RP:Oline, Giant Pride of Larket!
Summary: Oline runs into Queen Josleen, who gives her a second chance to train and become a Larketian Guard.
Larket Stables
Josleen :: Larket prides itself on its fine Larketian horses, and with few holidays between yule and the equinox, the annual Best in Trot competition breaks up the winter monotony by taking place at winter’s brutalest time. As is tradition, a monarch is in attendance to select The Gallant Hoof, a promising colt that is accepted into the Fort’s Knight Academy to train alongside a squire and one day serve the crown as a knight’s steed. The breeders win a gold prize, local notoriety, and bragging rights. This year is particularly contentious because The Brady’s, a 5th generation horse breeding family and defending Gallant Hoof champions, are rumored to lose to the Foles’s, newcomers to the vicious Larketian cottage industry of horse breeding and competing. King Macon, despite his great interest in horses, could not attend and sent his wife, Queen Josleen, in his place. Prince Guillem is with the Queen, looking about 6 years old when in truth he is only just over 5 months old. The poor Prince suffers the same rapid-aging curse as all children who were born last summer and early fall. The lower prizes are deliberated upon by bonafide horse judges, as well as the top prize, Best in Trot (a misnomer as trotting is only one of 12 highly specific and complicated categories). Prince Guillem wonders aloud if Shishi, Titan of Winter, rides horses. He concludes that because horses are cool and Shishi is cool, then he must. Finally the emcee announces Josleen who takes the stage and after a short speech about horses dramatically selects the Foles’s colt! The Brady’s, incensed and self-righteous in their conviction that the Gallant Hoof this year is fixed, kick over a water trough and storm out. After a short ceremony in which the confused colt is dressed in gold and purple blankets and a wreath of pine and real silver threads (???), the training ring is opened to attendees. Within the ring are buffet and drinks tables to loosen the tongues of horse enthusiasts. The Queen and son mingle with The Foles’s near the edge of the ring, within the watchful eye of Royal Larketian Guards.
Oline was experiencing her first real measure of trepidation since returning from her time enslaved in 'the pit'. Of all the things she'd dreaded, explaining her situation to the Queen of Larket... the woman who'd personally recommended her to the guard for training... and begging her forgiveness for her failure ranked quite high among them. The young giantess had had to ask around town for any indication of where she might be able to find the Queen, and not all of her leads had paid off. She'd been all over the city before finally arriving here at the stables, and now that she was here she realized just how utterly unprepared she was. Clad in little more than a patchwork of fur around her waist and a tattered old cloak, Oline looked almost as if she'd just stumbled out of the forest from one of the tribes. Her feet carried her forward, but where it had begun as a stride it was now a shuffle. At any moment she expected one of the Queen's royal guards to stop her... and rightly so. It was, of course, a dangerous time in Larket.
Josleen charmingly fake laughs at the umpteenth horse pun of the night. Unbridled enthusiasm. Get it. Get it? Haaaaah. A royal guard stomps towards Oline, riffraff, to cut off her path, and is about to shoo her away when Roald, a long time guard known for his loyalty to the King and Queen, recognizes her from her past encounter with Josleen. He also remembers that Josleen had taken a liking to this giantess and recommended her to the guard, which given the giant’s heft seemed to him a decent recommendation the time. But then the giant disappeared, an insult to the Queen’s generosity in his view. He looks cross as Oline approaches, yet beckons her to come closer to him. “What are you doing here?” He can’t remember her name, only her sin.
Oline bowed her head politely and raised her hands, revealing the strange unnatural manacles locked firmly upon her wrists. Their shattered chains jangle as she lowers them again, offering a weak smile. "Ah'm... here t'splain ta Her Majissy... wah Ah wu'un able t'do..." she trailed off, tapping her index finger to her chin in thought. "... th'traynin' theng, 'n ask... if she'd lemme trah aggen now tha' Ah'm nawt fyttin' fer mah lahff innin 'reena."
Josleen :: Hahahaha, saddled with responsibility! Hah! Josleen remains oblivious to Oline’s presence, her senses dulled by all these horse puns. Roald gestures for Oline to wait right where she stands. He walks over to the Queen, and once he has her attention, pulls her aside and whispers the news. Something about an arena. As they speak, Josleen looks up and over at Oline. Her expression gives nothing away about her mood (perhaps relief at being freed from the horse obsessives). She nods at Roald and leaves Guillem with him as she approaches the giantess herself. Guillem openly gawks at the giant. Last time he saw one he was a proper infant and has no memory of that encounter (he stared at giant boobs). “Oline, what a surprise! You look…” Josleen frowns and cants her head to the side as if to admit Oline looks like trouble has befallen her. When they first met, Oline was beating up those who criticized the crown, which these days has few allies beyond the city walls. Any ally is a precious resource, and so Josleen doesn’t start with accusations of desertion. “What’s that on your wrist?”
Oline glanced down at her shackles and bit her lip. "Ah... wuz inna rilla bad pless," she muttered softly, then shook her head. "Went lookin' fer mah folks. Diddn' fahnd 'em... but Ah fownd th'folks Ah thawt kill't em. They'z a lillbit tuffer 'n Ah wuz 'spectin'." That last comment came with a harsh laugh, but then she cut herself off and quickly forced her face into a more appropriate expression for dealing with nobility. "Ah... wu'un meanin' t'be gawn fer so long. Ah wuz... hopin'... mebbe... Ah kin git annuthuh chance addit?" She frowned, attempting to look appropriately solemn and remorseful. "Y'put yer trust in me 'n... Ah muck't iddup, Ah know... b'Ah'm back now 'n Ah en't plannin on gowin' nopless enny tahm soon."
Josleen‘s frown grows sympathetic as this adolescent giant mentions her parents are now dead. “I am so sorry to hear that. I wish you would have come to the fort for help in avenging them. We still can...” She grimaces at the story as the full weight of it hits her a second time. Again she points at the manacles, “What are those? Have you tried to be rid of them?”
Oline abruptly slammed her arm into a nearby fencepost. The strange metallic substance of the manacles rippled and faded, almost as if not entirely a part of this world, then returned to corporeality. For a moment, the spikes protruding from the manacles and piercing into her wrists down to the bone were visible. "Ah'm... kinna yoostuh them. They en't rilla do noffin ennymore 'cept mekkin' jingly noises 'n r'mahnd me 've bein' stuck't inntha hellhole."
Josleen flinches when Oline slams her arm into a fence post. Several guests in the horse party shout and gasp. They move away from the Queen and her queer guest, which earns Oline a stern look from Josleen for embarrassing her. “Come..” She leads Oline and her entourage further away from the stables. “I am sorry to hear about all of this. You’re a Larketian and we’ll to it that everything is set right. Our top mages help you remove the manacles, and I’ll write to the guard about giving you a second chance. The circumstances are certainly extraordinary… and tragic.” She pauses thoughtfully, thinking of her own parents. “Have you buried your mother and father?”
Oline's expression turns apologetic upon realizing she's caused a bit of a scene... that hadn't been her intention, not really. "Sorreh..." she mumbles quietly as they move off away from the stables. "S'bin... a wahll senss Ah bin 'rownd folks Ah wuzz'n spectin' Ah'd hafta kill. Ah'm... gittin' bettuh abowdt id... s'juss teckin' a liddul tahm." Her silver-flecked gaze settles upon the manacles, and for a moment she finds herself almost pre-emptively missing their presence. She only manages a slight nod and a grunt of agreement to the bit about her offered second chance, eyes flickering back over to Josleen only at the mention of her parents. "Th'whole village burn't... Ah... enneffin shoore iffin they's enuff left t'bury. Ah was... priddy yung whennit 'appent. Ah... juss wannid t'see it, rilly... t'remembuh it lahk iddiz... stedduh how Ah r'membuh'd it azza chillun." Oline let out a soft sigh and shook her head. "Ah knew when Ah went they wuz ded... Ah've... alwess known... Ah juss... wish Ah koodr'membuh tha' naht. Ennythin' abowdt 'em uvvuh thenn'm leafin' me widt a stray-unjuh."
Josleen does her best yet fails to suppress a grimace as Oline continues to build on this tale of woe. Entire village burnt down. Left as a child with a stranger. If Oline weren't so downtrodden, pathetic, and ill-educated (no judgment, but a fact as apparent as her size), Josleen might suspect the giant is pulling the wool over on her. But Oline's entire demeanor convinces Josleen of the giant's truth, and besides, even if there were a lie somewhere in there, who cares? An ally is hard to come by these days, as are giants in the guard's ranks. "It seems you've had a difficult time settling into a home. I'll see to it you find a home in the fort, and comraderie, a skill and adequate pay." Simply by the tone with which the Queen speaks, Roald understands she wants to go now. "Your Majesty," he interrupts, "You have a meeting in a half hour. We should head back to the fort." In truth there is no meeting, but little white lies grease the social machinery. Earnestly sympathetic to Oline still, Josleen says, "Come, Oline, walk with us to the fort and I'll let the guard command know of my decision." It'll come as a suprise as Josleen does not interfere with the guard's affairs as that is Macon's purview. Alas, a Queen must flex her muscle from time to time, too. However, this break in protocol means that from this day forward the other guards will see Oline as Queenie's pet, for better or worse.
Oline has some idea of what she's getting herself into... but she's used to the scorn of onlookers and peers and the prospect of being singled out as 'hand-chosen' by the Queen doesn't bother her. The giantess follows behind Her Majesty and her aide without further comment, save for a few appreciative grunts as it is explained to her what will follow. To the fort... then the guard command... and after that... and no doubt a copious amount of training... she'd be a defender of Larket. "Ah'm onnuh'd," she broke her silence to speak only once the Fort had come fully into sight. "Y'wun regreddit."{NPC|Roald}}