Request to Parlay

Vortigern busied himself this morning with vigorous duties setting aside the need for governance for one of toil, dressed in calf high boots, a kilt bout his waist that drooped down to knee level with a silver great belt about his waist with the silver badger sigil  at the front. He was shirtless with only his hands wrapped in thin brown leather straps. they were stained in both freshly wet crimson blood and blood dried from previous training moments. Bare chested with a lacking level of shame he was surrounded by his fellow clansmen and guards as they made space in a small sparring circle as Vortigern stood against one of his guards who was dressed similar in a kilt of darker colors and lacking the silver great belt.

His guard charged forth taking full and a hard swing as Vortigern caught it in his hand as the staff connected with his palm with a loud and sicking slap, there was no doubt it hurt Vortigern's hand but caught it he did as he gripped it tightly and with the base of his other arm's forearm, brought his arm down in a practiced and harm blow snapping the staff  as he kept grip of now his portion of staff. He spun on the pivot of his foot in a full spin strike his guard across the cheek bone with a sickening thus as the man, like a rag doll fell to the side unconscious. 

Tossing the staff aside Vortigern smiled as he rushed upon his downed guard, mounting atop of the man as he punched at his face, again, and again until blood spatter started to stain Vortigern's chest, then his neck, then his face punch after punch landed, sounding more squished than blunt with each passing strike until he decided to halt. Resting his hands on his thighs he breathed steadily  before slowly standing  and taking a few steps of the body. "Guards... take him to the healer.. I think he's hurt..." He chuckled but it soon grew into a laugh as his fellow clans men started to laugh along with him.

He son collected himself as the laughter of his clansmen calmed as well and he took the time to start unwrapping the leather from his hands as his cup bearer rushed up to present to him a ram's horn cup filled with ale. Vortigern tilted his head up to the boy who looked into the cup before taking a sip himself and held it out, but Vortigern merely waited for the minute it took for him to unwrap his hands before laying the bloodied strap over the boy's shoulder before taking the cup and looking his cup bearer over and sipping at the ale himself. Only then was when a sentry moved through the ranks of clansmen to present himself. "My Laird Cruach.. a messenger who calls himself Donal of Clan Cadag rides in bearing a banner of truce, requesting parlay and admission to see you personally."

Vortigern was seemingly uninterested until he heard the name Cadag and looked up slowly, covered in splatters of blood as he looked to his sentry, though by then his guards were dragging the other guard whose face he pummeled away. Vortigern tipped back the cup to empty the horn before storming towards the sentry and past him, through his own clansman who moved with purpose from their Laird's path. Vortigern stepped outside looking to one of the sentries that remained standing guard.

"Spear." Was the only word he muttered before a guard without a single hesitation carefully tossed his spear towards Vortigern who caught it. Vortigern gripped it easily and the mounted Cadag came into view still on a forced pace Vortigern quickly held the spear over head and falling into a quick spear throwing stance threw the spear with aimed and practiced precision as he stuck into the horses chest, just below the throat burying it's self at least a foot. Vortigern lowed his hands to rest them on his hip and merely waited for the inevitable to happen as his guards were quickly withdrawing their blades in anticipation of their Laird's command.

As plan the spear buried it self into the horse causing it to fall and bleed out internally before it perished, but the Cadag had fled the steed jumping off and to the ground escaping the possibility of being pinned alive. with his hands still rested upon his own hips Vortigern watched the man upon the ground and rose a brow as the man spoke. Vortigern smirked and took in a deep breath of air before sighing out and focusing his gaze back on the man. "I am unsure if I can consider you brave.. or stupid for calling on my courage Donal of Clan Cadag, when you lay in the dirt... unhorsed and at my mercy, Maker knows the mysteries of the soul." 

Vortigern crossed his arms pacing to the left for about ten step before turning to pace ten steps right, giving the man time to speak what he came to deliver, stopping in his tracks as the scroll was thrown to his feet. Vortigern stopped and looked down at the scroll, Vortigern looked back up and smiled chuckling softly. He gestured to the man and addressed his sentries. "I bring my men.. I occupy the High Laird's home and seat ... and he sends a parlay... how quick they forget the old ways.. no bearing of axe, no demand for one on one combat... or call for arms... It would appear licking Deveraux cunt and suckling from royal breast has made the High Laird softer than expected.." 

He shook his head, "Disappointing.. but you." He gestured to the man now addressing him. "Stay brave.. you'll not die this day... men see him to his feet, it seems his weapon and armor weigh him too heavily to stand, relieve him of it and bring him to my high table to be heard properly Oh .. and bring the scroll..." The sentries would rushed upon him knives in hand to strip away the leather straps that kept his belt and armor upon his, other with spears to subdue him if necessary. Vortigern turned around clasping his hands behind his back as he returned inside.

Once his sentries stripped the man of his armor and sword it would be seized as he was dragged inside to a small hall that Vortigern decided to use as his own for the time being.  Inside he dressed a bit more appropriately, a single black shirt tucked into his kilt, boiled leather armor over the top and a thick wool sash bearing his clan colors, with his twin long swords sheathed at his hips. He sat on the table rather than the chair behind it, swinging his feet back and forth went the sentries would bring the messenger inside to the center of the small hall, lacking armor and weapons as well as one sentry bringing the scroll to Vortigern.

Vortigern nodded his head to the messenger, "Give it to him.. let him read it to me." The sentry would obey walking over to Donal and throwing it at his feet, Vortigern however seemed comfortable sitting on the high table surrounded by his clansmen and men. "Go on Donal of Clan Cadag.. or is it Sir Donal.. you didn't take a flowery northern title did you?" Vortigern asked curiously in front of everyone present.


NPC Knight

Eirian stood on a hilltop in the distance, watching the city with a critical eye. She could not see into where Donal was confronted by the Cruachs that held her home city, nor could she glimpse the encounter in the makeshift hall, but she knew Vortigern Cruach well enough that he would not merely receive the knight or his message. Despite the sun's slow, steady rise into the sky, she made no effort to shield her eyes against its rays, continuing to watch for signs of the knight's return.

She knew there was an excellent chance that Donal would not return. That was an answer in and of itself, considering how the Cruach laird conducted himself. The man wrapped himself in the old ways as a justification for his cruelty, claiming that too many of the clans had grown soft through civilization. A quiet sigh left her lips, arms wrapping protectively around herself to continue waiting.

Merthen had not been pleased to send her along, she knew. Ruadhan shared her brother's opinion, and she suspected Aemrys did too, but it could not be helped. Eirian was in this up to her pale neck and refused to step back to allow the men to handle it. It had been she for whom the Cruachs had come, after all.

Lips pursed grimly, the small, pale Cadag woman stood her ground. The next move was Vortigern's.


--


@vortigerncruach , Ruadhan Connell , @aemryscadag

Every knight of Vulcanis had the honorary 'sir,' but it was no title and they all knew it. Though Donal did not rise to the obvious bait of the Cruach laird with a verbal response, he nevertheless rolled his eyes. The man was known for being prone to dramatics when he felt himself right, and it seemed that the reputation was well-earned, especially when performing like a well-trained seal at the encouragement of his sycophants.

The snickers and chuckles did not bother him, expecting no less. The Cruach clansmen appeared to hang slavishly on every word their laird said as if it had come straight from the Creator himself. Finishing the scroll, the Cadag knight merely re-rolled the parchment and stood quietly, waiting for the next act from Vortigern in this farce-like encounter.

Sure enough, the laird spoke, earning an arched brow from the man before he replied quietly, "As one who is so bound in tradition, Laird Cruach, you appear to have neglected a few points. If it's blood feud, then you've neglected to declare it in proper fashion, so that's why it's not being treated as such." He wanted to sigh, knowing that whatever he said was either going to be ignored, mocked or twisted to suit Vortigern, but Donal was honor-bound to give reply. "As for why Laird Cadag did not write you himself, it's not my place to answer but he has sent his heir to treat with you, so rest assured he's taken the matter seriously as you've violated your oath to him in seizing a city that's not your own."

And then the last question earned a wry twist of the knight's lips. "Because if you don't, you'll be known for a craven coward who waited until the High Laird was gone on summons to the Crown to take the city, an honorless dog, and an oathbreaker among the Clans henceforth." Donal didn't feel the need to point out the flagrantly obvious, that the man was held in considerable disregard by the mainland clans for his act and was not gaining any respect by playing out this game.

Vortigern was hardly a conquering hero, and they all knew it.

--

@vortigerncruach

Feeling rather exposed, Donal called upon his pride and dignity as a knight to bolster him. He stood straight and tall as he continued to regard Vortigern with a neutral gaze, giving the Cruach laird little to react to while the man spoke in a manner akin to posturing and preening. Much of that, he suspected, was a performance for the sake of his men and allies, spotting some darker faces amongst the Cruachs. So the Vaughns were here as well. No surprise; the other island clan had long been an ally and supporter of the Cruachs.

He had not anticipated this encounter enduring so long despite the knowledge that Vortigern Cruach was a man one could not begin to predict. Without a doubt, Vortigern enjoyed knowing that he could not easily be pinned down or second-guessed, likely using it to his advantage. One could not see whether the Cruach laird would react with quick, hot violence or the dramatic calm he currently displayed. It made him all the more dangerous, Donal knew, and the longer he was compelled to tarry, the more he knew that Lady Eirian and Laird Connell would grow concerned. Hopefully he would return alive.

A brow rose at the Laird's accusation that the blood feud existed between Cruach and Cadag at the High Laird's declaration, that Merthen openly accused Vortigern of murdering Merthen's father. That part was undeniable, as was Vortigern's assertion that Merthen gave the order to have his heir murdered in retaliation. Donal wanted to sigh but prudently said nothing to contradict the Laird. Instead, he nodded his thanks at the command to bring a chair, food and drink, though he suppressed his momentary alarm at further delay.

Donal was suddenly wary at the command for scribes and a need for five dozen scribes. That some form of propaganda was likely about to emerge, he had no question, but what was it going to be and what was he going to carry back to those waiting. "What do you write, Laird Cruach?"

--


@vortigerncruach

Cordelia watched in silence from a distance, part and yet distance from where Vortigern conducted his 'business' with the Cadag knight. Her face was unreadable, her eyes cool and narrowed at the drama as it unfolded. There were opinions far and wide among the Vaughns on how the Cruach laird was handling the situation, but she kept hers close to her vest.

Averting her face as the man's hand was shattered, she whipped her head back around to stare at the Cruach laird's retreating back as he informed the man he was to depart without horse or armor. So rank humiliation was how he thought to bring the mainland lairds to heel, was it? Controlling herself with effort, she merely looked at her sisters, then jerked her head to indicate she was leaving the hall unless they stopped her.

The scout-archer wanted some air and some space from the Cruachs after this. Bound by oath to Aneirin and Meical, she would not abandon her duty, but she had little patience for pointless cruelty. Vortigern Cruach was a man who preferred to rule by casual terror, and encouraged such in his clansmen. He was no one whom she trusted, concerned that soon enough, he would turn on her clan as well.

For not the first time, she sighed and wondered at the wisdom of her cousins in maintaining such close ties with him.


--


Morganne Vaughn, Seren Vaughn

The sound of the mallet hitting the table was unmistakable, though Morganne had chosen to look away just a moment prior and now blew out a sigh. The sound of the bones crushing, the man reacting to such intense pain, they weren't strange sounds to the woman warrior, but were not any that made her soul happy. It was moments as these where she questioned if she was made of the same stuff as her sisters, if she wasn't truly soft like some liked to rumour her as being. She set her jaw and straightened her spine, sharing a look of concern with her sisters before willing her expression into that of neutrality.

Cordelia was upset, but such was not unexpected in the face of the brutality displayed, and considering their loyalties on their Uncle's case were privately questioned. Her chocolate brown eyes hen looked to Seren, the stoic one of the three. Her stable, unmoved expression helped to settle and reassure Morganne, silently confirming that the world was still okay, that they were still okay. As Cordelia moved to leave, so too did Morganne, quietly raising from her seat with only a sweep of her hand to keep the flow of her short tribal dress to her body.

Their departure was not unusual, many of the clansmen came and went in the hall unless they were being addressed of course. "The Cadags won't be cowed by him," she commented quietly to her sisters, though she knew her words were not news to their ears. Without speaking they found the same conclusions oft times, and even when they didn't agree they could understand one another. Truly, theirs was a harmonious arrangement. Smiling and nodding her head towards a clansman who had moved out of their way to allow them to pass without needing to fall into a line, she looked next to Cordelia whom often set the pace for them.

__________________________________
Cordelia Vaughn, Seren Vaughn