A weary knight seeks peace.

[Cylia d’Listrale]

Off in the distance, a door creaked in the evening wind. I could hear it clearly over the pitter-patter of raindrops as they landed upon the tile roof of the small, seemingly-abandoned hut I had taken refuge in. I stood, breathing heavily, my back pressed against the stone wall of the hut, my sodden tunic clammy cold against my back, and the weight of my armour drilling exhaustion into the very bones of my body.

 

Glancing out of the window, I could see that it was almost dark, but even so, my keen eyes could see four silhouettes of men on horses. They were approaching the hut at a simple trot, safe in the knowledge that their prey lay within, weak with hunger and tired from riding countless leagues. As I watched them approach, a dim yellow glow appeared around them, as one of the riders lit a lamp. They wanted me to know they were coming.

 

Perhaps they intended to scare me, hoping that I would act rashly, or perhaps their own notions of honour required them to give me a fair warning of their coming. I do not know, but, either way that lantern gave me hope. Just as such a small lantern could produce so much light against the overwhelming dark, so could I, Cylia d’Listrale, a former knight of Verdannis overcome these men, my former brethren, and continue on my journey to find a true place of justice.

 

----------

 

As I have said, I am Cylia d’Listrale, formerly of the Order of Verdannis, and a Knight Protector of the people. I am a hunted woman.

 

Being the only female member of the Order of Verdannis, I was often looked down upon by my peers. I was often told that a woman should not bear arms, and, instead, should spend her time knitting, gossiping with friends, and gardening. These activities, however, were not for me. My father, the late Dre’nole d’Listrale raised me not as a lady of court, but as a woman-at-arms. Instead of the usual lessons in knitting, I was taught swordplay, and tactics. Of course, I still know much of what other woman taught, I can dance, sing, and cook. But the past-times that are usually credited to women are not my own.

 

At the age of sixteen, I was, much to the objection of my peers, admitted as a Trainee in the Order of Verdannis. At first it had seemed that I might be rejected, but my father, as one of the four Commanders of Verdannis pushed for my entry into the order, and thus the objections were quelled. I took to my training like a fish to water, and devoted all of my time to my studies and martial practices. It was three years later that I was promoted from Trainee, and became a full Knight of Verdannis, graduating at the top of my classes for Swordsmanship and Tactics.

 

The years passed, and I grew content as a Knight of the Order. While looked down upon by my peers in spite, and perhaps jealousy, I was able to ignore their views, and execute my duty as a professional should. If I was not chasing bandits in the mountain or guarding a noble, I was spending time in my room, reading books on strategy, or on the practice field, training. I rose fairly high in the order, and I am convinced, that had I been a man, I could have been higher still, but I never let this get me down. However, things were soon to change…

 

One evening, my father fell ill with an unknown malady. I rushed to fetch the Order’s physician, but he was out, calling upon other patients in the city. By the time I returned with him… my father was gone. We never discovered the cause of his death. I spent awhile secluded in grief; my father and I were very close. My mother had passed away giving birth to me, and he had raised me alone, so we had that special bond that only a child and parent who have been through everything together can have.

 

It took me a few months to fully recover from his death, though after the customary Week of Grieving I showed none of my emotions to others. Perhaps if I had been stronger, and controlled my sadness with an iron fist, I would have seen the troubles coming. Though, as it happens… I did not. That was my downfall.

 

I… hesitate to go into details, now, for the memory of my disgrace is too clear, too sharp, but needless to say, my reputation and career were destroyed, and I was sent in exile, and denied the right to return to my homeland, even to visit upon my upon my fathers grave.

 

----------

 

I take a deep breath as the memories flicker through my mind. My father. My duties as a Knight. My disgrace… they run amok, threatening to tear my being apart. I do not succumb to my sadness however, for the lamp has given me a hope that shall not be denied. Firm in my resolve, my hand fell to my sword, and my eyes shone with a light previously unseen that night. I could not fail here. I would escape these men… my former brothers in arms, even if they had to be killed.

 

Taking one last deep breath, I pulled my sword from its sheath, and stood forward, my exhaustion and weariness now forgotten, and my hope restored. All because of one lamp. One little flame that sparked me back to life.

 

“I knew you would come,” I said, casually stepping into the entrance of the small hut, “I admit that I hoped you would not… but I knew you could not resist following up on your small victory.” I put a slight emphasis on the word small, showing them how little I thought of their little trick.

 

“Ah, the little bitch crawls from her hiding place, I see,” one of the Knights sneered.

 

“I have no need to hide from the likes of you Jole,” I returned, a frown lining my forehead. “I simply do not wish to show you my back, least you attack me from behind.”

 

Jole looked annoyed at this remark. It questioned what little honour he had. “You have nothing to live for, Cylia. Your life is in ruins, the people who so adored you now despise you, and you are an outcast from our Knightly order.”

 

I gritted my teeth a little and took a small breath, trying to remain calm. Getting angry never helps in battle, and I couldn’t let him provoke me. “Yes, Jole, you saw to that. You must be happy that you pulled your little scheme off. I’m out of your way now.” I paused for a second, and looked him in the eyes, “Of course, you needed me out the way. You’d never have surpassed me, otherwise.”

 

To this, Jole’s eyes lit up in rage, “You dare to mock me!?!” he turns his gaze to the three Knights beside him, “Kill her! Kill her!” I’d never seen Jole so angry. Obviously I’d hit upon a raw nerve… a very raw nerve.

 

I tightened my grip around my sword, and settled back on my feet, “I do not know you three, Sir Knights, but I warn you, come a step closer, and I will not spare you.” I raised my sword into a fighting stance, holding it in both hands, with my arms back, and the tip pointed towards the three men. Saying nothing the three Knights simply approached me. I had hoped they would not… but this was their duty, and they would not sway from it. “Then I am sorry, for you shall die.” I said, making my sadness known.

 

As I finished my sentence, the first Knight came within range of my sword, and I faked a lunge. The unfortunate Knight fell prey to this tactic, and raised his sword to deflect the incoming blow. Merely being a light thrust that seemed heavy, I easily altered the path of my thrust, and instead aimed downwards, towards the joins in his armour, and thrusting my sword deep within his stomach. He let out a loud yell of pain that made his brother Knights falter in their approach. This gave me time to raise my booted foot and kick the Knight from my sword, thus pulling it free from his stomach, dripping in blood.

 

The wounded Knight fell over backwards, screaming in pain all the while. Stomach wounds were among the most painful – and fatal of injuries. He would not recover, and would die a rather painful death. It was not of course my intention to cause him so much pain, but I did what I had to do to survive.

 

“Which one of you is next?” I questioned the two Knights attacking, while Jole watched on, not making a move to help them.

 

Here, the Knights looked at each other, and together they attacked me, one from each side. They were not fast enough however; I managed to parry a blow from one of the Knights, and in return send a blinding riposte towards him, slicing his jugular open. He fell to the ground dying. The other Knight however was luckier. I managed to block his block using my arm, but that had caused me quite some pain. While the plate mail that I wore protected my arm from being cut, it did not however do anything about the impact of the blade. I would have quite a large bruise, later.

 

With a grunt of pain, and a little anger, I span on my heel, my blade stretched out. As it came into contact with the Knight’s neck, I let out a yell of anger. The sword didn’t quite separate the man’s head from his body, but it came close, and as a fountain of blood erupted from the large wound, he fell down; almost dragging me with him, for my blade was lodged in his neck. Only my rigorous training saved me from losing my sword as he fell.

 

Some of the blood had worked its way on my face and armour, but I had no time to worry about that. I turned to face Jole, only to discover that he had backed up, and was mounting his horse. “Are you running away, Jole?” I shouted, “Do you dare not face me?”

 

He was in too much of a hurry, however, to respond, and having mounted, he quickly kicked his horse into a gallop. Perhaps I should have chased him, but I was too weary and eager to leave this place, so I did not. This man had helped to disgrace me, and while I didn’t want him to get away with it… I knew he would be back, and I would have my chance later.

 

Sullen, I headed to the back of the hut, neglecting to wash my face or armour. I left the dead bodies of the Knights – my former brothers, laying there as a warning to those who would pursue me. They deserved a decent burial, but I had no time for that, now. I had to leave. So, checking the saddle of my horse, I quickly mounted him. “Well, boy… I’ll have to cut your rest short. We’ve gained some time, but we cannot waste it. But, I promise, you’ll have a decent rest soon.” I rubbed his head affectionately, and tugged on his reins, giving him the order to move out.

 

----------

 

That all took place two months ago, and now, after following various rumours, I find myself before a keep. The rumours spoke of a place where many people congregate. Bards, warriors, magicians, and many other people of honour. Perhaps this will be a place I can settle down in, and perhaps be with like minded people. Perhaps I would find time to hone my swordplay, or even advance my writing skills. Perhaps I will find… peace.

 

I walk towards the door labeled “Recruiters Office”, and knock lightly before opening it, “Hello? I understand that this society is accepting applications. I would like to join you.”

Edited October 20, 2003 by Cylia d’Listrale

[Peredhil]

Peredhil whispers, "wow..."

[Ayshela]

Ayshela appears in the doorway, bringing a tray containing several types of sandwiches, cookies, a pot of tea and two cups.

 

"Excuse me," she said, rather hesitantly. "You looked like you could use some food, some rest, and someone to watch your back."

 

Moving slowly and deliberately, she entered, set the tray on the table, and seated herself. "You've no reason to trust me, so if you like, i'll join you. I've no idea when Wyvern will next be free, and it can be a lonely wait." With a symathetic smile, Ayshela settled down to wait with Cylia.

 

OOC: welcome!! Stunningly well done!

Edited October 15, 2003 by Ayshela

[Cylia d’Listrale]

Glancing at the lady in the doorway, I smiled warmly. "Many thanks for your hospitality, kind lady. it shall not be forgotten. Though I assure you, I can protect my own back," I paused for a second at this, not wanting to seem arrogant, "Though I find that one can indeed, always use more friends."

 

I took a seat next to Ayeshela, though as I sat down, my stomach rumbled. It had been a long journey, and I was, indeed, hungry. I grinned a little sheepishly, "Maybe I will have a nibble of the delicacies upon you tray."

 

I reached a hand out and took a cake. Upon putting it in my mouth, I was greeted with a strong sensation of taste... chocolate. Oh, how I adored chocolate taste.

 

"This is very fine food. I thank you from the bottem of my heart," I bowed from where I sat, "Who is this... Wyvern you talk of? Is he the master, here?"

 

((OOC: Many thanks for the kind comments. I certainly hoped you enjoyed reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it.))

Edited October 16, 2003 by Cylia d’Listrale

[Melba]

At the mention of food, Melba, the Almost Secretary of the Pen, sits up like a breeching whale and snorts.

 

"Chocolate?" She drools, "Mind if I have a little nibble? I don't suppose it's some of that Angel of Apocolypse brand that Elder Orlan occasionally gives me?"

 

As the most recent question before the mention of food penetrates, she reluctantly gives an answer, for she is the Almost Secretary of the Pen.

 

"Elder Wyvern," she says, her mouth tight and white behind the scarlett lipstick scrawled in its general vicinity, "is the Elder of Initiates. As such he's SUPPOSED to be in here, reviewing applications and determining that there isn't any plagarism, judging originality, and the other duties that come with such a high office as Elder."

 

She snorts and her mu-mu rippling disturbingly but doesn't rupture with the added stress to the flesh it tightly restrains.

 

"What that Almost Dragonic newly-made Bard REALLY does is scheme for money, which they call geld here for some reason, and try to DRIVE ME NUTS!"

 

they start back as she spews tiny chocolate chunks in her rage. The sight of her face turning nearly as red as her hennaed hair is alarming, and it's a good thing Ayshela knows Melba is a sweetheart and darned good cook at heart, with a soft spot for nearly everything except Wyvern, and Cylia d’Listrale, formerly of the Order of Verdannis, and a Knight Protector is of proven bravery.

 

Both politely avert their eyes as Melba pulls out a tiny hanky and heaves to her feet, then waddles over to the ladies room.

 

The silence of the room feels like the eye of a storm suddenly; in her absence, they suddenly realize how much magery Melba carries in her person.

 

"More chocolate?" smiles Ayshela hesitantly, wondering how long it would be before Wyvern showed up THIS time...

[Salinye]

Wow...Cylia, welcome! That was very well written!! :0)

 

~Salinye

[Wyvern]

Wyvern quietly tip-toes into the Recruiter's Office just as Melba begins mentioning how Orlan occasionally feeds her AoA Brand Chocolate. Angrily cursing under his breath, the overgrown lizard notes to himself that he needs to have a discussion with the Elder of Bards about the "Do Not Feed the Melba" sign attached to his door. After all, how was Wyvern's long-term plan of starving Melba to death going to work out if she was occasionally given chocolate to eat?!

 

Wyvern's cover is abruptly blown as Ayshela offers more chocolate to those present in the Office. Unable to resist the temptation of scarfing the entire tray of goodies down, the reptilian Elder decides to forget about sneaking in and out of the room and dives for Ayshela's food. Melba notices the lizard coming from a mile away, however, and quickly holds out a gigantic FBI folder covering Wyvern's schemes, which blocks his course of trajectory with it's immensity.

 

Mumbling to himself as he recovers from the ground, Wyvern quickly proceeds to wipe the dust off of his tunic and greets all of those present in the Office (with the exception of Melba, to whom he simply flips the bird). Turning towards Cylia and vigorously shaking her hand, Wyvern grins and snatches her application story from his desktop. After carefully reading over the sheet and marking various interesting moments, the lizard hisses:

 

"Ah, a very good application story Cylia, and certainly acceptable material. Before I accept it, however, you may want to look into a few weapon products that I have in stock."

 

Cylia d’Listrale raises a brow curiously as Wyvern digs through some black bags resting next to his desk, and goes red as he pulls out an ironing board.

 

"I think that this piece will suite you nicely!"

 

Raising herself to her feet and gritting her teeth angrily, Cylia exclaims:

 

"Absolutely not! I'll have nothing to do with such a product, I am not a housewife! How dare you offer me an ironing board?!"

 

Wyvern frowns and glances at the board that he's holding.

 

"Actually, it's supposed to be an Almost Dragonic Brand Ninja Bo™... though I must say that you have a keen eye for finding the materials used in making Almost Dragonic weapon products."

 

Grumbling to himself, the overgrown lizard tosses the ironing board to the side and searches through his bags for another item, finally grinning and pulling out a knitting kit. Displaying it to Cylia, the lizard hisses:

 

"This Almost Dragonic Brand Hidden Ninja Dagger Kit™ is perfect for you!"

 

Wyvern gulps as he notices Cylia getting steadily more furious, and quickly decides to stamp her application ACCEPTED in the hopes of calming her down.

 

;-)

 

OOC: On a more serious note, an excellent character history and an ACCEPTED application Cylia. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I look forward to reading more of your stuff, and also hope to participate in some roleplaying with you. Once again, welcome!

[Beautiful Nightmare]

WELL DONE YEY!!!!!!!!! Welcome hun and a very nicely written piece i might add!