OOC:
This thread is open by requests! If you're interested, please PM me! This features my character, Katahnia. tags to
@Wycliff
There had been a rise in the North, set among the cracks that divided this world. Since the fall of Ahjfeld, and the Duke of Turgall's rebellion, more and more rebels began to band together, forming much larger armies, with much more powerful arms. Before, they lacked the numbers, the discipline and the funds-
But now as rich lords were falling from their cause, and pillaging was becoming plentiful, soon a massive group of rebels began to take up arms, take up positions, and make claims on a leader whom they had inadvertently brought in with them.
She had come as a captive, tied up and gagged. They were about ready to execute her until some began to recognize her- her name, and her aim. Lady Katahnia- the peaceful rebel who spoke out viciously against the Grand Duke, demanding the laws be held true to what they had once been, and that the mages allowed more freedoms, not less, to live in this world without shame.
Irony struck when rumors began to spread, that this woman with gold-fire hair was some symbol of both peace and war- Where as even grander still, she was beginning to earn the title as
Daughter of Ansgar.Though the lady would deny it, those who found out about her past and believed in her true identity as the crystal duchess only used that to emphasize their point-
That she was obviously blessed by the Gods to inherit so many second chances in order to prove herself against the government, to show herself off as one who speaks of good intents and truth-
and to Carry her banner directly into the capital, to demand the Grand Duke call back his army and bow before her...
For as women of power were beginning to rise in this chaotic moment, it was no surprise those of the rebellion would do the same.
And she had an enormous army at her back side, including the shunned supporters of the Duke of Ardal, and those mages fleeing or running from the camps.
Old soldiers sick of hte battle and sick of the hate joined in too, and soon her numbers were so grand she could no longer take her following in with one eye full.
For they were but one voice, made of many. And were someone to tell her so long ago, in a time before the war that she would rise up to make a change, she would laugh at them.
But here she stood, decked out in the finest of armor carved by the most skilled of black smith, holding a spear and blade coated in gold, and an armor that glowed like the sun set. It was a strange feeling, to have the weight of a weapon in her arms. But ever since she had woken up from this world from the next, she'd been preparing for some sort of battle.
Sure, words were strong with her, but it seemed the time was drawing nearer and nearer where she too, might have to take up arms if she ever wanted to confront the army that has killed and slain so many of magics unjustifiably.
But the weapons were discarded soon after she tried them out. Sure she could wield them, but at what costs? It did make her quite the sight, as she paused a moment to observe herself in the dimply lit room of a keep on the western front of Ahjfeld. Strange place to be, in some dead nobleman's keep (and one she had, in fact, known briefly in her years of her life before she froze herself in stone).
But this image of her... Was it appropriate to look like some fierce warrior when all she wanted was peace? She had lost so much to this war; and not only to those who died; but loves lost along the road, and a daughter she knew not where she had been taken into hiding. Sure,s he had heard news her daughter was about, and growing up as stubborn as she was, even without her being that much in her life.
It pained her to think this path made her abandon her own blood, her own child. Was this cowardice on her part? So many years she hated herself for this, and she wondered if her daughter did too. But even to remind herself half the time they were apart, she had nearly been killed or was imprisoned; or had some god awful fate befall her....
The motherly guilt to abandon her child in order to truly protect her was the hardest thing she ever had to do.
She removed her helm and set it upon a table and moved to remove the straps to her armor and let them fall into a pile upon a dusty carpet near the window. She was down to her simple under dress; something much plainer than the armor, or dresses she had dawned worlds back. And she paused a moment to look at herself in the mirror.
She had aged. A strange thing to consider. She had never noticed any wrinkles on her face before. Perhaps it was just as well, the faint crowsfeet were a reminder that time had infact passed and the wars past were unending; and that this time around- time would not stop.
