What we've all been waiting for [V&L]

[Thanos Caras]

OOC: -smacks & lectures Sheldon-

IC: So in conclusion (or rather introduction), to summarize the narration one narrator had sought to express to two other narrators...
Shit just happens, what the hey.

Life wasn't fair to men or women alike. Noble families rose. Noble families fell. Lady Danum's own family was one prime example, besides that of the Caras's and of course, the Grosvner's family! And hmph! The commoners, whose own lives hardly changed, had to put up with it all! Sad, hm?

On a random note, one could said the three prime characters in this tale did indeed have something in common with one another! Who would have fathomed such a fact! And lets be openly honest, did these previous historical facts have any weight, currently in the present? In some minut ways, perhaps... either way...
Had Isaiah felt, in some way, beholden to Rhiann because of their distant family ties? Really now, twas a question the masses who were aware of the relation, would have desired to know the answer to!

Anyway, it was better to focus on reality, than on the past. The situation was tense enough as it was, for two men who did not usually get along were at their crossroads. Their men, a mixture of Regesvard and Kelyeans, were some of the finest soldiers around! Tough, brawny men who weren't afraid to spit Death in the eye if they were challenged by the very reaper himself!
...Unless... it was Rhiann Danum. The rumors of her being a frigid bitch left many a man chilled to the bone, if not fearing for their very reproductive organs! Twas rumored more specifically, that if a man even so much as dared to look upon the former Duchess with other emotions other than respect, their manhoods would shivel up and no children would be created from their loins!

Hell, Roland & Rhiann's only child together, confirmed such a tale! And it could be said, even Thanos was... paranoid. Yes, paranoid! Still, surely there were some men in the regiment who would be willing to brave the uncharted waters and prove the rumors wrong! Perhaps two dozen? Or...just a dozen? How about half a dozen? Pshhhh, Thanos would find out soon enough. Bryce would be the first opportunistic bastard to find himself in the privileged arms of the Black Widow. The shackles were loss enough and hey, if the Lady desired to fight back...
Twas sporting to give her a fighting chance, yes?

Bryce was either way, going to lose his clothing. If it was one thing Thanos knew, it was best to completely strip a prisoner and offer them, at the very least, a scratchy burlap sack to walk in.
None of the Black Court's allies deserved to be trusted and while Edmund's own alliance was in question, twas not the time to wonder.
Bryce, it seemed, appeared intelligent enough to understand the position he was in and glancing from Thanos to Rhiann, then, Thanos couldn't help but, without a hint of warning, let go of the scruff of the man's shirt. The muscles in his arms ached, but his adrenaline was rampaging in his body.

He wanted to see what Bryce would do and though he kept his cold-hard vision on the prisoner, his found himself listening intently to the sounds around him.
Isaiah was responding in short, concise answers. Strange it was... was he so pertubed by his own Duke that he felt compelled to obey without question? Still paranoid, still suspicious, Thanos's eyes finally cut to their corners, though his head did not turn.

The men who had, by Isaiah's command and only a couple minutes before, were returning and Thanos couldn't help it as his upper lip curled in silent disdain.
Honestly, were men so incompetent? Or had something crawled up A'er's asshole and died?
Pffft, probably Isaiah's mother.
Isaiah's men had returned too quickly... it wasn't right. In fact, it was downright lazy!
Making a silent mental note, he found himself barking out two names loudly: Theodoris and Raphael. A pair of men, reluctant as they were to approach him, came, their hands questionably on their hilts and their eyes cutting between people
"Return in 'alf an 'our. Searc' t'e area, t'oroug'ly! Isaia' your men are not paid by t'e minute! Get t'em out t'ere furt'er."

Plan of action? How about Rhiann getting some action, hm? As angry as Thanos was, he was eyeing Isaiah from the corner of his vision, but he gave the Count a subtle nod to confirm his statement.
A plan of action was indeed, a plan in need.

[Rhiann]

((ooc: hope you don't mind I'm moving things on a bit, try to wrap this part up))

Bryce's heart hammered in his chest as never before... ok, perhaps he had been this worked up before, this sure that his death was imminent that his heart beat all the harder, savouring life. But he had always pulled through from one miracle or another. He wasn't expecting one now.
He felt the duke release his tunic so roughly that the fraying material tore at the hem. But that would not be enough.
Bryce heard the Duke order his men forward and send them out for half an hour. Half an hour til they moved on.
A silent command was given, and Bryce was suddenly restrained by a guard from behind while another came up and, with a few quick slashes with a dagger (accidently on purpose catching his skin also), his pathetic excuse for clothes were falling to the ground.
"Hey, no need to be rough, all you had to do was ask."
Bryce grumbled. Was it wrong that this wasn't the first time he'd been naked in public? It wasn't a devastating thing, but definately not pleasant to spend his last few minutes in his birthday suit (although it could be made remarkably more pleasant if it were hundreds of beautiful women, not angry men around him). But he shrugged.
"It's cold."
He said defensively, but there was no laughter, not even a cruel chuckle. Everyone was serious (and most were nauseous), watching to see if this servant of the Black Widow would really go through with the Duke's vile order, and if the man would be eaten alive in the process.
And then there was a shove in his back as a hint that he should get on with it.
It was eerily quiet as Bryce moved forwards, it seemed positively surreal. He stumbled as he walked towards his mistress, who had reclaimed her feet and now stood beside the carriage, watching his with deadly and unflinching green eyes. Bryce could not think of a time that she had ever given him such eye contact, such attention, and he was flattered by it.
His hand shook as he raised it, and he gritted his teeth to still the tremble. Contact with the Black Widow was forbidden, taboo, dangerous. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, her fingers so delicate that they were mere vapour to his touch. He kissed her hand, then moved closer, he could smell the perfume of her skin, so clean and sterile compared to the sweat and stench of the men that surrounded her. Bryce inhaled deeply and kept walking around her til he stood behind her. Trying to stop his shaking hands he raised them, the clink of the shackles just able to be heard. Bloody annoying things, but they would not matter soon. His rough, unworthy fingers touched upon the white skin of her shoulders, and stroked across the silk of her hair and the delicacy of her neck.

Rhiann regained her feet as the men discussed business. Was that not just the way of things, that women should be set aside while the men did the real work. Not that she saw herself as a woman, and saw other ladies as lacking use also. But she was still pleased to cause so many people such hard work.
She quietly wiped the gravel from her hands, and tried to not wince at the light graze on her left palm. It was a small wound, superficial in the grand scheme of things.
She watched the Duke turn upon her man, and treat him roughly. Rhiann would not have been surprised to see the Duke strike him dead - Thanos seemed in such a mood. But no, he held back, though it would have been better to kill Cornwallis when he had the chance.
And then the Duke's next command made Rhiann inhale sharply, and her eyes glitter dangerously. What a sick, twisted man, how obsessed was he with sex that he would encourage his rabble to take turns on her like a common whore - she was a Danum!
But once the shock passed, it suddenly became much clearer, much easier.
And Thanos even offered Rhiann the opportunity to carry out her plan.
Bryce looked up at her questioningly, and Rhiann kept his gaze. He knew what to do, what was expected.
Rhiann had always maintained the only thing she had in this world, when stripped of title and wealth, was her reputation and her pride. A claim she had voiced to her husband, to her lover Balaric, to the Count and even this Duke. There was no way on this earth that she was going to allow her pride and respect to be taken by these worthless and common men. There was no life to be reclaimed after such a catastrophe.
Rhiann ignored the talk of the Duke and Count, it was quite refreshing that these things were no longer her concern. Instead she kept her gaze firmly on her man, Bryce Cornwallis. She noticed hi nervousness as he walked towards her naked (not the prettiest sight she had ever seen). Unexpectedly, he took her hand and kissed it, and Rhiann felt her expression soften at such a surprising sign of respect, even though she sentenced him to death.
She tried to repress the shudder of someone in her personal space as his coarse hands treated her delicate skin like sand paper on silk. And as his fingers traced the outline of her neck Rhiann looked up to Duke Caras.
"Every misery that follows will be your fault."
She said, her unfeminine voice ringing loud through the eerie silence.
And with that...
In one sharp movement, Bryce, the trained killer, snapped her fragile neck.
The Black Widow always had an alternate plan, including how to end things on her terms, instantly sentencing her Caras hostages to join her in death.

[Isaiah Grosvner]

Did Isaiah feel a sense of loyalty to Rhiann because of some distant family relation? Well in truth she was not family as she had forfeit the name of du Nord upon her marriage with Roland deGrada. Did the masses know of the du Nord and Grosvner relation very well at all? The Count suspected the current person who had restored the name of du Nord was not aware of his father's relation to Isaiah's father. But such things came from the past and now they were in the present. Isaiah felt loyalty to whoever had the best plan, and that was what he discussed with King Roland. Rhiann didn't share anything useful with him, and so he would keep his word to the King. Though when Isaiah made promises he did usually keep them, it was always the details that were overlooked and more open to changes.

The Count was not too fond of this plan to have men rape Rhiann Danum, as under such circumstances she was a prisoner of war, if only her claims of an attack upon Caras Castle were true. Some of his family had not be nice captors in the past, but Isaiah considered himself a refined gentlemen, so he often kept people as prisoners without harm or disgrace. If someone was sentenced to death, he preferred that they die a graceful death - unless their crimes were utterly evil and dishonourable. Like the conniving woman or not, she was a master manipulator who excelled at the game of politics. Deception was her strength, and her only weakness was in her fragile physical level of strength. Though she was not much to look at, she was a dangerous woman and the most feared in Tetel'ac. Just on her skill alone, she deserved to be treated with some dignity before the scopes of her crimes were witnessed and justice could be done.

Isaiah watched as the Duke finally tore the remnants of the clothes off of Bryce, and pushed him in the way of the Duchess. The Count didn't have a good feeling about this. It would be a terrible sight to watch Rhiann get raped by one of her Black Court henchmen as the Duke had intended. But no, there was something in the way Rhiann acted, how her eyes locked with Bryce. He would pay one hundred gold coins to wonder the devious thoughts going through their heads. The man walked slow, and nervous over to the mistress of his Black Court. Well anyone would be nervous to get close to Rhiann and follow the order of a bloodthirsty Duke to rape her.

But the little movement stopped upon the news of his men, coming back, and yes it was not a long scouting exercise. He turned to Sir Brandon and let his eyes widen in some frustration. "Sir Brandon, get the men back out there and do a more thorough search. His Grace has given you half an hour to go as far as time will allow," he ordered. He watched them pick up additional men to move out and ride into the distance, splitting up into a few groups to cover all directions. Well they better report back with anything useful for the Duke. At least the Duke had sent some of his men to go out with them too.

But alas, his attention turned back to the shackled man who had made his way over to Rhiann. Something was not right, maybe it was the thought of watching the man rape her on Duke Caras' orders. Bryce appeared nervous, but it was the kiss on Rhiann's hand that made the Count suddenly realise that foul deeds were amiss, and the Black Widow's facial expression was not one of a woman preparing to be raped. "Something is not right," the Count muttered to himself, not sure if the Duke wanted to hear his reservations on this idea or not. The spider then spoke out venom, one last threat to the Duke of Kelyea. Isaiah's head turned and he looked at Rhiann puzzled why she was so insistent, until he noticed Bryce behind her. His hands were around her neck, he stepped into the direction but it was too late, Rhiann Danum fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. She was dead.

"Shit," he shouted after the fact, rushing over to kick Bryce Cornwallis to the ground immediately. In retrospect it was a bad idea putting them close to each other, but things were always more clear in hindsight. The past could not be changed, but Bryce could take a few good thumping kicks to the ribs. Isaiah kicked toward the man harder. Well this either made things easy, or more difficult for the situation. If she went to her death so assured of the threats against Thanos, it made Isaiah start to realise that perhaps the Black Widow was not lying in this instance. The Duke's family was very likely in dire straits. He turned to look at Duke Caras, his eyes looking into those of his liege lord. Well a plan was definitely in need, but now the plans would have to change given this new mess at their feet.

[Thanos Caras]

OOC: I do not mind, the less messier, the better I suppose; however I want to clarify a few things.
a.) Excellent post darling! [in reference to Rhiann]
b.) Almost everyone was utterly stunned by this 'action;' myself, on the other hand, was not. Hopefully my post explains why.
c.) To be honest, I was maniacally laughing by the end of reading your post the first time. Bryce, bless his soul, has a special place in m- no, Thanos's heart; although... the Duke is quite assured the bastard wouldn't hesitate to kill him because of his unwavering loyalty to the Black Court.
-thumbs up-
d.) I do hope you enjoy the portion dedicated to Rhiann's obituary. Thanos was quite happy to, with his thoughts, create one for her. Does it involve sexual gratification of the personal kind? I cannot say; simply read.
e.) Sheldon, your post was good, but Thanos didn't cut Bryce's clothes off; the guards close by did.
f.) And Sheldon, I'm putting my foot down and we are going to discuss Kelyean affairs over the past twenty years, because it's getting close to that point, we may be butting heads. If we cannot agree to certain affairs, DG can decide. He's neutral and doesn't allow me to get away with everything /I/ want to do.




In-character:
Rage. It was never a lovely emotion. Pray tell, how was one expected to combat rage? With outright violence? With the means of other people holding the turbulent person back from their focused target? While the ideas were plausible, they were hardly being employed upon the Duke of Kelyea as he continued to stand there, inwardly raging. Conflicted with emotions other than rage, he was also conflicted with memories...

For twenty-two years past, he had served as the head of Kelyea, having led its inhabitants since the age of fourteen. People of political influence would have never dared to place a young man of fourteen upon such a seat of power, but it could not be helped. His father Thanos Alexandros Caras the First, a supporter of Lucian, sought to serve and protect him until his last dying breath, since the days shortly after Cyrus Grosvner was prosecuted. His late wife, the former Duchess Jezebel, had fled, but some of her children, and their offspring, did not.
To this day, they still held some political power, but even after Lucian was done away with, these children of Jezebel never resumed their appropriate place of power.
They should've been eternally grateful they were not entirely stripped of their titles and put to death. They should've been also grateful their close of kin were not put to death either.
It did not matter if it happened over twenty years ago. It would not matter if it had happened yesterday! To be grateful, eternally, was meant to be literally, forever and a half.

Kelyea was deeply scarred by it's history of the A'er religion and those of magical orientation. Kelyea was also scarred by the brutality against the Regesvard itself! Who would dare to place another Grosvner in control the Dukedom, hm?
Some people learned the first time! And who, pray tell, would have believed, that in two decades, the very Commander of the Regesvard, not to mention a worshipper of the Gairan religion, was the Duke of Kelyea!
Surely the Grosvner ancestors were rolling in their mausoleums!

People changed. The world changed. Honour was not held in its highest regard as it used to be... where had it all gone wrong?
Well, as stated before, shit just happened, what the hey!

What business was there to discuss? Thanos was no longer speaking and he was most certainly did not intend to until the scene before him unfolded.
If a person sorely believed he was doing this for mere jollies, needed to sorely stop and ponder twiceover. The deep-set frown on his face, the dulling glint in his eye, the stilling of his body, it denoted a man who was either repressing his rage, or was, in some way, calming.
He waited. He watched. And although he saw Bryce moving to place himself behind Rhiann, Thanos hardly batted an eyelash out of place.
By then, if he had truly wanted to, he would have stepped forward to intercept Bryce. He would have ceased his actions and forced Rhiann, by wretched on her dark, shining ebony hair, to the filthy ground, but he did not.

He simply continued to watch. Watch... and wait. Arms closely crossed over one another and shifting his tawny, unreadable gaze slowly from Bryce, he looked intently at Rhiann.
There was a time, long ago in his younger years, he might have admitted she had a certain charm. The beauty she once had, once radiated had long since been smothered by the expense of time. [not to mention when Thanos's hormones were on the rampage and he simply could not help his young, inexperienced, scarring imagination]
She spent her life, scheming one malicious plot after the next and what, in the end, did it give her?
A dead son.
A husband to no longer call her own.
A moment of euphoria, when she might have believed she was in finger's reach of the country's crown.

While there was nothing truly feminine about her, arguably, had she learned to be just a bit softer, more accepting of her children, and of all people, her husband.
Had the future followed this course in such a situation, she... might have obtained the seat next to Roland. Then she could have offed him!
Funny how things went...

Thanos had met whores far more honorable than this woman and she deserved every ounce of pain she would gain, in the end, for all the lives her and her comrades of the Black Court had ordered the murder of. Thanos knew all too well, while the concept of suffering was adamantly employed in their schemes, it often led to one outcome.
Death.
He had told her, already, she had signed the death warrants of his family and plausibly, his friends and comrades at arms. He was no fool and he most certainly was never meant to be taken as one...
It was why Roland, of all people, appointed him to the head of the Regesvard. He saw Thanos in ways most could not; just as Thanos could see Roland, despite Roland easily being Thanos's senior by twelve years.

Already wounded by the loss of a wife ten years ago, the fresh injuries Rhiann de Grada sought to inflict upon Thanos, emotionally, was pathetic. Her well-thought out plan had back-fired and while Thanos was mentally concocting some scheme of his own, his eyes were unwavering upon the former Duchess.
She was dangerous. She was deadly, but in the end, she was still mortal. No one lasted forever; not even Thanos, and he understood it.
The way Bryce kissed her hand before, the way he stroked her neck, was not the way a man, desperate to save his own life, would have acted.
He could have stopped him. He already knew something was up, but again, he did not such damn thing.

It wasn't arrogance he felt, in fact, it was far from it. The frown upon his mouth deepened and though his eyebrows furrowed, he kept watch... still...
When Rhiann chose to grace the Duke of Kelyea her piercing emerald gaze, he did not so much as flinch as he regarded her. One cold face to another, naught more than a breath passed as she began to speak, announcing to the world how the misery which would follow would be his fault.
Again, pathetic.

Rhiann believed her world was a catastrophe and that, in the end, she no longer would have anything to regain from it; however, there were those who struggled through life, through the pain and sorrow, through the tears and loss, seeking to find those brief moments of joy and triumph.
For all the suffering those people endured, they were the stronger ones. They were more experienced. What experience did she hope to gain, in passing from this life into the next?
None, simply none at all. Eventually people would forget her and further down the road, she would be naught more than a lingering memory. Not as the mother of the now Duke of Fexlund, but rather the monster hiding underneath children's straw beds (along with the Butcher), and the banshee who is heard screaming through the darkness.

She spoke and in another passing breath, her fragile world shattered from light into darkness.
No angel of Death would carry her twisted, hardly recognizable soul -- he was sure of that. If he even reacted... it was merely to briefly close his eyes for a moment and then open them once more.
The sound of Rhiann's neck breaking, sounded eerily similar to the snapping of pheasant bones in a fat, greasy nobleman's hands and her body, without sound, like a dead weight, sagged down... down... until she ungraciously, for perhaps the first time in her life, fell to the ground in a careless, unbecoming heap of useless flesh, muscle, and bone.

Closing his eyes again, Isaiah was beginning to go into an uproar, besides the men around him and he found himself shifting his weight finally from one leg to the next, tilting his head to the side before he barked a single word -- a word forming a name.
"ISAIA' STOP."
The Count's name, to be precise! Oh my! A name and an order! Heavy as his accent was, he found his eyes unexpressively glancing in Bryce's direction.
He remained he was, unwavering still, and quiet save for the barked out name he used.

Why he did not react, many would believe him to be too stunned for words -- hell, insipid perhaps; but strangely... a thought had come to him, minutes before. What Rhiann said to him; how Rhiann reacted...
If Rhiann truly wanted to live, she would have fought for breath, she would have fought Bryce even....
And thus... she did not.

Rhiann sentenced her own self to death, by the hand of her own man. It made him wonder, earlier, when she spoke of not fearing death, how she would react if one of her own men was brought before her.
Well, he certainly got his answer.

However, if one were to believe, the Caras hostages were sentenced to death, along side her own... well...
The nerve-twitching, still dying alabaster rack of unfeminine flesh in a rich black dress,had another thing coming up between her twisted, cooling thighs.

At least, at the end of all this, he would adhere to a single wish Rhiann had spoken of. And while a person would say, it could not be considered a wish...
He would make sure Edmund du Nord remained alive.

OOC: -twitches- Horrible nightmares.
So Rhiann my love, care to play chess with me - hard mode?
-cricks fingers and eyes Sheldon-
Silly boy, I hope you're ready for this because no one on Tet is going to see this coming.