RP:Berserker of Bad News

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: Eirik visits Josleen in the dungeon and informs her of his encounter with Valrae, what he's learned about Vakmatharas' Jar and he curse it released, and tells her what happened in Cenril. Josleen tells Eirik more pertinent information about Valrae, and tells him to seek out the source behind Vakmatharas' Jar. Bet they're witches. Eirik's fealty and belief in Josleen moves her.

The Dungeon, Fort Freedom

Josleen has been in the dungeon for exactly a week, since the day her husband, the King of Larket, was found in his office, prone in Vakmatharas’s cool grasp. Thanks to the quick thinking of the Larket Academy of Magick’s Headmaster Percival, the King just barely clings to life today, though some rumors in the city assert that he is dead. In truth, Macon’s comatose body is heavily guarded by the most loyal Kingsguard and his care is personally overseen by Kingsguard Wendell, the fiercest defender and protector of the King. Meanwhile, the Queen of Larket stands accused of poisoning her husband and has been thrown in a dungeon cell while the Fort carries out an investigation. Though her closest handmaiden, Floria, has made great effort to spruce up the Queen’s cell, no amount of incense can mask the stench of filth and decay, and no rug can make a dank, cold cell feel cozy. The low, narrow walls close in around her, compress her suffering so it weighs on her all the heavier. She careens wildly from grief to rage to despair. Every day she bawls for her husband and begs the guards to let her see him, then bawls for her son, from whom she has been separated, and begs to see him too. The King’s Mother, Augusta, initially allowed Josleen to visit Prince Guillem under supervision, for one hour, for the boy’s sake for he cries daily for his mother and father. But, seeing that these short visits only made things harder for Prince Guillem, the Queen Mother Augusta decided it best to help the boy quit his own (murderous and evil) mother cold turkey. Prince Guillem, like both his parents, is infected with a supernatural rage, which has been hyperactivity as the boy suffers separation from his parents. Josleen can feel her son’s rage now, it pulses through the dungeon walls, rattles her core. Quickly she rises from her cot and rattles the cell’s bars, shouting down the corridor at the guards, “TAKE ME TO MY SON, YOU ANIMALS! He’s crying for me! He’s just a child! When my husband wakes up,he will have your head!!!” She pauses. No response. “Do you hear me?! I will have you HANGED for this! How dare you take a mother from her son!” The guards, accustomed to these threats, ignore the Queen. She screams at them unintelligible words and feral sounds, then grabs her chamber pot and throws it with all her strength against the bars. The sound of metal clanging on metal echoes down the halls.

Eirik is not his usual self. Not in the slightest - noted by the brisk pace his booted feet carry him. Was there no sanity left in this place? Queen Josleen, of all people, tossed into the dungeons?! The news is disturbing; No, it's downright moronic. Sever the kingdom of its' ruler in a time like this? Has the kingdom gone mad? Eirik comes to a halt near the officers and presents himself with a scowl to those who are watching over Lady Josleen. The Northman, as normal, is dressed for his inventive games of war. Donned in his usual hodgepodge mixture of armor, though something new hangs in place of his old furs. It’s a crimson cloak, dangling down his back, and then tied into a red sash around his waist. Brann Forbruker dangles from one hip, though its enchantment is broken, via the means of a leather baldric. An Ice-enchanted tomahawk hangs from the other. It's here, while checking his weapons in, that he can hear a sorrow-filled and anger ridden mother screaming from down the hallway and beyond the next door. The guards, being Larkets finest, know Eirik all too well; for his own bloody acts. They search him thoroughly, before opening the door to let him proceed. At first, the stench wafts to his over sensitive Lycan nostrils. Eirik does his best to stifle back his reaction, and swallows hard. In moments he is before the cell of Josleen, giving a proper bow to the Queen. She deserved every ounce of respect which could be spared. Finally, the berserker stands to look upon her. "Forgive my intrusion, Queen." Eirik gives her a moment to compose herself further before he would continue. Those silver eyes of his are calm, showing no sign of judgements on any level - even if she had just thrown her chamber pot. It's apparent that she had been cast aside in her own city.

Josleen's eyes widen at the sight of Eirik. She swallows hard and turns away from him a moment to smooth her hair, wipe the runny mascara away from her eyes, and adjust her simple wrap-around dress so it covers her chest more modestly. Turning back towards the beserker, she adopts her typical regal pose, but any attempt at composure is exposed for fraud in this unbecoming setting and calamitous time. She nods a hello to Eirik. "I am surprised, but happy to see you. I can see from your gaze that you don't believe my accusers, and I thank you for your faith in me. It will be remembered and rewarded when I am free and my husband is--" Here her voice cracks. When slinging threats, she is so sure that Macon will wake one day and be her executioner, but when promising mutual fealty, suddenly she is less certain that he will live, and her grief swells and spills forth all over again. Tears sting her eyes and she takes a sharp breath to keep them from spilling.

Eirik is still bothered by the fact that Josleen has been jailed. It is an outrage, but such topics deserve a better time; and this is not that time. He does his best to read Queen Josleen, and the body language she is attempting to stifle back. Silver eyes scoot to the floor for moments. On the topic of her husband, Eirik didn't even have a clue to what is happening. He had only heard one rumor, which came from Valrae - one in particular, which he finds disturbing. He gives a nod, indicating that she doesn't need to keep those things bottled in, but remain stoic enough to have a discussion. "I wish these were better times." Eirik points to the bars and to his own disheveled appearance, wondering what he might be able to do. "I'm also sorry for the fate that is befalling you and King Macon." Eirik further adds to help quell that stir of emotion in her visage. "But, I must divulge something I discovered out in the labor camps. It's small, but prompted me to bring news of it here." Hell, it could just be rumors, like all things he learned. "I came across a rather hot-blooded witch. Named Valrae." Eirik still wasn't sure if she had registered with Larket, but that was neither here or there. "She did not like me," for obvious reasons. The berserker isn't known for being friendly to witches. "But made a comment about King Macon. And I'll quote her as best I can." Eirik takes another moment to prepare himself for the topic at hand. These rumors are after all, new to him. Just like learning of Josleens imprisonment. "She said, I'm sure your ridiculous king has had ample time to ask Hanna of how guilty she is now." Certainly, the berserker is pointing to the conclusion of Josleens innocence. That perhaps someone, most likely a witch, performed the act that Josleen is now being held in the dungeons for. Though there is more, the Lycan would give the Queen ample time to think upon Valraes words. It's only one piece to the puzzle of things that Eirik is going to spill forth this day.

Recognition flashes in the Queen's eyes at the name 'Valrae' and a snarl curls her lip. The snarl deepens as Eirik recites Valrae's line. "That bitch," Josleen says, dropping decorum for what use is decorum in this gods-damned cell! "I wouldn't be surprised if she were behind this somehow. She's been very critical. And you should know that someone destroyed the witchcraft detection radar the week before the attack on my husband. I doubt this is a coincidence. Surely the assassins used witchcraft and destroyed the radar to evade detection and capture. Follow up on Valrae, and ask about the radar. Did you know--" Josleen hesitates. The clue she wants to give Eirik requires that she gossip about one of her closest friends. Her hesitation is brief, because she quickly concludes that she must gossip about Alvina for the sake of her family and the city. Eirik is, after all, a trusted investigator. "There's something you should know. Valrae was Hudson Landon's mistress. Months ago Hudson owned a beauty salon in the city that employed witches. Both Valrae and Hanna worked there. What more, Hudson's wife, Alvina designed the witchcraft radar. Could Valrae have focused on it in part to exact revenge on her former lover's wife? Maybe. And so close to the day of the assassination? Perhaps she is in on the plot, a cog in the plan--if not the mastermind behind it."

Eirik shifts the expression upon his visage to one of shock. No doubt his reaction to Josleen gossiping about Avlina, the connection between her and Valrae and a witch detection device. They had such a useful thing and it was destroyed before the attack? His jaw clenches hard, this does not bode well. Amidst everything that is going on, this sounds like chaos. Josleen is right to point out such things and he nods, while absorbing every detail. "It sounds like too much of a coincidence. You are very perceptive." Eirik adds his own thoughts to the queen's response. "I will look into this as well." The Northman continues to think upon this topic for a little longer. Even Hanna, worked at this same shop? There -had- to be more! "Hudson, Alvina and Valrae," he mutters these names to himself as if taking a mental picture to use later. For now, he is content to bring news of the outside world to the rightful queen of Larket. "As for the other reason you asked me to visit the camp. I also have some news." He's referring to the curse of Larkets children, of her poor prince who aged much too fast. "From the details I have gathered, a person by the name of Brennia, opened an antiqued Jar. This jar released the curse which now plagues your kingdom, though completely an accident. Artia has explained this part at length to me." He wasn't sure of her standing with the king or Queen, but Ava, her daughter had also been caught up in the curse. Now Eirik is personally vested in this mission. "I've told Artia that I will seek out Brennia and aid her in removing this diabolical twist of magic. But I've found nothing else of it so far." Eirik again falls silent to let Josleen absorb the news he has brought.

"Indeed, Hudson and Alvina currently live in Cenril." The Queen, having been imprisoned for long, has no idea of what has befallen Cenril. She blinks rapidly when she hears that Brennia believes she may have accidentally cursed Larket. "Brennia is an ally to Larket, so I believe and hope that her role in this was purely accidental. However, how does such an accident happen? Where did the jar come from? Who gave it to her, or made the jar? Perhaps someone intentionally created the curse and used Brennia as a pawn in their ploy. Find the source of the jar."

Eirik nearly shrugs his shoulders. All this grim news he brought forth came with only guesses for conclusions. "I'm not entirely sure I have the answers that you seek pertaining to the jar." Eirik gives a half frown. Far too much is influencing all of Lithrydel. It's a dark foreshadowing, a thundercloud building overhead which he can do nothing to stop; save for charge head long into the fray with his allies. "If you'd like, I can ask Artia, or Brennia when I meet her, to come here and discuss this with you. For now, it's the only lead I have." Eirik begins to pace for a moment, thinking upon the news of late and how best to break things to Josleen. Those frigid eyes attempt to make direct eye contact, but are laced with concern. "Cenril recently came under attack, by a man calling himself Kahran. Many of those aboard the ship SS turnt died, but eventually myself and many other warriors and mages fended off his attack. Both mayoral candidates died that night. Hundreds, if not more, of innocents as well." Even more grim news, though Eirik isn't done. "I fear, that this Kahran, will try to take advantage of Larkets chaos." He's referring to the witch problem, and the attacks those have brought. The state the royal line sits in. The guards acting on whatever form of law they deem worthy. Without someone to band them together, he has this sickening feeling deep in his gut. There is far more to come. "I have never seen a power like what this man Kahran wields. Orcs, giants, creatures of nightmarish legends, summoned through portals by the hundreds. Every attack thrown at Kahran seemed to have no effect." The northman, wished he had something good bring Josleen, but he didn't. "Is there any influence you wield that can help prepare the guards for something that might not even come?" He did truly fear the worst. Something big is coming, and it will take advantage of the calamity. "Who is running things while you are here?" Eirik had no clue where to go, and what to do. "I can try to stick around and bolster the defenses myself, but I'm sure some of my history here will make things difficult."

Josleen gapes at the news. Is it the end times? Is the whole world going to burn? "By Sven..." she says when he finishes the story of what happened to Cenril. Her heart sinks as she thinks of Hudson, Alvina, their girls, her old professors and Cenrili friends from her days the Cenrili Academy of Music and Arts. How will she find out if they're okay? When Eirik asks if there's anything she can do, she waves at the cell's bars bitterly. "I am kept in the dark and wield no power. However, I am sure the fort knows about what happened in Cenril and any insights you report will be welcomed. Seek out Roald, he's a loyal Kingsguard, and he was always sympathetic to you after what happened that day at the fair. He also believes me. He's one of the few guards who knows in his gut that I would never do what I stand accused of. He can open doors for you, he holds a lot of sway."

Eirik didn't like to be the bearer of bad news. He wished he had something better to discuss. A topic which could leave Josleen feeling a less stressed about the ordeals to come. "Thank you, Highness." Giving a formal bow to her before he stands up straight. "I look forward to the day where you and I may once again, meet on better terms." His tone of voice is soft, genuine, but laced with that northern accent. Interestingly enough, Eirik was once in her shoes, and though he normally does not empathize with anyone - he does so with Josleens circumstances. "I will seek out Roald and discuss what happened. See what we can do to prepare your great city, in case such a thing comes to pass." Eirik twists to walk away, and then realizes he has forgotten to state one final thing. "If an assualt comes.." He is nearly whispering to Josleen, "I will do everything I can to help protect you, Macon and your son." The Lycan reaches for a pendant which dangles from his neck. Its naught but a stone, bearing Rosfjorian runes. It actually holds no power, but in his minds eye, connects him with his personal ancestors. 'Grant me the strength to protect those in need here.' "May your time in this dungeon be swift Josleen. You don't deserve to be down here. They will all see that soon enough." A nod of the head is all thats given, unless she had something else to share, the Berserker takes his leave - collecting his weapons on the way out. It was time to find Roald.

Eirik's personal empathy strikes at Josleen's over exposed and raw heart. Tears well in her eyes and make her mute. She nods to Eirik appreciatively for his kind words. Others' belief in her is the only thing keeping her hope afloat. The whole world hasn't gone mad, not yet, because people like Eirik still see sense and love.