Children of the Gods: The Princess and the Dragon (IC)

The midsummer festival in Aavenloche is a time of celebration and joy...or at least it pretends to be. Families without daughters rejoice and sing, dance and drink. Families with daughters spend most of their time in the preceding days and weeks making the perfect dress, all the while fearing the day when she will wear it.

At the height of the festival at midnight on midsummer itself, the daughters are brought up on a stage - unmarried girls ranging in age from 15 to 25 - and their names are placed in a cauldron. One name is then drawn from the cauldron, the name of the girl who will be crowned Princess of Aavenloche.

For the next week, she is treated like royalty. Pampered, showered with gifts, treated to dinner with Lord Vicomte and his family. And yet, no one wants to be Princess of Aavenloche. Because, at the end of the week, she is put in a boat, alone, in her finest dress, and floats toward the island at the center of the lake. Where waits the dragon.

This year finds Lord Lucius Mortimer de Vicomte attending the festival alone for the first time. His father, Lord Samuel de Vicomte, had passed away several months ago, leaving his title and lands to Mort. The Vicomte family had honored the traditions of Aavenloche for three generations, though Mort's father had secretly and privately found it distasteful. Now, it was Mort's duty to select the maiden who would be crowned Princess and sent off to the island to die. But, that is still two days away. For now, he is scheduled to open the ceremonies at noon this day, an hour from now. Sebastian, Mort's majordomo, is at Mort's side, gently coaching him on what to do during the ceremony.

The elven cleric and the human monk who had raised Leaf since the day it had emerged from the lightning blasted tree were anxious this day. The nearby village from which Leaf's human "father" had come, Aavenloche, was having their annual midsummer festival. The time when one of their maidens would be sent to the dragon. Leaf's elven "father" cautioned patience - the festival had endured for more than a century and it was not their place to interfere. But, Leaf could sense that something was different this year. The thoughts of its fathers were clouded with uncertainty and doubt. Omens in the sky, the patterns of waves on the lake, the habits of the forest creatures...all pointed toward a change, a shift in the energies of the world. Leaf knew it was not the only child of the gods...it had sensed others when it had ventured close to the human village. The convergence of these energies and deific children in one place was ominous indeed.

Darius, his mentor, and their band of hunters and trappers, had returned to Aavenloche just in time for the festival. The band traveled far afield during the spring months, trapping animals for meat and furs, hunting large game to fill the village's larders. Darius had never taken well to such pursuits but it was the only life his mentor knew. Game had been scarce this spring and Darius' mentor murmured constantly about omens.

Jhadzia found herself in the middle of chaotic jumble of fabric as the seamstress poked at her with pins, trying to perfect the fit of her dress. This was Jhadzia's first year as a potential Princess. She'd come to the village in winter, not knowing of the annual tradition, and now she was forced to take part. She was by far the tallest of the maidens this year, a fact that infuriated the seamstress. She muttered continually about orcish blood.

Mort

As Mort makes his way through the crowd, Sebastian following him closely, the wizard senses the resigned sadness behind the cheerful festivities. Knowing that the people look to him for a sense of safety and stability, Mort misses his father more than ever before.

The serene look on his face does not mirror his internal feelings, however, and everyone who greets Mort is given a nod or even the occasional smile; his posture is nothing but assuring and confident. Wearing a fine black robe and a silver amulet around his neck, the current Lord of Aavenloche is seldom seen without 'Ebon Serpent', his black staff in the shape of a large viper, and today Mort has the weapon by his side again. Contrary to rumour, the staff itself is not sentient nor capable of magic; it does, however, sends shivers up the occasional spine.

Mort knows how his father hated the whole charade. Of course the safety of the lands and its people are of the utmost importance, but sacrificing an innocent girl is a high price to pay. The idea of having dinner with a young woman who would be dead a fortnight later did not disturb Mort, who knew this ritual from years on end, and studied the necromantic arts to boot. No, the point was more practical; someday there might not be any girls left to offer the dragon. Not to mention the dwindling population due to not enough children being born and too many villagers leaving town to seek their fortunes somewhere else. A reasoning that might be considered as heartless, but a town and its Lord could not survive for long without a big enough workforce.

Nevertheless, the safety of Aavenloche had always been the main priority of the Vicomte family, and Mort intended nothing else. If only the people realized that together, they could make a stand against this most cruel practice! Mort would welcome it, but he also knew that although individuals could be brave, groups tended to be cowardly and conformist.

Finding his way to the main stage at last, Mort turns to his majordomo. "Did you bring my speech?"

"I must go..." These words echoed in its mind, as he was travelling towards Aavenloche. His fathers had been understanding, knowing that the pixie had a strong will, and more importantly, had a destiny to fulfill. As he traveled through the forest, he could see the signs of humanity becoming more frequent. "they don't know how to live with the land, they live on it...

Upon reaching the village, Leaf remained invisible and observed all the activity. I have never seen so many people, there are so many of them, each having its own purpose....
He roams around invisible, feeling deep sorrow anytime he sees a young, nervous looking woman, until his attention is caught by something unusual.

Jhadzia

Cursing at the seamstress as another pin sinks into her skin Jhadzia fidgets again and as she looks down at the ridiculous garment she was being fitted into.

"Do I HAVE to wear this?" she growls through her teeth and as she turns to the seamstress her dress rips across one of her shoulders. "Arrrggghhh!"

Why was she even allowing this? What would these people do if she just left?

"Has anyone refused to do this rubbish before? Surely someone has balked at it?" she glares at the woman as she approaches with more needle and thread. This town had seemed innocent enough at first when she came a year ago to begin her missionary work, which she expected to involve something more vigourous than getting fitted into a "pretty dress"!

"Well woman, your services are no longer required." she reaches up with her strong hands and rips the dress from her body. "I am no shrinking violet to be primped and preened. I am a warrior and will go as such!"

Barging past the woman she swiftly dresses herself in her arms and armour and heads out without a backwards glance.

The sheer amount of people and their so-called 'civilized' ways both confuse and anger Darius. He is a man of the Plains, and while they have festivals of their own in the rude mud and grass villages, none of his people would be so... outlandish or revel so strongly as these people are.

Even though he despises hunting and trapping, the pickings were slim and what little they had managed to gather was being brought to sell for 'coins' to 'purchase' the supplies they would need for the winter. The sheer amount of greed the merchants in their stalls showed nauseated Darius and more than once he wished to draw his greatsword and spill the guts of a particularily churlish and fat prig of a man who insulted Darius and his mentor and his anteceedents for their culture and heritage.

When the furs and meat were traded and the coins gathered and supplies purchased. Darius said in the language of the Plains to his mentor, "Must we come here every year? These people with their 'civilized' manners and ways look down their noses on us, they insult us at every turn and attempt to cheat us because in their eyes we are 'barbarians' who do not know the worth of what we sell."

Darius's eyes flash for a moment and narrow as prettily dressed women all avoid the group and look on them as if they are scofflaws or worse yet animals that do not belong in the street. Darius turns again to his mentor, "These people do not understand the first thing about us and yet they judge us... Why do you persist in bringing us here?"

Darius turns away in anger and says, "I am going to take a walk, I need to cool my head lest I cause us to be removed and exiled from this city before we have completed our business here." He says that last with pure distaste before he stalks off, pushing through the crowd, causing many of them to turn to give him a piece of their mind before they see his expression, blanche and move aside for him.

Sebastian nods to Mort, "Of course." He hands the folded bit of parchment over, though he holds on to it for a moment, "Although it does impress the people a bit more if you memorize the speech, milord." He lets go of the parchment then points toward the stage, "The maidens will join you on the stage a few moments after the speech is complete. There are only thirteen this year so greeting each of them shouldn't take too very long. Once that's done, there's the traditional Maidens' Parade through the town and then tonight's banquet. Tomorrow you are relatively free, but the day after is the Choosing, so don't indulge too much tomorrow."

Leaf's attention is indeed caught, by the young Lord of the village, a striking figure who stands out among the crowd, accompanied by a servant of some sort. Leaf, invisible, overhears their conversation.

The seamstress, an older woman with a severe demeanor, chases after Jhadzia, "Now you listen here! I don't care if you're the finest swordswoman in the realm, you have an obligation to tradition! This village's survival depends on you and the others playing your role. Besides, do you want to embarrass the new Lord on his first Choosing? Hmm?" The incident is seen and heard through the main square, causing a bit of a stir among the villagefolk already gathered.

Darius' mentor, an older warrior with many scars, but whose reflexes were beginning to dull with age, called after Darius, "You are too quick to take insult, too prideful, and too arrogant. These people are fearful, not of us, but of the dragon that rules this land. You demand respect, but show none in return."

Darius, in his anger, and Jhadzia in hers, find themselves face to face, their bitterness blinding them both to everyone else around them, yet each sensing a kinship with the other as their paths cross.

Jhadzia

Jhadzia wheels on the seamstress and moves forwards to loom over her, aware of the crowd gathering she grubmles menacingly to the older woman.

"I care not for your lords embarrassment!" then her shoulders slump in resignation. "But, I cannot allow the people here to come to harm for my 'discomfort'." She looks over her shoulder at the plainsman and a slow smile creeps onto her face. "What if I were no longer a 'maiden'?" she asks the woman archly.

She shakes her great mane of hair as she laughs at the seamstresses expression and the mans startled look at suddenly being dropped into the conversation. "Fear not, my friend," she pats the greatsword weilding human on the shoulder. "I would never take a man by force.....unless he wanted me to." she laughs again.

"Alright, you old witch!" she returns to the seamstress. "You may have your way with me, I will be more compliant."

Darius has a comical expression cross his face when the woman essentially propositions him, and nearly decides to say to the Abyss and take her right here in the middle of the street. His expression clears when the swordswoman pats him on the shoulder and decides to be amused rather than upset and says, "I think I'd enjoy that, besides, might give some of these... people a bit of a show... seeing as there is supposed to be an incredible festival going on and there is to be 'entertainment'."

He then glances at the seamstress and arches an eyebrow at Jhadzia's comment to her and maybe it's just that Common isn't quite his first language, but he ends up taking it literally and says, "So are are you a lover of both men and women then? It is not uncommon, several of my people share their love with their own sex as well as the opposite." It is however, if he remembers what he was taught of the civilized lands, mostly taboo, or at least not shared so openly.

Mort

"I know that," Mort replies, a bit more harshly than he intended. Perhaps he was a bit more nervous than he had previously admitted to Sebastian. Opening the parchment and scanning over the text, he continues, "I merely wish to read it again, so I can check whether the details in my head are identical to those I have prepared."

Right at that moment, a funny feeling came over Mort; a tingling sensation, as if he was being watched. Looking around, the Lord of Aavenloche sees a few faces looking at him, but somehow he knew that the feeling did not originate in the gazes of the villagers. Seeing nothing else out of the ordinary, Mort shrugs and turns back to his majordomo.

"I appear to be too early. Will there be anything else I need to do before my speech? Perhaps I should have brought Profanity," the wizard says, mentioning his rat familiar he left at home.

JustinCase said:

Right at that moment, a funny feeling came over Mort; a tingling sensation, as if he was being watched. Looking around, the Lord of Aavenloche sees a few faces looking at him, but somehow he knew that the feeling did not originate in the gazes of the villagers. Seeing nothing else out of the ordinary, Mort shrugs and turns back to his majordomo.

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Leaf smiles when the man that caught his attention glances at his directionl. Nice try, but I won`t make it too easy for you... he thought to himself. Leaf follows the young lord, and when his servant is not within earshot, he addresses Mort: I apologize for being so blunt, but why do you allow this sacrifice to take place? Such a horrible loss of young life? Leaf remains invisible as he addresses the lord of Avenloche.