Post by Deleted on Jul 14, 2016 11:07:04 GMT -5
Llwyn Newyth. The great fortress. The home of Clan Cadag, the home of their High Laird, Merthen Cadag. It didn't look that formidable to her, Morganne Vaughn of Clan Vaughn. It looked to her as a normal castle, one undoubtedly to home a wealthy leader, but it didn't seem particularly majestic or larger than, say, Tor Uchyl. She could understand why her uncle, Vortigern Cruach, Laird of Clan Cruach, wanted to hold it, however. Not for what it looked, nor even particularly for its position - after all she felt loyal to the island they lived on, and believed it much more defensible - but rather because of what it signified.
Vortigern wanted to be High Laird. He wanted to make changes, he wanted to right some wrongs, and that meant unseating Clan Cadag that had flown too close to the sun. In this case, they had flown too close to the Deveraux Lords, the Kings of the North, the Royals of the land. The notion that those fair-haired strangers ruled over the clans was rather strange indeed, and for that she couldn't blame Vortigern the necessity to stop this false direction before it got too far. Was he going to be able to succeed, however? Had he gone too far? Was there another way?
So far, the options used had not come to war, and it seemed from what she could understand that the Lords of House Connell and Cadag alike were attempting to resolve things with diplomacy. At least, she hadn't heard of any movements of war, and her sister Cordelia was a most skilled hunter. Even if it wasn't her hunting party in charge, even if it wasn't her most familiar land, she was skilled at adapting to any terrain. So they stayed, they waited, they plotted. Something was sure to come up soon.
Morganne was sat in the great hall, presently void of most bodies that would occupy it during gatherings or meals. She had many thoughts floating through her mind, thoughts she had to wonder if they were attempts of the Gods to speak through her, but instead of worrying about it, she let the images fill her mind and rested contently, if not perhaps focused.
Vortigern wanted to be High Laird. He wanted to make changes, he wanted to right some wrongs, and that meant unseating Clan Cadag that had flown too close to the sun. In this case, they had flown too close to the Deveraux Lords, the Kings of the North, the Royals of the land. The notion that those fair-haired strangers ruled over the clans was rather strange indeed, and for that she couldn't blame Vortigern the necessity to stop this false direction before it got too far. Was he going to be able to succeed, however? Had he gone too far? Was there another way?
So far, the options used had not come to war, and it seemed from what she could understand that the Lords of House Connell and Cadag alike were attempting to resolve things with diplomacy. At least, she hadn't heard of any movements of war, and her sister Cordelia was a most skilled hunter. Even if it wasn't her hunting party in charge, even if it wasn't her most familiar land, she was skilled at adapting to any terrain. So they stayed, they waited, they plotted. Something was sure to come up soon.
Morganne was sat in the great hall, presently void of most bodies that would occupy it during gatherings or meals. She had many thoughts floating through her mind, thoughts she had to wonder if they were attempts of the Gods to speak through her, but instead of worrying about it, she let the images fill her mind and rested contently, if not perhaps focused.