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Browsing Posts in Player Characters

Time stood frozen for the humans who had ventured into the realm of the Fae.

The angry one said we do not matter! Kill him…kill him!

Harsh whispers filled the dimly lit cavern, and writhing forms circled around Bradan and the rest of the warriors who stood still as statues. However, introductions had been made, bargains had been set, debts had been spoken and deals had been met. The humans would be returned to their time and place and in good health. But before the druid and the rest could take their wounded and depart…


“I know, my daughter.”

Lord Herne, the lord of the goblins, and his daughter Eolande stood before Meadhbh, both focused on the swollen roundness of her torso. Her belly was split open, a gruesome gift from the blade of King Diwarnach, and she was pale from the loss of blood.

Eolande turned to her father. “The druid did not introduce them. They will die?”

The whispers began again. Pity. The mother will live. The children will die. Pity…pity…

Lord Herne raised a hand for silence. “These two children…they are fae-touched. The spirit of the wolf runs through their veins. I am inclined to intervene.”

Eolande frowned, “It’s not fair. She has special wolf-children, and I do not.”

Her father gave her an amused look as Eolande’s frown turned into a pout.

“I want one.”

Lord Herne touched his forefinger to the bottom of Eolande’s chin and lifted it slightly. “I never could refuse you when you pout thus, my daughter. Which one shall it be?”

Eolande narrowed her eyes at the prone red-haired woman. “The boy.”

LongWayToGoSword“You want my help? Alright, here’s some advice. You’re too skinny. You should eat more. And you should stay away from my brother.”

Meadhbh sheathed the blade she had been sharpening, turning her gaze upon the thin, blonde girl in front of her. The girl had guts coming to her at least, and Meadhbh couldn’t say that she disliked Addiena verch Cadern, but Bradan was difficult to deal with, and she wasn’t sure the girl knew what she was getting herself into. Still, Bradan had sent Addiena with specific orders to learn how to fight from his sister, and Meadhbh knew she would have to relent and take the hopeful one under her wing.  Hopefully she could scare Addiena away before the girl got herself killed.

“Why should I stay away?”

“He’s an arse on a good day.”

“So is Owain, and I handle him fine.”

Meadhbh snorted, then stopped herself. She noted the determined set of Addiena’s jaw. The same determined look she often gave those who got in her way. There is no way she is going to back down. Meadhbh stepped swiftly within arm’s reach and gave Addiena a long, intimidating look. She felt somewhat satisfied as Addiena instinctively backed away, her resolve seeming to falter ever so slightly. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

But, after a moment, Addiena pulled herself together and she replied, “…Yes. Yes, I am.” Her eyes flickered away from Meadhbh’s intense, golden stare and over to a rack of practice swords. “Which one should I use?”

One second later, Addiena was hunched over on the floor, holding her gut. “Wh-what…” she wheezed between wracking coughs.

Meadhbh flexed her fingers and snorted. “You’re dead. When you’re in battle, you have no time to react and wonder to yourself, ‘Hmm, I wonder which weapon I should use today.’ It’s not like picking a dress for a feast. It has to be fast. It has to be instinct. And I’m not going to waste my time teaching you how to use one of those if you’re just going to be dead because you didn’t know how to get out of the way. Now get up!” Meadhbh leaned over and hauled the girl to her feet. “First, you learn how to move. When you can do that, then I will teach you to fight back. Now, when I punch from this direction, you step this way to get out of the way. Got it?”

Two seconds later, Addiena was on the ground again, reeling from a brutal kick to her right leg.

Meadhbh sighed.   “Well, you dodged the punch. That’s something at least.”  This is going to take a while.

Two hours later, Addiena was covered in new bruises from repeated failures to dodge the onslaught of punches and kicks. But Meadhbh noted with approval that the girl was getting faster, even as she landed a jab that bloodied Addiena’s nose.  Meadhbh called an end to the practice, and began mopping her hand of Addiena’s blood. “Go clean yourself up and be back here tomorrow at the same time.” As Addiena tottered away gingerly, Meadhbh shook her head, thinking to herself, She won’t be back.

Meadhbh was surprised as the next day, Addiena was waiting for her in the training area. And the day after that. Never late, never complaining. What the girl lacked in ability, she made up with tenacity, and as the days went by, she became faster and more confident. Meadhbh grudgingly admitted to herself that perhaps she had misjudged Addiena. Maybe she would be able to handle Bradan after all.  Meadhbh chuckled as she realized the foolishness that had just crossed her mind.  Addiena still had a long way to go.


Meadhbh verch Cadell was annoyed.

To be fair, that seemed to be the normal emotional state with the fiery redhead as of late, however this day her annoyance had climbed to a new level. The near-constant awareness of the packs of wolves roaming the countryside had begun slowly scratching away at her sanity. She could not rid herself of their presence, even while she slept. And worse yet, the wolves seemed to not be as bothered as she was by the unnatural connection. Some of them would even loll their tongues out in canine laughter at her whenever she managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of them. Meadhbh was far from a solitary person, however everyone had their limits. And she had just about reached hers.

So when Baron Owain ap Edern had called for a feast to celebrate the devastating victory over the Irish and Meadhbh would be expected to be in attendance AND she was not allowed to join the hunting party that had gone out in search of game? She decided that while she might be miserable, she could at the very least make as many other lives nearby as miserable as she. She snapped at just about anyone who came near all day long, even going so far as chasing her brother Marcus out of her room with a sword and a string of curses when he stopped by just to say hello.

Once she felt sure she had frightened away most everyone in the household, she strode from her room, fully intending to leave the town at least for a little while for the relative solitude of the surrounding country. The afternoon sun was shining brightly, blessing the people with a rare taste of warmth, and she felt her mood improve with every ste—

“M’lady Goldeneyes!”

“Oh for all that’s…what is it now?” Her mood darkened once again as she turned around, only to find one dark-haired warrior staring her down from several yards away. He held a large cup in one hand, and he was grinning from ear to ear.

Meadhbh clucked her tongue at him. “Morgan ap Rhys, are you drunk already? The feast hasn’t even started.”

“No, I’m not drunk!” Morgan frowned indignantly, then stopped himself and looked down at the cup in his hand. “Ah, well maybe a little drunk.” He chuckled to himself. “I have an idea! Why don’t -you- come back with -me- and we can both get drunk together.”

Meadhbh arched an eyebrow. “Oh really? Well, there’s a problem with that because I have no intention of going anywhere with you!”

“Pfft, you tease me, M’lady. I see those sideways glances, the pining looks when you think I’m not watching!”

“Morgan, don’t be an arse. Go back to your camp—”

“No, no no,” Morgan cut her off, with a wave. “You see, there’s my problem. If I go back to my camp right now, then I want you to come with me. But if you won’t come with me, then I’ll be going alone. And that just isn’t something I’m willing to do.” He tossed the cup away, splashing his drink all over the ground nearby, and fumbled with the hilt of his sword as he began to draw it. “I didn’t want to do this the hard way.”

Meadhbh became painfully aware of the crowd of men who were gathering behind Morgan for the show. The men had all seen her fight. Stories about the Goldeneyed Lady who defeated the Commander of the Irish in combat had already been circulating before the army had returned to Bryn Euryn. The sea of faces now bore a mixture of pity, shock and even a bit of dark humor, all of which was directed at Morgan. She made one last attempt to stave off the inevitable, even as she drew her own sword. “Morgan. Go sleep off the drink. Don’t—”

Morgan closed the distance between them and lay a single finger on her lips. “Shhhhhh,” he whispered, as he swayed slightly. “I meant to woo you proper, M’lady. But I suppose this’ll have to do.”

Meadhbh laughed without mirth and shoved Morgan’s hand away from her face. “You’ll regret this in the morning, Morgan. I promise you that.”

With that, words were abandoned for the sound of swords meeting in combat. Meadhbh realized very quickly that this match would not last long as Morgan was far too drunk to measure his attacks. Every step he took was more of a stumble than the calculated footwork she knew he was capable of. When he thrust his sword straight at her, he overstepped the attack and she easily sidestepped him, and brought the flat of her blade around to smack him on the hindquarters. The men crowding around them howled a mixture of laughter and cheers, and when he paused to rub his now tender cheeks, she called out, “Do you give up now, you fool?”

Morgan laughed and charged at her. Their swords met once more, and despite herself Meadhbh found herself becoming lost in the patterns and rhythm of the swordplay. Sideswipe met with parry, thrust met with dod-

Two legs.

-ge. Morgan brought his sword down in an overhead sweep and Meadhbh parried the attack and kicked him away and into the mud. Morgan, still not willing to concede defeat, hauled himself out of the mud to continue the duel.


Morgan grinned wolfishly at Meadhbh. “I could be wrong, men, but, I think I’m starting to wear her down!” Raucous laughter echoed around them as Morgan approached her once more, sword held ready.


Meahbh’s vision focused down to a pinprick of light as the wolf sense cut through her like a blade. She saw only a brief flash of auburn hair, but the worst was the intense pain, followed by anguish. The sound of a wolf’s cry of pain echoed through her head.

Meadhbh blinked as her senses returned to the present, only to find the courtyard had fallen deathly quiet around her. She looked down at her hands, now empty, then glanced over several yards away where her sword lay in the mud. Before her stood Morgan, staring down at her over the point of his sword. The sea of faces around her registered shock, all of which was directed at her.

Morgan’s voice rumbled out drunkenly. “M’lady. I do think I’ve won.” Morgan ap Rhys, the man who defeated the Lady Goldeneyes in armed combat, then turned and walked a few paces away before emptying the contents of his stomach in a nearby shrub.


Meadhbh huddled over a makeshift fire, her back facing the wind that howled through the forest around her.  The small flame had already been extinguished by the wind and lack of dry wood more than once, and this one threatened to die as well with every frigid gust.  She shivered as the cold had begun settling in her bones, and she knew that she needed to find better shelter, or even better, the rest of her hunting party, or she would not make it home.  The winter had been especially hard on her clan, and a desperate need for food had forced their hunting parties farther and farther away from Bryn Euryn in an effort to hunt game.  Just that morning, they had all given chase to a scrawny looking deer, but in the unfamiliar territory, Meadhbh had lost her way.

A long, low howl sounded through the forest, and Meadhbh’s head snapped up, the lull of the cold temporarily forgotten.  Shortly thereafter, another howl followed, and then another.  Wolves.  She stood slowly and hefted her spear with her stiffened fingers.  Her fire gave one last pitiful flicker, and died at her feet.  Her breath puffed out from grayed, chapped lips in the twilight darkness.  Another howl, this one much closer, echoed across the small clearing.

In the fog of exhaustion, Meadhbh did not realize that she was running for several moments.  A thought drifted upwards, what am I doing?  I don’t even know where I’m going.  But she didn’t stop.

Her panicked flight through the forest was cut short by an errant root that caught her foot, sending her sprawled face down on the ground.  She briefly tested her ankle and found that miraculously, she had not injured herself in the fall.  She started to stand to hunt for her spear, then froze.  Not ten yards away, a pair of glowing, golden eyes shone out from the darkness.  The eyes blinked slowly, then were joined by two more pairs of similarly golden eyes.  The eyes loped closer until the shapes of large gray wolves formed around them.  The largest of the three shadows snarled.

I am dead, Meadhbh thought.  Better to go out in battle, but my spear…I am so tired.  Where are the other nine?  I only see three?

She could not see her lost weapon in the darkness.  Deep in the fog of her thoughts, she wondered how she knew that there were twelve wolves nearby, but instead of dwelling on it, her thoughts turned inward, and images of family came unbidden to her mind.  Father…Bradan….Marcus…

Pack.  ?.

Meadhbh blinked.  The largest wolf had ceased snarling and was regarding her quizzically.

Pack.  ?.

Am I going mad?  She thought, and nearly laughed out loud when the large wolf whuffed impatiently, and once again, her family came to mind.  “Pack,” she creaked out hoarsely.  “Den.”

Meadhbh held her breath as the beast sniffed the air and began circling her slowly.

Den.  !.

The wolf turned, his tail wagging ever so slightly.  He stopped as he nodded once towards a small footpath.

Den.  ..

Meadhbh stood and took several tottering steps down the path.  The wolves left her then; she didn’t even need to see them go.  She knew.  She could feel it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

A low howl was the only response.