriating than anything else Myrken Wood has thus far offered, rousing the governor's lady to true anger.

And that has led to this.

The bridle is removed, the Storyteller's voice heard, though bereft of its magic for the time being. Words that merited a careful shake of Rhaena's head. "A trial, yes, as the young sera says."

Hands folded neatly in her lap, unfocused gaze turned towards the red-haired woman, Rhaena Olwak spoke.

"Storyteller. You stand accused of, by means of your magic, aiding and allowing the slaughter of eleven of our children."
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Dulcie » Tue Jun 11, 2013 12:23 pm

Gloria spoke and those glittering green eyes watched her carefully, feeling the bite of each and every word. If one were looking close enough they might have even noticed the old woman flinch. Nothing good comes. Nothing. Still, beyond that tiny motion of her body the woman was otherwise still and quiet.

"It seems to me that the name you have given to me already implies that I am guilty. I would prefer that you choose another." She'd say simply, her eyes watching Rhaena's unfocused gaze, her own seeming lost for a moment as well. Thinking many thoughts, remembering oh so many stories in her mind, as if to press at the Mind Witch's abilities.

"I hear your charges, and notice that while there are many here to witness them there are none to stand at my defense. I urge you to consider what kind of trial it is that you're considering here. There are many places who do trials differently of course..." Rhaena was keeping her from telling stories, but there was one there, pressing on the edge of the Mind Witch's control, trying to break free to the Storyteller's lips.
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Rance » Tue Jun 11, 2013 1:32 pm

"Then -- then what would you have us call you? If not Storyteller, if not Greatlady--"

That final word was driven across the table as if it were a distasteful mug of ale.

"--then what," with a smoldering impatience, a hot-sand voice that was unusual for the seamstress, for she had seen that flinch, that almost imperceptible reaction in the Storyteller's body. It had tried to hide beneath the shoulders of that emerald gown, but she saw it. Saw it with the eyes of a girl just before taking her Odos, who knew how to drive her elbows into the guts of younger seamstresses who thought it wise to steal her stitch-sampler.

The Mathymatics was clenched between her knees as if it too were on trial. While perhaps the seamstress spoke out of turn, she felt the need within her brown bones. Those old, wrinkled lips had spoken words about Narkissa, about an Oracle, things that brought to life a Dream -- or so she believed.

"Children being driven like cattle by -- by the will of a song toward a hungry creature," Gloria Wynsee said, taking in a breath and glancing more to Rhaena before she spoke, as if silently asking for the permission to do so. "That was what I heard. And in my beliefs, it -- it would take less of a heart, less than a human, to desire that fate for children. For my friends. Only a human in a court such as this deserves one to stand at their defense."

I urge you to consider what kind of trial it is that you're considering here. A phrase that rang against her skull, made her think of the books Coriolanus Helstone had encouraged her to read. The seamstress touched her brooch and loosened her shoulders.

"Storyteller. Greatlady. Those are names for the abstract. They are just things, no more, no less. If you wish Menna Olwak to treat you as a human?

"Then you ought give us a name to call you, so we might consider you one."
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Jirai » Wed Jun 12, 2013 3:02 am

"Twice I have asked you for a name and twice you have not answered." Months ago it might have been, but Rhaena Olwak remembered. Her voice was calmer than the younger woman's, but the governor's lady was no longer smiling. "What is your name, Storyteller?"

She'd done this before, the dampening of the Storyteller's magic, and it grew no easier with time. That was half the reason for the chair, of course, for Gloria Wynsee. A small motion of her hand urged the would-be rhetor to continue, further words from Rhaena unspoken as she focused her effort on containing that story that attempted to slip past without letting the press of the rest overwhelm.
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Dulcie » Wed Jun 12, 2013 3:16 am

"You haven't asked me for a name." She said looking between Rhaena, the woman and the knight as if verifying the truth behind it. "You have presumed. Finding guilt where you want to find guilt. You ache for the loss of your children, and for that I can empathize. The young are the most beloved amongst us all." And in her voice there'd sound to be a sense of conviction, of truth as she looked towards Gloria, her green eyed gaze settling on her there for a moment. "I believe you are grasping for truths when you've yet to even see the beginnings. Trying to find explanations for the horrible. It is understandable in a place like this one."

She'd pause then, wetting her lips softly as that strain on Rhaena continued to press and press. "My name, is Maggie McLochlan." Another lie of course, but expertly spoken with no hesitation or resistance behind it. Perhaps though, Rhaena could sense the thought in her mind, the way she pulled the name that had been stored away since that first time that Niall had questioned her about it.
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Re: Judge, Jury and...

Postby Rance » Wed Jun 12, 2013 3:41 am

The young are the most beloved amongst us all.

Her nails dug into the face of the book, so gravely, so steadfastly, that she thought the leather would begin peeling away underneath their dirty edges. There was so much talking, too much, and when the Storyteller's eyes ventured toward hers, she turned her own down to the smudged fabric of her dress.

"May -- may we please continue on with the other parts of this," she said to Rhaena Olwak, because the name--

Maggie McLochlan...

--put a weight in her guts and strung lead across her shoulders. Maggie. The lady who told stories. The seamstress had loved the stories; she had once cried on the old woman's knee, had time and time again escorted her to her room -- that was right, that was the way it should be, the elderly demanded comfort, respect, authority if for the achievement of their age. Maggie, the name of a woman who planted the seed of a Dream. For a moment only so long as a blink, the seamstress saw blood on the back of her own knuckles, and her other hand was gone.

But when she blinked again, all was as it had been moments before. They were in the little makeshift court. There was a knight beside them, in his tiara-and-vine sigil and his gleaming armor.

"The more she speaks," the seamstress said to Rhaena, "the longer this takes. The longer it goes on."
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