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The Scinterlands: Sibling Rivalry
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<blockquote data-quote="Roquesdoodle" data-source="post: 1705429" data-attributes="member: 14798"><p><strong>The Rabbit</strong></p><p> </p><p>No matter how he looked at it, Tibbit thought it was a waste of a good ship. </p><p> </p><p>Through the throngs of gathered mourners, Tibbit could see the <em>Lady Darleanna</em> moored onto the banks of the Draig Talamh, the slow and steady pull of the river gently cresting around her stern as the water flowed out into the salty blue of Nora's Bay. </p><p> </p><p>The Scinterland flagship was a narrow spike of wood and iron, its masts rising toward the perfect sky like spires of majestic threat. Sleek, elegant, deadly. Row upon row of lean mahogany planks soaked in the morning sun as its sails billowed like cotton clouds, fighting to break free the ship from its moorings. Even motionless, the war galley sliced the water as though it were racing the high seas. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tibbit scratched his nose and tried to ignore the stench of oil coming from the ship. Though he couldn't see it, he judged by the smell that the whole of <em>Darleanna's </em>deck was covered with it. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Five Scinter Knights, all clad in the finest ceremonial armor Tibbit had ever seen, stood at the bow of the ship, flanking the tiny funeral pyre that sat just behind the captain's wheel. The body of young Prince Korskadain lay across the stacked wood, the boy's gold and ivory garb making him look like a cache of riches being offered up as a sacrifice to the gods of the sea. But even from this distance, Tibbit could see that the child looked almost peaceful, as if he had just grown tired of playing dress up and simply wanted to lie down among his protectors and take a nap. Still, it was eerie how the Prince appeared to be only sleeping, in that strange and unsettling way young corpses quite often do. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Queen Darleanna, the ship’s namesake, stood with her back straight, her dark, curly hair lifting from her shoulders in the breeze. She was surrounded by a phalanx of brutally armed men all impatiently waiting for any opportunity to prove their loyalty. She was dwarfed by the mass of their armored muscle, her thin shapely frame standing at their center like the wispy eye of an iron storm. She was young, not much more than a child herself, but her authority was palpable. Tibbit knew that with just the arch of an eyebrow she could have the head of any man she wanted. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Next to Queen Darleanna was the King’s Hand, Sir Feon Rey. The man was a statue of grizzled resolve. Not nearly as tall as the Queen’s armed guard, but just as fierce and twice as deadly. When King Scinterod began to unite the island states under a single flag of rule, he had sent Feon Rey to do the messy work of eradicating all the warmongering families. Entire houses disappeared. All descendants, relatives, even mere acquaintances vanished under Sir Feon Rey’s shadow. It was a task that earned him the nickname "House Eater," a moniker the Hand relished. </p><p> </p><p>Feon Rey leaned in toward the Queen and whispered. She gave a slight nod and then the Hand motioned toward the ship. The five Scinter Knights aboard the <em>Darleanna</em> gave a salute, the ring of their mailed fists pounding their breastplates breaking the heavy silence. Then one stepped forward and pulled a burning torch from a sconce and held the flame high. The Scinter Knight then tossed the torch at the foot of the pyre as he made his way back into position around the fallen Prince. With a sound like dragon fury, the deck of the <em>Lady Darleanna</em> became an inferno. </p><p> </p><p>Two axeman slashed the moorings and the billowing sails caught hold. With almost magical speed, the ship slipped away from the riverbank and moved toward the open water. Smoke as black as Darleanna’s dress rose from the angry flames. The Scinter Knights stood around the pyre in still and silent vigil as the searing heat turned their suits of armor into glowing ovens. The body of Prince Korskadain wavered in the heat for a moment, then disappeared in a torrent of fire and ash.</p><p> </p><p>Tibbit fought back tears. The loss was overwhelming. The <em>Lady Darleanna </em>was the Scinterland Fleet’s FLAGSHIP.<em> You just DON’T set fire to your country’s flagship simply ‘cause the li’l runt had an accident. Kids fall off castle walls all the time and ya don’t see their folks buggerin’ off to burn a bloody boat! </em></p><p> <em></em></p><p><em></em>Tibbit wondered if he had made a mistake leaving the Havens and coming to D’Auri for the funeral. The city of D’Auri certainly was a sight to se, but this...this was just too painful to watch. The ship could have been sold for the price of a small duchy or at the very least dismantled and cannibalized on the black market. But to just burn it? It didn’t make sense. Things were so much simpler in the Havens. When someone died, you dug a hole and threw ‘em in. Prince or pauper, didn’t matter. They’d all rot the same.</p><p> </p><p>The war galley, now completely engulfed, moved across the sea like a toy sun rolling along a window pane. Lazy clouds of smoke, thick with the smell of burning pitch and charred flesh, hung over the people gathered in the vast courtyard. It would take an hour for Tibbit to get the stench out of his fur.</p><p> </p><p>None of those gathered moved. Everyone watched the fireball that once was the pride of Scinterod’s fleet skim across the water, burning flotsam in its wake like some broken hell beast shedding its torn and wounded flesh. </p><p> </p><p>Then a thought came to him. "Strange, that," he said to himself.</p><p> </p><p>A man, smelling more like a horse than a human, turned and looked down at Tibbit. He gave a slight double take as he took in Tibbit’s fur, whiskers, and ears but the somberness of the moment helped him find his voice. "Strange? What’s strange, Harefellow?" the man asked.</p><p> </p><p>Tibbit looked out at <em>Lady Darleanna</em> as her burning shell finally began to sink into the sea. "Well, strange, is all, that just about everyone from the island states is here, mournin’ the loss of the li’l prince." </p><p> </p><p>The rabbit brought his gaze back to the man. "That is, everyone ‘cept the King."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Roquesdoodle, post: 1705429, member: 14798"] [b]The Rabbit[/b] No matter how he looked at it, Tibbit thought it was a waste of a good ship. Through the throngs of gathered mourners, Tibbit could see the [i]Lady Darleanna[/i] moored onto the banks of the Draig Talamh, the slow and steady pull of the river gently cresting around her stern as the water flowed out into the salty blue of Nora's Bay. The Scinterland flagship was a narrow spike of wood and iron, its masts rising toward the perfect sky like spires of majestic threat. Sleek, elegant, deadly. Row upon row of lean mahogany planks soaked in the morning sun as its sails billowed like cotton clouds, fighting to break free the ship from its moorings. Even motionless, the war galley sliced the water as though it were racing the high seas. Tibbit scratched his nose and tried to ignore the stench of oil coming from the ship. Though he couldn't see it, he judged by the smell that the whole of [i]Darleanna's [/i]deck was covered with it. Five Scinter Knights, all clad in the finest ceremonial armor Tibbit had ever seen, stood at the bow of the ship, flanking the tiny funeral pyre that sat just behind the captain's wheel. The body of young Prince Korskadain lay across the stacked wood, the boy's gold and ivory garb making him look like a cache of riches being offered up as a sacrifice to the gods of the sea. But even from this distance, Tibbit could see that the child looked almost peaceful, as if he had just grown tired of playing dress up and simply wanted to lie down among his protectors and take a nap. Still, it was eerie how the Prince appeared to be only sleeping, in that strange and unsettling way young corpses quite often do. Queen Darleanna, the ship’s namesake, stood with her back straight, her dark, curly hair lifting from her shoulders in the breeze. She was surrounded by a phalanx of brutally armed men all impatiently waiting for any opportunity to prove their loyalty. She was dwarfed by the mass of their armored muscle, her thin shapely frame standing at their center like the wispy eye of an iron storm. She was young, not much more than a child herself, but her authority was palpable. Tibbit knew that with just the arch of an eyebrow she could have the head of any man she wanted. Next to Queen Darleanna was the King’s Hand, Sir Feon Rey. The man was a statue of grizzled resolve. Not nearly as tall as the Queen’s armed guard, but just as fierce and twice as deadly. When King Scinterod began to unite the island states under a single flag of rule, he had sent Feon Rey to do the messy work of eradicating all the warmongering families. Entire houses disappeared. All descendants, relatives, even mere acquaintances vanished under Sir Feon Rey’s shadow. It was a task that earned him the nickname "House Eater," a moniker the Hand relished. Feon Rey leaned in toward the Queen and whispered. She gave a slight nod and then the Hand motioned toward the ship. The five Scinter Knights aboard the [i]Darleanna[/i] gave a salute, the ring of their mailed fists pounding their breastplates breaking the heavy silence. Then one stepped forward and pulled a burning torch from a sconce and held the flame high. The Scinter Knight then tossed the torch at the foot of the pyre as he made his way back into position around the fallen Prince. With a sound like dragon fury, the deck of the [i]Lady Darleanna[/i] became an inferno. Two axeman slashed the moorings and the billowing sails caught hold. With almost magical speed, the ship slipped away from the riverbank and moved toward the open water. Smoke as black as Darleanna’s dress rose from the angry flames. The Scinter Knights stood around the pyre in still and silent vigil as the searing heat turned their suits of armor into glowing ovens. The body of Prince Korskadain wavered in the heat for a moment, then disappeared in a torrent of fire and ash. Tibbit fought back tears. The loss was overwhelming. The [i]Lady Darleanna [/i]was the Scinterland Fleet’s FLAGSHIP.[i] You just DON’T set fire to your country’s flagship simply ‘cause the li’l runt had an accident. Kids fall off castle walls all the time and ya don’t see their folks buggerin’ off to burn a bloody boat! [/i]Tibbit wondered if he had made a mistake leaving the Havens and coming to D’Auri for the funeral. The city of D’Auri certainly was a sight to se, but this...this was just too painful to watch. The ship could have been sold for the price of a small duchy or at the very least dismantled and cannibalized on the black market. But to just burn it? It didn’t make sense. Things were so much simpler in the Havens. When someone died, you dug a hole and threw ‘em in. Prince or pauper, didn’t matter. They’d all rot the same. The war galley, now completely engulfed, moved across the sea like a toy sun rolling along a window pane. Lazy clouds of smoke, thick with the smell of burning pitch and charred flesh, hung over the people gathered in the vast courtyard. It would take an hour for Tibbit to get the stench out of his fur. None of those gathered moved. Everyone watched the fireball that once was the pride of Scinterod’s fleet skim across the water, burning flotsam in its wake like some broken hell beast shedding its torn and wounded flesh. Then a thought came to him. "Strange, that," he said to himself. A man, smelling more like a horse than a human, turned and looked down at Tibbit. He gave a slight double take as he took in Tibbit’s fur, whiskers, and ears but the somberness of the moment helped him find his voice. "Strange? What’s strange, Harefellow?" the man asked. Tibbit looked out at [i]Lady Darleanna[/i] as her burning shell finally began to sink into the sea. "Well, strange, is all, that just about everyone from the island states is here, mournin’ the loss of the li’l prince." The rabbit brought his gaze back to the man. "That is, everyone ‘cept the King." [/QUOTE]
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