RP:Respect My Authority!
Part of the Rise of Larket Arc
Summary: Having received Josleen's letter, Hildegarde immediately flies to Frostmaw to rescue her Thane. Macon and Josleen both claim that Josleen is no prisoner, that she is free to go, and will go, but Josleen's demeanor is strange. She's quick to shout and quick to defend Macon. The Hildegarde, Josleen seems in some way brainwashed. This isn't far from the truth, as Josleen is infected with Macon's rage. The King is angry that Hildegarde seems prepared to snatch Josleen away, rather than take Josleen who leaves of her own volition. Thing escalate quickly, thanks in no small part to Macon's rage effect, and a guard shoves Josleen, causing both Queen and King to spring into action. Hildegarde shifts to dragon form, snatches Josleen, busts through the fort wall, climbs the parapet, destroys a turret, and escapes with her precious. (This is why you shouldn't piss off dragons.) Meanwhile, the Larketian siege master opens fire at Hildegarde and Josleen, sending Macon in a blinding rage. He very nearly kills the siege master and commands the volleys stop immediately.
Larket Throne Room
Hildegarde had received word of the attack on her men and the loss of Stroud, a valiant and noble giant who had been taken from the world far too soon. She had even dealt with the greedy Kreekitaka that night, so really, she had been looking forward to getting a good night of rest! But such was not for Hildegarde. Instead, the resting dragon had been woken by Lisbeth carrying a letter that was apparently ‘of great importance’. The knight had wanted to debate that, but instead she merely opened the letter and began to read. The Larketian stationery was enough to irritate her, but it was the handwriting that truly sent her into a fury. Josleen. So Macon had captured her Thane! What had become of Kelovath? Oh, she knew she shouldn’t have trusted Josleen to that weakling’s care, of course he could never protect her as well as Hildegarde could or had before. “Wake the Knight-Commander,” the Silver urged as she rose from her bed, “Now!” the urgency was hard to miss. Donning her armour, her cloak, her swordbelt and all, the Queen of Frostmaw readied for war on her own. Departing from her chambers, she stormed through the fort and bellowed commands to all who crossed her path: “Ready the men! Alert the citizens! I leave for Larket immediately, if I do not return by the halfmark of the day you are to march to me. Queensguard, make your way to me. Wait outside the city walls but venture no further. Macon is mine,” she said, throwing open the fort doors. “He will rue this day!” she roared, departing from sight of the fort swiftly; her departure heralded by a brief blizzard of snow and a most Saurian roar to announce her approach. Soaring through the sky with ease, the Silver passed Xalious, Sage and Kelay with speed and attention. She need not hide her approach, her anger wouldn’t allow for it anyway. With Larket in sight, the dragon roared again – a roar that would be undoubtedly familiar to Josleen by now – and closed in on the apparently ‘Hard’ City. Trebuchets did not go unnoticed, of course. The dragon may be blinded by rage, but her instinct for survival surpassed her rage and prompted her to fly directly towards the key building of Larket’s Crown; to cling to its parapet and howl her rage and make her presence known. Clinging to the parapet would likely buy her some time. What soldiers would fire upon their own castle while their king was inside it? The dragon rumbled lowly, inching lower on the parapet so she could begin her descent covered by the building. She would eventually assume human form and make her way in, if she could.
Macon and the rest of Fort Freedom have been informed, by means of magical communication, that advanced scouts have spotted a silver dragon heading their way. The military personnel of the city are buzzing, and that buzz has caught the attention of the rest of the fort staff. Everyone is running around in preparation of the worst case scenario of a hostile Hildegarde, except the cooks, who are running around in preparation of a non-hostile Hildegarde. Macon is in the hexed Rage Armor and has the empty Rage Axe strapped to his back, the man sporting the classic look of the Fury Knight, which is complimented by the marble crown of Larket that sits heavy atop his head. Scurrying guards and servants bob and weave in and out of his path as he stalks the halls, those who don't manage to avoid him in their haste meet a strong shoulder and are knocked to the side, suffering a growl in the process. He meets Josleen in the Throne Room, but not before giving the order to the siege weapon master that they are not to fire first. If the dragon wants a fight, she will have it, but they won't instigate it. By now Josleen has been told which Throne is the King’s by some servant that didn't want to lose his head for her taking the seat of power from Macon. He takes his spot in Jacklin’s chair after resting his axe against the arm of it. Part of the fort shakes, heralding Hildegarde’s landing and once she is on the ground making her way inside she is flanked by soldiers on both sides. They present her a clear path, both ahead of her and back the way she came. Again, they are prepared for a fight, but have their orders not to begin one…
Josleen is in her room when she hears that familiar roar that sets her heart leaping. She runs to the north facing window and sees the silver glint in the sky. In the city, she can see citizens stop in their routines to look to the north and west. Some shout, some hide, all talk about it, fear it. Living under a cold war, everyone is ready for the bomb, the dragon, and know to seek shelter, and maybe find God. They watch the dragon land on their King’s fort, the siege weapons at ready but not launched. What’s happening? Josleen, already dressed for the day, runs to the Throne room, her full skirt hitched up to free her steps. She’s in the hall when the building shakes. In the throne room, she crosses to Macon and squeezes his hand to reassure him, and thank him too, for not firing the trebuchets. She says nothing, and cannot sit still. She leaves the thrones and Macon as quickly as she approached to stand at the window and look for the dragon. That anxious tic returns and she rubs her collar raw.
Hildegarde entered Fort Freedom with an entourage of Macon’s guards, though it is clear she is largely ignoring them from the way her gaze is forever set forward and onto the goal before her. Macon. And Josleen. Josleen is why Hildegarde has rushed here, so seeing her so regally dressed (like always to be fair) and her collar in such a reddened state she is left to draw her own horrible conclusions. Hildegarde reluctantly dragged her eye from Josleen to Macon, waiting for the guards to stop or for a motion to stop her approach so she knew exactly where to stand. Otherwise she’d just keep on walking until she was stopped by the guard. She was not here to play games after all. Her face looked like thunder.
Macon is awakened from a trance-like state when Josleen touches his hand. He blinks a few times, prying slate eyes away from the main entrance to the Throne room and shoots the Thane a smirk. A smirk! He is more confident than he was at the time the letter that brought the dragon here was written, despite the failure of diplomacy that was the last meeting between the silver and the king, though at that time he wasn't crowned just yet. Josleen leaves his side and Hildegarde enters. Macon stands while she approaches and raises a gauntleted hand to signal that is far enough. He ignores that look in the dragon’s eye and literally looks down his nose at her, “Your Highness. ‘Ow good of you t’come so quickly…” He appears to have no need to put out that furious aura he is infected with, the queen is already clearly mad.
Josleen crosses the room quickly to meet Hildegarde, her smile genuine. How could it not be? To have a friend, a dragon and queen no less, fly across a mountain range and forest to rescue you at the drop of a hat would make anyone burst with pride, gratitude, and flattery. It’s also a small piece of why Josleen is so loyal to Hildegarde, it’s a loyalty that runs both ways. She also smiles because she has hope for the first time since Macon captured her. No siege weapons have been fired, and Hildegarde’s sword isn’t swinging. A good start, despite the menace in both monarch’s demeanor. She squeezes Hildegarde’s hand quickly in hello, but to be any more affectionate than that while the queen stares down at a rival king would breach decorum. Josleen stands closer to Hildegarde and faces the tension between the monarchs, ready to intervene should things turn violent. She glances at Macon once, eyes his sneer disapprovingly, then looks away. She says nothing. The Queen is here and can speak for herself.
Hildegarde is not surprised that Josleen has squeezed her way through Macon’s guards to stand by her side and offer that affectionate squeeze. If anything, it tells her all she needs to know: Josleen is a captive here and is happy to see her rescuer! The knight can barely tear her gaze away from Macon, but she just about manages it. Instead, she turns her attention to Josleen, raising her hand as if she might cup Josleen’s cheek though she doesn’t quite touch her. She doesn’t know what her Thane has been subjected to. “Are you all right?” she murmurs quietly to her dearest friend. It is evident from that long stare at Josleen’s raw collar that Hildegarde is somehow connecting it to the dastardly Macon. Her expression is clear, it’s an unspoken ‘I’ll kill him’. She looks back at Macon and cannot hide the flaring of her nostrils. His sneering demeanour, the way he looks down his nose at her… oh, she thinks much of this gesture. Josleen could likely feel her tense. The Queen of Frostmaw – the City of War – is ready to issue a challenge at any given moment. “How long have you kept Josleen for?”
Macon ignores Josleen in the moment she disapproves of his attitude towards the queen. He's already spared the enemy monarch from his mighty fort defenses and so he deserves, at least, this tiny show of hostility to his ‘guest’. The exchange between the Thane and Queen is taken in, stone eyes scanning back and forth between the pair. Perhaps he gains a bit more understanding of why Josleen was so concerned over how the dragon would react to him holding her at Fort Freedom. His expression softens out of necessity while he waits for their reunion to end, his face would get stuck like that if he left it that way any longer, and he lowers his head slightly so that he is looking towards Hildegarde more directly and less condescendingly. He thinks on her question, tapping a finger to his chin in a theatrical showing of thoughtfulness before answering, “A little over a month?” his voice rises at the end as he shoots Josleen a glance as if asking her to confirm. “Time enough for the truth t’be revealed. She ‘as been free t’leave for some time...”
Josleen nods. Yes, she is alright. The bard hardly ever notices when she rubs her collar. It’s involuntary, and thus she doesn’t realize her chest is red and providing evidence against Macon. If she knew she would correct Hildegarde’s assumption, but alas, a city may fall because of one woman’s anxious habit. When Macon looks for her confirmation, she gives it, perhaps a little -too- on cue. “It’s as he says. I stayed, because I wanted to see Kelovath captured. He’s the real villain in all of this.” Her lips purse as she recalls her shame in trusting The False Paladin. She’s cried over Kelovath enough. All that’s left is rage, embarrassment, and a thirst for justice. It’s possible that The Rage Knight can feel her rancor. “King Macon has assured me he wants no quarrel with Frostmaw. As I wrote, he’s treated me well.”
Hildegarde would never believe that for a second, that Josleen would have been free to leave and not at least informed her of her location! To be held here by Macon, under the rule of Larket when Frostmaw has declared against it… surely, there was a real and logical reason as to why Josleen didn’t even tell her she was in Larket again? As Josleen pipes up, Hildegarde expects some kind of condemnation and a story of how she has been enduring living under these conditions and that she’s ever so brave. The typical kind of Josleen story that she has come to love and admire. But it doesn’t come. Instead, she drones on about a near scripted series of events. Kelovath the villain? But Josleen had said he was not. Kelovath was a paladin! Paladins weren’t smart enough to cover up murders and all these sorts of plots. ‘Treated me well’ earns a little grunt from Hildegarde, one that Josleen might recognise as ‘I don’t believe a word of that’. “She’s leaving now,” she tells Macon firmly, she won’t have it any differently. “I will take Josleen out of this fort and we will return to Frostmaw,” she tells him and all his gathered men.
Macon indeed does feel an inkling of fury well up inside him in tune with Josleen, but he ignores it as part of his usual reaction to hearing ‘The Fallen Paladin’s’ name. Still, despite him ignoring the feeling it still produces that pulse of infuriating aura to be released, still not quite on par with the effect of The Rage Stone itself, and tugs at the nerves of those present and not immune, including the guards, some of them shuffling anxiously in place and resting hands at the hilt of their weapons in anticipation of The Queen of Frostmaw acting on her clear anger. Then Hildegarde says something very similar to what she said when freeing Hureig from Macon’s custody; that she is taking Josleen, and this causes him to raise a brow and his eye to twitch. It is an irrational anger that he feels now. Isn’t this for the best? It would be so simple for him to allow them both to leave without any conflict. She -was- free to leave for the past several weeks after all. What makes this any different? Another wave of fury flows outward from the king, stronger this time, finally rivaling the stone. Several guards draw their swords, believing it to be their duty to stop the dragon from ‘freeing’ the thane, and further damaging Macon and Josleen’s case that she is not a captive here. “-HOLD!-” The Rage Knight roars at those who have pulled their weapons, nearly shaking with fury now. He raises his hand and points at Hildegarde, who is clearly disrespecting him in his kingdom once again, “I ‘ave kept ‘er well,” he insists and gets the next few words out through gritted teeth, saying them more to Josleen than the Queen of Frostmaw, “She is free t’go when -she- pleases,” emphasising that this is not a decision that Hildegarde is making and that this ‘exchange’ is an act of peace, not of hostility like the freeing of Kelovath and Hureig by Frostmaw.
Josleen can anticipate most of Hildegarde’s doubts. The Thane knows she’ll have to answer for a lot, and that the Queen may disagree with the decisions she made. That’s a bridge she’ll have to cross later. When Hildegarde announces that they are leaving, Josleen nods is about to whisper that she’ll gather her things, but Macon’s rage reaches her first. After a month in his company, and more intimately than any other, she’s thoroughly infected by him. His anger becomes hers, and there’s no logic to it. His goals are now hers; his anger, hers. The Thane’s approach may be different than Macon’s, but suddenly, when a second ago she was ready to leave to de-escalate a tense situation, now she desires nothing more than to make it clear that this is a peaceful negotiation, DAMMIT, and Macon treated her well! This will be peaceful, or so help me god!! She growls! It’s a tiny, feminine growl that’s easily drowned out by Macon’s raised voice. “It’s as he says!” Her sudden flip to Macon’s side reeks of supernatural influence, in large part because it is. “I will go with you because you are my Queen and my friend, but I’m not running from King Macon, because he has given me no reason to run! That must be clear!” She’s shouting. Why is she shouting? She intends to storm past the guard to fetch her things, but the guards, who see Josleen as still captive in some capacity, block her exit. One guard shoves her back towards Macon, and the other barks, “You leave when the king dismisses you!” Josleen stumbles a little in her heeled boots, but keeps her footing and glares at the guard who shoved. Though Josleen would lose a fight to a kitten, the target of her glare somehow feels threatened enough to draw his sword for no logical reason. Indeed, his sanity is starting to crack under the onslaught of Macon’s rage. His comrade is soon to join him.
Hildegarde might have discussed the matter a little further were it not for Josleen’s sudden and suspect outburst! The bard was never quite so rude or coarse with her, never! This was clearly the work of the foul Macon. Not only did Josleen reek of the vile man, but her behaviour did too. Weapons have been drawn and Hildegarde is on her own; Josleen is being shoved by the guards and dictated to. This is enough for Hildegarde; these people will not remain peaceful for long. Drawing her sword would take far too long; unclasping her halberd from her back would be the same. The low rumbling in her throat has since gathered volume and rage – perhaps due to Macon’s furious presence – which has now forced her into action, as her hand deftly reaches up to grasp the ornate crown that Tristram had bestowed upon her (much too fanciful for her liking) and near enough twirl back towards a guard who has drawn his sword. She dances along his arm until she can stand behind him, hand firmly clasping the wrist (and partially his hand) attached to his sword-wielding hand as the bejewelled point of her crown sticks against his throat. It would only take a sharp jerk to have spout blood from his neck. “Macon Jauzon!” she roars his name, “In the sight of gods and men alike, I challenge you to single combat!” Surrounded by the guards of his fort, the servants of his fort and his citizens… it’d be embarrassing to refuse. Downright dishonourable.
Josleen looks on with alarm as Hildegarde attacks the guard, faintly gasping ‘No!’ To slay him would complicate their prospects for peace, but Josleen is not moved to intervene any further to spare the guard’s life. She won’t undermine her Queen’s decision here. The guard did attack the Thane, after all, albeit mildly. But the challenge issued to Macon, while also sensible and in line with war’s decorum, she cannot suffer in silence. She has no doubt Hildegarde would win, a perspective Macon may not appreciate. On the other hand, he may appreciate the fact Josleen would do anything to prevent that outcome. She pleads with the silver. “No! Please, Hilde, please.” She stands between the Queen of War and King of Rage, palms facing Hildegarde like taming a lion. “Let’s go. Let us go, you and I back to Frostmaw. Please drop this challenge… please don’t do this.” She can’t bring herself to explain why; it’s too shameful. Her lips quiver in and out of a frown. “Peace, we can reach peace. If you want to strike the one who’s harmed me, then your quarrel is with Kelovath. Please believe me.”
Macon and Josleen are caught in some kind of insane fury feedback loop and these poor guards (and Hildegarde?) are falling victim to it. His grey eyes widen when Josleen is shoved and he quickly glances behind him at the rage axe. He is torn between turning to grab the weapon, and flat out charging, without the axe, that idiot who has now drawn his sword against the thane. He is about to bellow out something like ‘The next one to touch either one of them will be executed,’ but Hildegarde is ahead of him in acting. He reaches out an open palm to call his weapon, but it does not move, because no Rage Stone… how infuriating. He has to fully turn and bend to grab the axe, naturally pivoting it in one hand so that the handle can fall neatly into the palm of the other. As he leans over, the stone crown of the Hard Kingdom slides off his head harmlessly onto the seat of the throne, almost as if he had planned it that way. Smooth. Straightening himself and turning back to the action, The Furious King is off the dais and charging. It is unclear, at first, just who his target is. Hildegarde takes a hostage and it no longer matters who was about to feel the brunt of the death knight’s rage, because he stops after a few small steps used to slow his momentum. The Rage Axe is transferred to his right hand and the butt of the handle is slammed lightly against the floor. He raises a brow at the dragon’s challenge and considers it on his own before Josleen jumps into the fray so to speak, standing with her back to him and between he and Hildegarde and the captive Larketian. Once again The Rage King turns up his nose, looking over the bard at the Queen. While The Thane pleads, the death knight mocks, “For wha’ terms? The Kingdom of War ‘as nothing I desire. For one month I ‘ave been working towards peace while you sat on the mountain planning war. Now you come t’me, as a Savage Queen,” he chose those words on purpose, didn’t he? “...Enraged (that’s his fault, partially), and violent. You cannot believe the words of your own Thane because they deny you combat…” He is twisting absolutely everything that has come to pass so that he may shine and she appear tarnished here, “We will fight…” he concludes, “if tha’ is all tha’ you know.”
Josleen cannot believe what she is hearing and turns to face the Rage Knight in disbelief. She cries out reproachfully, “Macon!” The way she says his name betrays their intimacy a little. There’s no title, no formality, just a name uttered in total confidence that she can challenge him in this small way. “Please, your quarrel is with Kelovath too. As is mine.” As she speaks to him, she moves a little closer, her body language suggesting that she itches to hold him back physically by pressing on his chest, but she dares not touch him before the Queen.
Hildegarde only held a man to protect herself, not with the intent of killing him. She didn’t like to spill unnecessary blood. Macon’s words cause her to huff loudly, a thin veil of frost pluming from her nostrils involuntarily. Just as she is ready to gently let the guard-turned-hostage go and make room for the fight with Macon, Josleen has reprimanded him and speaks to him with an intimacy that is all too familiar to Hildegarde. Something is… Something is afoot. Had Macon had his way with her? The scent. The dress. The red and raw skin of her chest and near her throat. Had he harmed her?? Hildegarde cannot bear it any longer. This rumbling began in her throat once more and suddenly the woman is no longer there. In her place looms a great Silver dragon, forcing the guards to all stumble back and gasp with fright and awe; some ready for the challenge they face. With a scaly hand does Hildegarde sweep Josleen off her feet, her massive head swinging side to side as she tries to figure out how to leave. These doors are people doors, not dragon doors. Seemingly uncaring for any assault that might rain upon her, the dragon lumbers towards the wall of Fort Freedom and she lumbers without any intention of stopping: breaking through it with ease. It’s like walking through paper. But the trebuchets could be problematic. The massive dragon begins to scale the fort, returning to her original point of the top of the parapet where she would curl around it for a moment. She needs to assess what’s happening first. They need to go, though. They cannot delay. With a bellow, the dragon leaps from the parapet and relies upon her wings to raise her up into the cool embrace of the sky; letting bricks and stone cascade from the likely damaged (if not ruined) parapet. The dragon was leaving with her treasure.
Macon takes a brief moment to raise an armored hand and shake his head towards a particularly jumpy group of guards, stopping them from doing anything stupid. The Rage Knight has done his best to forcefully calm himself, more for their sake than his own, and so they hold back for now. The guard in the queen’s grasp struggles half-heartedly, whenever he can wiggle without causing his own demise, he does. Macon lowers his stone gaze on Josleen as she approaches him and Hildegarde goes out of focus to him, so much so that she could kill the guard in that moment without him noticing. The King of Larket shakes his head slowly at the bard, a frown tugging at his lips, but not allowed to form. ‘I am doing what I have to.’ are the unspoken words. She can choose to imagine them in his accent or not. Actual words are meant to accompany that look, something about his enemy being anyone that would seek to harm Larket, but Hildegarde does something even more crazy than killing that guard and Josleen is suddenly being kidnapped by a dragon. “Josleen!” Macon growls the name out in such a fit that it is almost incomprehensible. Some guards back off, some seek the glory of slaying a queen and a dragon in one swing. Scales likely easily fend off all but the most powerful and gifted of strikes. The wall is broken through and some guards have been trampled over or fallen victim to falling rubble. The Rage Knight gives chase through the opening, slowing sympathetically to the injuries of his soldiers, but not stopping his pursuit. ‘This is hostile, right?’ This is the thought that crosses the mind of the siege weapons master and the order is given to fire ballistae. Trebuchets are held until the dragon clears the fort and then they go off too. Panic and rage boil in the death knight in equal parts when he sees the projectiles flying towards the dragon and her precious cargo. The reloading process is nearly complete by the time the king finds the leader of the siege division and grabs him by the throat. He is muttering some prayer under his breath and the man being lifted off the ground begins to cry out. No physical damage is being applied by The Death Knight, but he is forcing pure pain on the weapons master through that prayer to Vakmathras. “I will kill anyone who fires anything else at tha’ dragon.“ Another growl of a sentence that this guy damn well better understand. Macon throws him against the nearest balista and glares at him to give the ceasefire order. Inwardly the head of the siege division questions letting Hildegarde go after she just broke a wall of the fortress, but he does as he is told, because he really likes living…
Josleen, like Macon, is caught by surprise when she is scooped up by a massive claw as easily as one plucks a flower out from weeds. She doesn’t resist, both because she can’t and because she doesn’t want to. She knows she is safe with the silver, and that this is the best way to maintain any shred of hope for peace. Yet she looks for Macon through the hole in the wall, through the cascade of dust and bricks, seeking his steely stare to ensure he is alright. She holds his gaze for as long as she can, and when she can’t anymore she is surprised by the acute regret that corkscrews in her chest. Her discomfort at being separated from Macon is cut short by the trebuchets which demand all of her attention. She sharply focuses on surviving and protecting her queen as best she can. Josleen shouts to alert Hildegarde to any boulders coming at the dragon’s blind spots, placing them like the numbers on a clock. Hopefully the saurian is agile enough in the air to avoid them all. The attack angers the Thane, of course, but her anger is sharply focused on all of Larket’s military save its highest commander whom she trusts did not order this attack simply because she trusts he wouldn’t strike at -her-. Indeed, no other strike seems to be coming. But if it were just Hildegarde flying away, would he order the attack, and then another? Probably, yes, he would. Well then, maybe she is a bit angry with King Macon, too. Once Hildegarde is out of firing range and Josleen’s adrenaline subsides, she hugs the scaly claw tightly and her forehead rests just behind that razor-sharp claw. Frostmaw bound, with no good tidings to report and a lot of explaining to do.
Hildegarde is only just agile enough to avoid the fire of the trebuchets! It looked close for a moment or two, but soon she and her treasure are mere dots in the sky; hurrying back to Frostmaw and ever further away from Larket. Hildegarde had been rash today. So rash. But this is what happened when people claimed the treasure that was her own.