Blood & Scale in Fantastical Role Plays Posted March 14, 2016 · Report post Mere hours had passed, but it was long enough that Agron had sobered himself. It had taken time to gather the clan chiefs, and more time afterwards for them to confer on their own. Eventually the enormous doors to the great hall opened, and it was Bradan who met with Agron and Turiel, and escorted them once more through the enormous room. There was no wonder or merriment this time. They walked in silence, and before long they ascended the steps to the throne. Turiel leaped the height and length of them with little effort, and when Agron joined him at the top, the mighty dragon moved around him, and sat at the edge of the stairs, barring anyone the chance to leave the way they had came. The room was completely silent, the clan chiefs looking to one another, some a little nervous, and then their eyes finally fell to the King. Agron folded his arms across his chest, but he said nothing. All that he wanted to say was written on his face. His eyes were dark and furious, and they demanded an explanation. "Ah can make no apology t'make up fer this," King Eirnin spoke at last, adjusting his seating on the throne, "A terrible business, but wha' would ye ask o' me, Rider?" Agron took his time when answering. A ripple moved across his mouth as he chewed on his tongue, his eyes narrowed for a moment. "And what use is a request tae ye?" He replied, finally. "Barely a day gone and I find daggers thrust in oor backs. Vaedwyn, ma charge, near lost 'er life, an wi' it any hope o' stoppin' King Aemon. An ye haud yer hands up at me, aw aye, terrible business, awfy sorry pal, what kin a dae for ye. Ye owe me much, an' so soon tae. Keep this up an ye'll be bankrupt by the weeks end." The King sat stoic upon his throne, weathering the insults, when Agron paused, he sat forward and held his hands up, "Should a King be held responsible fer all his kin, so? If ye wish it, exact ye vengeance on me, would it make ye feel better, Rider. I've already lost two a'mine, s'don' think yeh alone in this evil. Ah don' know wha' made 'er, but Moira took tha' life o' a young ma, an' ah find it herd t'believe tha' Moira, who was'a pillar o' tha community, could do such a thin' but there we are. She did." "Tha's exactly what a King should be held responsible fer!" Agron snapped, his anger rising. "That is yer burden, an' may ye feel it's weight on yer shou'ders for aw o' yer reign, and then some years after. But killin' ye helps nae'body. Moira's dead, an they'll be nae tears sheddin' fae ma eyes fer her. A came here tae keep Vaedwyn safe, but a've brought her tae the viper's pit. Naw, we'll be takin' oor leave. But just ye mind what a said tae ye. I said Aemon wis gonnae come knockin', didn't I? Well take a guid look aroun' ye, cause he's awready here." "I see." The King nodded, considering Agron's words, "She were alone? Neither o' ye would take ah guard, so she had ah dragon so?" Eirnin paused, raising an eyebrow expectantly, "No?" He frowned, "So I see, then. Ah shoulda known ma blacksmith o'er hundred and FORTY FECKIN' YERS WAS AH..." The King panted, trying to control his rage, and took a deep breath, "... was ah spy fer Aemon, ah worse yet, he did somethin' with 'er." The King let out his breath and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, "Ah don't know yeh pain, Agron. Here, i'll do as ah can. But if yeh want, so go? Ah won' stop ye." "Ah...there it is." Agron said. "Fear. Guid, at least ye've sense enough fer tha'. Well, a hope it keeps ye wary enough tae survive what's tae come. If ye'd caught me on a better day, a might've helped, but Vaedwyn is far too important. That's what ye failed tae grasp, Eirnin. She's the on'y chance we have." Agron shook his head. He turned and walked back towards the steps, and as he reached Turiel he stopped, waiting for the dragon to step aside. When he did not, Agron put his hands on his hips. Just what are ye daein'? We're leavin', now.The blame is shared. Turiel replied, and he did not so much as budge. You were reckless. If Vaedwyn had died, it would have been your fault just as much as it was any of these people.Turiel, get out of ma way, now. Agron projected sternly. Turiel's head lurched forward like the crack of a whip. A thunderous roar filled the hall, shaking the foundations and echoing for almost a full minute after. Agron stepped back, scowling at the great beast. He let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his nose, before turning back around to face the king. "I think..." Agron turned his head and gave a cursory glance at Turiel, scowling at him once more, before turning back. "I think he wants a word. Will ye hear 'im?" "If'n 'e has a touch more respec' fer moi King tha' yoo, tha'--" Bradan pointed accusingly at Agron. "Enough, Bradan. The man's u'set, leave 'im be. Speak yeh mind, Dragon." The King leant back on his throne and waited patiently for the Dragon's words to come rolling out of Agron's lips. Agron nodded, and there was a pause. Agron seemed to be communicating silently with Turiel for a moment, and then he took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, concentrating. His eyes remained closed, but Turiel brought his head closer, so that it sat in the space above Agron's, his eyes ever watchful. "Greetings to you, Iron Blood. I am Turiel." The words came from Agron, and it was still very much his voice, but he had lost his thick accent, replaced by one more commanding and regal. "Son of Ethanriel, The Great Northern Squall, Dragon of the Sororheim Makirog. Make no mistake, to speak directly with me is a privilege awarded to few, and it is one I extend to you, and yours." Turiel turned his head to gaze at each of the clan chiefs, and finally to Bradan, before turning back to the King. "Agron speaks with anger, but do not fault him, for his kind are young, and are slaves to their emotions. All who stand here have sworn to protect Vaedwyn, oaths spoken freely, or implied through service. All of us have failed to uphold that oath, myself and Agron included. I propose that we do not waste time further lingering on who is to blame, and accept our parts in this, each of us. A disease infects your proud city. Let us cleanse it, together." "This is no fer me t'answer, Copper King, yeh've got m'sword whether the Lords agree t'help or not, but ye would suffer greatly wi'out it." King Eirnin turned to face the Clan Lords, "An' yoo?!" He asked in a loud voice, "Have yoo no shame? No a word a'tween yeh, that ye stan' silent... but as it is..." The King shook his head and sighed, "Clan Lords, yeh've the right t'refuse, bu' ah urge yeh... help 'em." "The Clan Lords will vote." One of the Dwarves spoke up, "D'we lend our resources, time an' more or leave th' rude, ungrateful grasslanders t'the'selves? Speak." "Clan Mordha denies support a'them what spits fire at our backs." "Feck th' lot o' ye, Clan Craith denies ye." "Our Clan Padraag supports ye, Rider. Ye have quartz fer'blood." "Faolain wi' ha' none o' this shite." "Clan Aodenn lends ye what we can, so." "The great Clan Dufaigh says yeh've wax in ye box if ye refuse t'help. Ye have ours." "Baoill ne'er refused a Rider afore, an' we won't stop now." "Ya are all feckin' mad, ya are. Duinn will have no part in it." "Bhaine offer ye our help, Rider, an' may they fear it." "The Clan Conmara are at'ye side, Rider." "But we'll not. Clan Dunvar stand apart." "Aye, nor we. The Clan Yuul will no help a Nordling an' his mad beastie." "Six against six. The Lords are tied o' their support?" The King raised his brow but before an answer could be given. "Are'ey feck!" Bradan stepped forwards proudly and banged his fist off his chest armour, "The mighty fine Clan O'Ruairc stands a'side tha' Riders, an' always well. Feck t'all the knob-slobbers what say otherwise ya great flippin' feckers!" He barked at the other Lords, "Aye, am lookin' at Yuul, ya moist pipe!" Bradan spat at the floor and laughed at those Lords who took offence, silently cursing the loud Dwarf. "Then the vote is no longer tied... the Lords will assist ye, Rider." The King let out a sigh, "An' yeh'll need it." "Feck luck! We've feckin' Dragons don'tcha know, Kingy?" Bradan grinned. Turiel let out an approving growl and nodded his head. He spoke once more through Agron. "An agreement has been made, and a wise one it is. No good will come of the Mad King's influence, and so I give fair and much needed warning. Those who serve the Mad King will do so only briefly, for we will reveal their trickery, and I will ensure they are given just reward." And with that Turiel retreated from Agron's mind, and the fiery-haired Nord opened his eyes, letting out a relieved sigh. "Hmm...well...looks like a ken who the boss is noo, eh?" He said, turning the Turiel and frowning. Thank ye, ol' friend He added, projecting to Turiel. The dragon only gave a small nod in response. Agron turned to Bradan and folded his arms across his chest. "Right then, pal. If there's trust tae be given, it's tae yersel'. Ye've shown Vaedwyn kindness as if she were yer own. Let's go see how she is, and then we can talk. If we're gonnae dae this I'm gonnae need to hear a lot from ye on how tae proceed."