Whispers;; Damara

[Gael]

-Gael of Caledonia-



They're the REASON for defiance,

We can't ignore

We're the PROMISEof a new day,


He had been gone for a while, back to his homelands and to the North, but now they had sent him back. It had been foolish to go back when there was still much to learn, but Gael had found himself tiring of the Southern lands in Albion. The place still as foreign as ever to him, and still on the brink of turmoil like an animal that just wouldn't bleed out. Camelot seemed to be the heart of the animal, but these were nothing but rumors that Gael heard, whispers in the trees. He would have to touch base with some of the other scouts some time, but for now, he was on his own, well, other than his little band of animals. A snort escaped his flea bitten grey mount, shaking its head as it moved along at a leisurely pace, hardly feeling any sort of rush, "Not feeling any adventure, Shergar?" Gael asked as he leaned for a little, patting his mount gently on the side of its neck.

The horse's ears twitched a little, but that was it. A good little war horse he was, and no doubt annoyed at being dragged into the south again just like his rider but perhaps for different reasons. Shergar could sense the magic, and the horse never seemed to be a fan of it. These magic users did nothing but put the horse on edge, just like cool weather and winter air. Gael did not no why, perhaps it was the sheer power or an animal's intuition. Though, the warrior himself never seemed to paid heed to any of the warnings that they gave him. Fear never seemed to be an option, and regardless of someone's status or power, they still had the one weakness like everyone else: morality. They had seen even the best of warriors fall to their deaths over a silly mistake: they thought they were invincible.

There was a stumbling sound from behind the horse and rider, their second companion coming up close and nudging into Shegar now. The grey horse's ears flicked a little, but it did not mind the crowding that was happening. Gael looked to the decaying horse, the Shadowmere, as it hung a little more closer than usual. His hand reached out, fingertips brushing against the oily fur, "What do you sense, Saoirse?" he muttered, blue eyes taking to the surrounding trees. If it was magic, it wasn't anything to threatening or powerful, or else Shergar would have become uneasy like their last run in with Maeve. No, something else was at work here, something that was masked by the trees and the shadows. Their final companion was no where in sight, a common thing for the wolf hound who usually ran off in search of things. Gael brought his fingers up to his lips and whistled sharply. Time seemed to pass when it had only been a few seconds before there were faint barks that grew closer before soon came the dog, and it had escaped with something in it's mouth: cloth. "So, we are not alone in the woods," he murmured.

[/font]

This is a WAR

The BLOOD will spill,

The VOICES will be heard.
[/center]


NOTES: | I always seem to have the roughest intros ever, but they get better I swear.|
MUSIC: |Wake Up The Voiceless - Story of the Year|
TAGS: |Damara|

[Damara]

--

Everything had happened so quickly that among the chaos, Damara had been separated from the group. Protect her! She had heard one of them call out. Her father was not among them this time, but it made the men more diligent to ensure she was well protected. Sadly, they had failed. They had been attacked, surrounded from other men. Whether they were a particular enemy or just random bandits, Mara did not know. Amidst the chaos, she had been grabbed and dragged all too quickly away from the safe company of the men. Even in battle, she felt safer near her people than away. But the man who was dragging her by the hair released his hold, due to the spear that pierced the space between his eyes. Run Tarien! We will find you. She believed these words whole heartedly, and as another man drew closer, she turned and complied. Running with all the speed she had within her. Perhaps it was stupid advice given to her by one of the warriors; a newer warrior. Perhaps her father would punish him later.

But right now, she was only thinking of how far she could get from the battle. She was no warrior herself. She was a healer of her people. She still felt life in them, an unexplained connection that she heavily relied on. They would win the battle, she knew it. But the further she ran, the deeper into the woods she went. Thank goodness she had been dressed for travel, in attire that allowed her to move freely rather than a gown or something that would hinder her speed. She stopped when she felt she could run no more, and when the faint cries of battle and steel were far from her earshot. It was then she stopped, catching her breath, realizing a piece of the cloth she had wrapped around her waist, over her pants, ripped along the way. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breathes, regathering herself so that she could maintain some semblance of composure. They would find her. They were hunters, trackers... men who would be able to find where she was. But when? How long? She looked around her, having no idea where she was and doubting she could retrace her steps to the clearing where they had been ambushed.

Though perhaps she would not have to, for she heard someone approaching. It must be one of her people! Or... it could be the enemy. She could not risk it should it be the latter. And if it was the former, they would undoubtedly find her, no matter how far she strayed. So she began to run again. Though she was already out of breath, she continued. Her head was turned to look behind her when she probably should have been facing forward, for before she knew it, she collided into something. It was strong enough to make her fall to the ground as she grew momentarily frazzled and disoriented. She was unharmed, though perhaps her pride was a bit wounded. She quickly rose to her feet and raised her head to look at the animal she had collided into... and the man who controlled it, not yet fully aware of who he was. He was no Manevrian, that was for sure, and at the moment in this brief glance of him, that was all she yet knew.

[Gael]

-Gael of Caledonia-



They're the REASON for defiance,

We can't ignore

We're the PROMISEof a new day,


If the Gods had heard him, something came stumbling out the woods. It had been fast and abrupt enough to catch the little group completely off guard as it slammed into Shergar. A squeal escaped the grey horse now, and it pulled itself up into a quick half rear, tossing it's head. Gael managed to not get uprooted from his horse, and nudged his right leg into his mount's side, forcing the horse to move over without needing to yank on the reins. Shergar successfully managed it's side step and managing to miss hitting the human as he came down to all fours again with a soft thud. The shadowmere had been lucky enough to not get caught with an accidental blow, backing up quickly away from the group and the danger that it saw fit, causing dirt and grass to fly in up heaved clumps before darting in the safety of the shadows.

Only man and dog seemed to have their wits about them unlike their equine friends. After the fuss was over now, and things had calmed down, for not at least, Gael glanced down at the person. She had silver hair, long and fair, but that wasn't what he took notice of. It was her clothes. He recognized them, or well, he had seen variations of it. He'd killed warriors who had worn the same type of cloth. Gael's features were quick to turn into a scowl, "You're a far ways from home, Manevrian." And no doubt her tribe as well. She must have had good reason to be away though, little did something ever separate them. A snort escaped the grey horse as it took another side step, almost to start a circling manner but Gael halted him. Warriors played no games with women.

Grey eyes glanced to the shadows once again, he could see his Saoirse's red eyes faint in the shadows, and just the outline of her dead form. An attack must be happening, it was the only logical sense as he glanced back at this girl now. They were enemies, technically, or perhaps they shared an even more common one: Albion. But it is hard to look past history and affairs of the tribes. His people never forget, nor do they ever really forgive. But that was how all the tribes of the North were, the Picts had no exceptions either. The wolfhound, which had been quiet since now, finally dropped the cloth and nosed it a little towards the women, but that was all it did before it slunk back, "What were you running from? Where the rest of your tribe?" After all, as good as a warrior as he is, a full tribe is quite the opponent for one man.

[/font]

This is a WAR

The BLOOD will spill,

The VOICES will be heard.
[/center]


NOTES: | None|
MUSIC: |Wake Up The Voiceless - Story of the Year|
TAGS: |Damara|

[Damara]

--

Damara almost screamed at the reaction of the horse, knowing it was to be expected yet was entirely unprepared for it. When she opened her mouth, no sound came out. She just backed up and the man mounted on the horse seemed to have proper control over the beast. Yet her ease hardly lasted. For his next words caused a shiver to run down her spine. He knew who she was. Not many were too familiar upon immediate glance as to her origin. She looked at him, taking notice of the marking on his upper arm, his accent, his attire... and she realized it then. She had fled from one enemy, only to collide into another. A new kind of fear filled her. The men before were amateurs. This man was a warrior. He held the appearance and strength of one. And they were no friend of her people. Now, she was alone with one. And for a woman, there was a worse fate than death. She tried to swallow her fear yet it was rising in her.

She had to force herself to remain rooted in position, though instinct was nearly causing her to take a step back. But that would show fear. She felt it. Oh did she feel afraid. Yet feeling it and making it known through actions and words were two entirely different matters. She knew her chances of out running a horse were slim. Yet, what other option was there? What would the enemy of her people do with her now that there was no one near them? Her faith lay in her protectors. That they would come, and she prayed it be soon. I owe you no explanation Caledonian. Her voice betrayed what her heart felt, for her words were strong and held that authority and stubbornness that her father always said would one day get her into trouble. The latter anyway. All you need know is that my army is near. They will surround you and kill you for the enemy that you are. A slight exaggeration in many regards.

She had no idea how near or far her army was. Even the term 'army' was perhaps used with inaccuracy. What mattered was that they outnumbered him. Unless... there were more of his kind as well. Perhaps Mara had not thought her words through, yet she still tried to pose a threat. When in such a disadvantageous position, she had to use the strength of her men to make an enemy think twice about striking her. But as she had previously recognized, he was far from an amateur. She had never come so close to a Caledonian, and for good reason. This was her first confrontation with one and she prayed it was her last. Not because of death, but because she never wished to encounter another ever again. And feel so helpless in their presence. She could not take her gaze off the man, nor did she reach for the cloth dropped by his pet. She may have an army, but it was clear who had the stronger position right now and it was him. He was armed, on a horse, and had a hound right near her. She steadied her breathing and all she could do was be strong. She would not beg for her life. She would not beg for mercy from their enemy.

[Gael]

-Gael of Caledonia-



They're the REASON for defiance,

We can't ignore

We're the PROMISEof a new day,


For being what she was, the girl was incredibly slow on the uptake on who he is, what he is. But slowly, it seemed that the recognition started to take place once the shock of running into his horse wore off. As she took a step back, Gael nudged his grey horse a step forward. A minor crowd, but he did not care because he knew that he wasn't going to hurt her. Unlike other men in the world, the Caledonian felt no heed to force his dominance on a women from another custom, nor did he need to seek out pleasure that way. For being a small woman though, and him on a horse, she certainly did seem to have a big mouth, "I owe you no explanation Caledonian," the woman said, and there was no doubt in him that it was the only bite she had.

The way she held herself, he found herself certain that she is the leader of whatever small tribe that she may have. The concept an odd one though to Gael himself, the idea of a woman ruler seemed so...far fetched. Cultures always clashed though, this situation was no different, "All you need to know is that my army is near. They will surround you and kill for the enemy you are." That made him laugh, even the animals seemed to understand it. Shergar's ears merely twitched, the dog's head cocked, and the shadowmere dared to take a step out of hiding, all because even animals could call a bluff if they could understand it, "I would hardly call your people an 'army'. You are no queen of any lands." An army was many things, but even she should know that her little tribe did not count.

Even back in his homeland, there were no armies. Bands, yes, but they were simply warriors, fighters with their own strategies but to move with the same movements, in some sort of organized way under the command a single leader, they were not. Albion had armies, Caledonia and Manevria, nothing but wild folk, "And if they were near, I would be dead already. Even if it is you who assaulted my horse." They had to have been under attack, why else send a woman away? She was important to them, enough to let her go running off blindly into the unknown and they were in a territory that they did not understand. But he knew now, that whatever laid beyond them was what his shadowmere heard, the sounds of fight and death. How strange that a horse that could not die fear so much violence, "So, forgive me if I do no not take your threats to heart."

[/font]

This is a WAR

The BLOOD will spill,

The VOICES will be heard.
[/center]


NOTES: | None|
MUSIC: |Wake Up The Voiceless - Story of the Year|
TAGS: |Damara|

[Damara]

--

Was he... laughing at her?! Oh. Damara did not like that at all. A scowl appeared on her face as she glared at the man. Perhaps not the wisest of reactions for agitating an already looming threat could only result in him proving to be more dangerous to her. He was right about one thing: she was no queen. She was a Tarien! But, she didn't bother correcting him on this for their cultures greatly differed. And she cared not to explain theirs to an enemy. She wanted to lash out and brag about how great the warriors of her clan were. How they could defeat his people in a flash! Manevrian pride. Or well, perhaps it was only Damara's pride. Either way she had only encountered this man but for a few moments and he was already angering her. But then, why else would their tribes be enemies? Clearly, they held an abundance of differences. Still, the fact that he was so unphased by her threat was unnerving. And making her realize how empty they were to him. Which only made her heart beat a little harder in her chest from the fear she felt in this moment.

Your arrogance will get you killed. It was not a warning. Just a statement for the way he spoke... she could not remain silent. Even if her mind was urging her to stop talking. Her wit did not permit her to. Define an army as you will. What matters is that you are massively outnumbered. And the longer you stand here threatening me, the more chance you have of losing your head. His mere presence was threatening, even if he had not said or done anything to support that. If they saw a Caledonian so close to her... they would attack without hesitation. Now the problem was that the longer they took to find her, the more time this man had with her. So far, he did not seem to be doing anything though. Still. Damara's mind was far from being at ease. While he was out numbered when it came to her men, she was out-powered here. What is it that you even want, Caledonian? she demanded, not expecting him to give a truthful answer. But authoritatively posed the question regardless.

[Gael]

-Gael of Caledonia-



They're the REASON for defiance,

We can't ignore

We're the PROMISEof a new day,


His laughter did not seem to be helping the matters as a scowl and a glare to her face, which honestly, only made him laugh a little more. It was hard to take someone seriously when they proved to be no threat. Without the rest of her tribe, she was nothing more than a girl barking orders with no one to carry them out. Plus, with the way she was dressed and how she was out here, it seemed that her only means of defense were to run from whatever danger came and let her warriors take the work. In other words, Gael thought her weak, "Your arrogance will get you killed," the girl stated bluntly now. Oh yes, because clearly his weakness is sharp spoken words.

Gael did nothing but shake his head, trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes at that very moment. Mostly because it would save him another mouthful of her words. Underneath him, Shergar shifted his weight from side to side. Clearly, he wasn't the only one growing bored with the conversation now, his animals were as well. They should probably just leave, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave and let the Manevrian believe that her words were the thing to scare him off, "What matters is that you are massively outnumbered. And the longer you stand here threatening me, the more chance you have of losing your head." That did it, Gael rolled his eyes now as he glanced back down at her, "Need I remind you that you have nothing to kill me with for they are currently preoccupied. You people call such attention to yourselves in these strange lands."

He probably shouldn't have talked back like that, because now he would surely never hear the end of it. Either way, it only made him glad that that she wasn't his queen or ruled over him, "And need I remind you that I haven't done anything threatening to you at all." Although, knowing girls like her, probably the mere action of standing right there with his animals constituted as a threat even though no weapons were drawn, "What is it that you even want, Caledonian?" He cast a steely look her way, annoyed that she was asking such a question. Although, she is very much an outsider as much as he was in Albion. It didn't hurt him either way, still, it was annoying that she thought his presence had to do with her, "Scouting Albion. Looking for answers as to who came into Caledonia and harmed some of the tribes."

[/font]

This is a WAR

The BLOOD will spill,

The VOICES will be heard.
[/center]


NOTES: | None|
MUSIC: |Wake Up The Voiceless - Story of the Year|
TAGS: |Damara|