04-11-2022, 01:37 AM
(This post was last modified: 04-11-2022, 01:49 AM by Aiden Finnegan.)
The Hill of Tara
The Isles of Erie
“I often wonder if Uscias would have attempted to overthrow Nuada, had he not fallen to Balor,” Abcan said almost as soon as the Doorway snapped shut behind them. They stood upon a low, flattened hill to the east of the Hill of Tara. The King’s Guard dispersed almost at once and Lugh’s personal bodyguards replaced them just as quickly. He had argued against such arrangements, of course, but the High Council simply wouldn’t hear of it. Yes, it was all well and fine that he had single-handedly taken down Nuada’s killer, but he was not High King then. Funny how a title could change so much for one man.
“You’ve clearly never seen the man fight, have you, Ab?” Lugh said as his eyes turned down to his friend. The dwarf was incredibly well-informed, but there were still holes in his knowledge. Lugh was beginning to see that those holes often had to do with war.
“That good?” Abcan asked with an air of disbelief. His hand went inside his robes, and for an instant, Lugh thought the man was about to take out the ogma cores. Instead, a fully packed smoking pipe came out. Lugh embraced the Light and lit it for Abcan before the dwarf had the opportunity to do so.
“Oh no, he’s dreadful,” Lugh replied with the biggest smile on his lips, “Why do you think he took the Sword of Light so quickly? Even I would have let the King’s corpse cool before such an action.”
Abcan raised an eyebrow and stared at Lugh flatly.
“Perhaps that’s an exaggeration,” Lugh said after a moment. Abcan nodded in reply, adopting his own wide grin. Blue smoke began to fall from his lips as he started to form smoke rings; that was a neat little trick Lugh had never been able to master without some help from the Light.
“All that hot air about militaristic might and honor is just that then – hot air?”
“I’ve always thought it was his way of overcompensating – but yes. Why should anyone outside of the Court question his prowess as a warrior if he makes his entire existence about battle?” Lugh asked before their little group made their way down the slope and towards the Hill proper. A steady trail of blue smoke was left in their wake.
“I’ll stop singing songs about his countless battles and victories, in that case,” Abcan offered as they walked on. Lugh did not even think before shaking his head. Abcan went on quickly, “And why not? The prince certainly has it out for you and I wouldn’t want for him to have more glory in the eyes of the people than is necessary.”
“Why, Abcan, my dearest friend. Do you know how many Bards he paid to write and compose those many, many, many songs? No. Let them be heard by everyone. Should the Prince ever deign to actually fight one of his own battles – well, it would be much more satisfying for the people to see him fall flat on his arse.”
“And this is why we get along so well,” Abcan said with a hearty chuckle as they reached the top of the Hill and opened the main gate.
Nuada’s Keep was the finest building in all the Isles. Bards sang of it, children dreamed of it, and warriors prayed that they might defend it. It was built by three men using all of their skills – both mortal and mystical. The entirety of the structure went down forty levels beneath the ground, each descending level had been built wider than the last. The fortieth level itself was often said to be as large as one of the Great Cities. Lugh knew for a fact that the fortieth level was slightly less than half the size of Gorias. His personal apartments were on that final level. Indeed, many of the higher-ranking Dagda held personal rooms on the fortieth floor.
Before taking the throne, Lugh had been living in a much smaller keep in Gorias. Cethen, one of Lugh’s uncles, had been High Prince of Gorias at the time. The blessed man had taken Lugh under his wing once Nuada had accepted him as a member of the Court. In those early years, Uncle Cethen had made it his mission to see Lugh succeed him as High Prince. Countless hours of sparring and tutoring had marked those long-ago days. Had that never happened, Lugh might never have found himself with the Crown of Maeve upon his brow, nor would he have found himself sitting with Abcan.
They occupied Lugh’s larger sitting room; it featured two fireplaces, a number of bookcases, and the most comfortable easy chairs in all of the Isles. When the two found themselves alone together for any length of time, the words between them flowed constantly and effortlessly. It was in that sitting room that they had wasted many an hour going back and forth. Much like they were doing at that moment. The pair had been back from Findias for a number of hours, but their conversation had never stopped.
“Yes, I much prefer their silks. Trust me, Lugh, there is a reason you know Lakshmi’s name when I mention her land,” Abcan said between puffs on his pipe.
“True, the quality may be better – but you cannot compare it to good Atlantean work. I mean – by Danu – think of the labyrinthian pattern! A classic! You’re wearing it!” Lugh exclaimed as he pointed to the silken under-robe that was peaking out of Abcan’s sleeve. The bard had the grace to redden as he stuffed the bit of fabric back up into the outer-robe.
“My under-robe is a knock-off,” Abcan mumbled almost imperceptibly.
“A what?!” Lugh exclaimed as he leapt out of his chair, “The fabulous and amazing Abcan is wearing a fake Atlantean under-robe!?”
Abcan reddened even further and looked away before muttering, “I never wear my real stuff in public.”
“Public? We’re forty levels underground. Who will possibly-,” Lugh faltered as a loud knock came from the double doors that lead out into the hallway. Abcan looked up from his seat and pursed his lips. Lugh rolled his eyes and called out for the stranger to enter. Abcan went back to blowing smoke rings and looking anywhere but at Lugh.
The rounded double doors swung open to admit the newest member of Court, Master Kerr’gan. The ‘old’ blacksmith had enacted quite the transformation since taking up residence in the Hill. Gone was the threadbare clothing and boiled leather, banished away was his mangey mane of greying hair and matching beard. The Dagda now donned the finest of tunics and the most ornamented of breastplates, his hair always coiffed and skin perfectly scented.
Lugh pursed his own lips.
“You wished to see me, my King?” Master Kerr’gan asked in a perfect, courtly voice. He swept a perfect bow; even flourishing his half cape a tad.
It was all really too much.
Lugh had to think for a moment before responding to the man, “Ah, yes. A good day to you, Master Kerr’gan. I trust you are enjoying your new home?”
“Why yes, my King!” Kerr’gan exclaimed, “It is everything I had hoped it to be. You do not mind that I have taken the liberties of hiring a personal staff?”
“Of course not. You are of my Court now and you shall not want,” Lugh said honestly. Kerr’gan had wished to take in a number of blacksmiths – both as apprentices and assistants. From all reports, it appeared that Kerr’gan no longer wanted to do the work himself. Lugh had no problem with that. Lugh only wished for results from the man.
“My King is too generous,” Kerr’gan said with another sweeping bow. Abcan guffawed before covering his mouth with his free hand, the other setting his pipe down on a side table. Lugh smiled tightly and nodded at the unnecessary bow.
“There is one thing I would like to speak to you about,” Lugh said as he embraced the Light with his might. The Spearhead came flying off from the far end of the room on fibers of Air. Kerr’gan gulped audibly as the weapon came to settle in the space between them. Lugh divided the flow and wove a complex tendril of the five elements and held it just so before saying, “Embrace the Light, if you will, Master Kerr’gan, I’d like you to see something.”
Lugh waited a moment before boring the tendril into the Spearhead. Kerr’gan’s eyes went wide as the Spearhead started to glow white and gold. It spun faster and faster as the tendril was sucked into it. Lugh let go of the tendril but held onto his other fiber of Air. The glowing stopped completely once the last of the tendril had gone into it.
“Now try to draw the Light through the Spearhead, as if you would any Light-touched object,” Lugh commanded.
Kerr’gan apparently tried and failed before shaking his head, “I can’t. It won’t work, my King.”
“That weaving of mine is the same that creates Light-touched objects. It always works,” Lugh said as Kerr’gan gasped quietly. “This spearhead will not serve my purpose. It is imperative that I be there to weave my own Light upon the object when it is turned to Heartstone. You told me which of the Isles your source is on, Old Kerr’gan.”
The other man flinched.
“I don’t have the time to go on a hunt. You are going to bring them to Court and they are going to aid me in this, Master Kerr’gan.”
The other man relaxed slightly, “Of course, my King. But you will understand that these things take some time. My source will have to be contacted and I will have to explain the situation to them – of course- and I would not want them to feel like they are being forced into-“
Lugh clapped his hands once.
“They will be here within a fortnight, my King.”
“If they are not here within the week, I will go and pay Esras’ fine. He has the same source as you, if I recall,” Lugh said before turning away from Kerr’gan. He wove the Air and sent the Spearhead back into its wrappings. Three horns of ale came sailing back to Lugh in its place.
“Of course, my King. I would not wish for you to go to such measures,” Kerr’gan replied quickly and defeatedly.
Abcan stood up from his seat at the sight of the horns and moved to stand near Kerr’gan. Lugh gave the horns over to them and took one for himself. They drank to seal the deal between King and Courtier. After the horns were emptied, Lugh walked Kerr’gan back to the doors. If it were any other member of the Court, Lugh would have invited them to stay for the duration of the night if they so wished. Kerr'gan was still too green. He was far too easily bullied, as was just proven. The man would learn for himself soon enough. Lugh just didn't want to be the one to teach him that lesson. Abcan would surely love to do so, but still, Lugh was not feeling up to that. With the matter of the Heartstone source being cleared up, there was another pressing matter that needed to be delved into.
“I am sorry, but if you will excuse us, Master Kerr’gan. Master Abcan and I must discuss a missing Goddess,” Lugh said with a smile before ushering the old blacksmith out and closing the doors behind him.
The Isles of Erie
“I often wonder if Uscias would have attempted to overthrow Nuada, had he not fallen to Balor,” Abcan said almost as soon as the Doorway snapped shut behind them. They stood upon a low, flattened hill to the east of the Hill of Tara. The King’s Guard dispersed almost at once and Lugh’s personal bodyguards replaced them just as quickly. He had argued against such arrangements, of course, but the High Council simply wouldn’t hear of it. Yes, it was all well and fine that he had single-handedly taken down Nuada’s killer, but he was not High King then. Funny how a title could change so much for one man.
“You’ve clearly never seen the man fight, have you, Ab?” Lugh said as his eyes turned down to his friend. The dwarf was incredibly well-informed, but there were still holes in his knowledge. Lugh was beginning to see that those holes often had to do with war.
“That good?” Abcan asked with an air of disbelief. His hand went inside his robes, and for an instant, Lugh thought the man was about to take out the ogma cores. Instead, a fully packed smoking pipe came out. Lugh embraced the Light and lit it for Abcan before the dwarf had the opportunity to do so.
“Oh no, he’s dreadful,” Lugh replied with the biggest smile on his lips, “Why do you think he took the Sword of Light so quickly? Even I would have let the King’s corpse cool before such an action.”
Abcan raised an eyebrow and stared at Lugh flatly.
“Perhaps that’s an exaggeration,” Lugh said after a moment. Abcan nodded in reply, adopting his own wide grin. Blue smoke began to fall from his lips as he started to form smoke rings; that was a neat little trick Lugh had never been able to master without some help from the Light.
“All that hot air about militaristic might and honor is just that then – hot air?”
“I’ve always thought it was his way of overcompensating – but yes. Why should anyone outside of the Court question his prowess as a warrior if he makes his entire existence about battle?” Lugh asked before their little group made their way down the slope and towards the Hill proper. A steady trail of blue smoke was left in their wake.
“I’ll stop singing songs about his countless battles and victories, in that case,” Abcan offered as they walked on. Lugh did not even think before shaking his head. Abcan went on quickly, “And why not? The prince certainly has it out for you and I wouldn’t want for him to have more glory in the eyes of the people than is necessary.”
“Why, Abcan, my dearest friend. Do you know how many Bards he paid to write and compose those many, many, many songs? No. Let them be heard by everyone. Should the Prince ever deign to actually fight one of his own battles – well, it would be much more satisfying for the people to see him fall flat on his arse.”
“And this is why we get along so well,” Abcan said with a hearty chuckle as they reached the top of the Hill and opened the main gate.
Nuada’s Keep was the finest building in all the Isles. Bards sang of it, children dreamed of it, and warriors prayed that they might defend it. It was built by three men using all of their skills – both mortal and mystical. The entirety of the structure went down forty levels beneath the ground, each descending level had been built wider than the last. The fortieth level itself was often said to be as large as one of the Great Cities. Lugh knew for a fact that the fortieth level was slightly less than half the size of Gorias. His personal apartments were on that final level. Indeed, many of the higher-ranking Dagda held personal rooms on the fortieth floor.
Before taking the throne, Lugh had been living in a much smaller keep in Gorias. Cethen, one of Lugh’s uncles, had been High Prince of Gorias at the time. The blessed man had taken Lugh under his wing once Nuada had accepted him as a member of the Court. In those early years, Uncle Cethen had made it his mission to see Lugh succeed him as High Prince. Countless hours of sparring and tutoring had marked those long-ago days. Had that never happened, Lugh might never have found himself with the Crown of Maeve upon his brow, nor would he have found himself sitting with Abcan.
They occupied Lugh’s larger sitting room; it featured two fireplaces, a number of bookcases, and the most comfortable easy chairs in all of the Isles. When the two found themselves alone together for any length of time, the words between them flowed constantly and effortlessly. It was in that sitting room that they had wasted many an hour going back and forth. Much like they were doing at that moment. The pair had been back from Findias for a number of hours, but their conversation had never stopped.
“Yes, I much prefer their silks. Trust me, Lugh, there is a reason you know Lakshmi’s name when I mention her land,” Abcan said between puffs on his pipe.
“True, the quality may be better – but you cannot compare it to good Atlantean work. I mean – by Danu – think of the labyrinthian pattern! A classic! You’re wearing it!” Lugh exclaimed as he pointed to the silken under-robe that was peaking out of Abcan’s sleeve. The bard had the grace to redden as he stuffed the bit of fabric back up into the outer-robe.
“My under-robe is a knock-off,” Abcan mumbled almost imperceptibly.
“A what?!” Lugh exclaimed as he leapt out of his chair, “The fabulous and amazing Abcan is wearing a fake Atlantean under-robe!?”
Abcan reddened even further and looked away before muttering, “I never wear my real stuff in public.”
“Public? We’re forty levels underground. Who will possibly-,” Lugh faltered as a loud knock came from the double doors that lead out into the hallway. Abcan looked up from his seat and pursed his lips. Lugh rolled his eyes and called out for the stranger to enter. Abcan went back to blowing smoke rings and looking anywhere but at Lugh.
The rounded double doors swung open to admit the newest member of Court, Master Kerr’gan. The ‘old’ blacksmith had enacted quite the transformation since taking up residence in the Hill. Gone was the threadbare clothing and boiled leather, banished away was his mangey mane of greying hair and matching beard. The Dagda now donned the finest of tunics and the most ornamented of breastplates, his hair always coiffed and skin perfectly scented.
Lugh pursed his own lips.
“You wished to see me, my King?” Master Kerr’gan asked in a perfect, courtly voice. He swept a perfect bow; even flourishing his half cape a tad.
It was all really too much.
Lugh had to think for a moment before responding to the man, “Ah, yes. A good day to you, Master Kerr’gan. I trust you are enjoying your new home?”
“Why yes, my King!” Kerr’gan exclaimed, “It is everything I had hoped it to be. You do not mind that I have taken the liberties of hiring a personal staff?”
“Of course not. You are of my Court now and you shall not want,” Lugh said honestly. Kerr’gan had wished to take in a number of blacksmiths – both as apprentices and assistants. From all reports, it appeared that Kerr’gan no longer wanted to do the work himself. Lugh had no problem with that. Lugh only wished for results from the man.
“My King is too generous,” Kerr’gan said with another sweeping bow. Abcan guffawed before covering his mouth with his free hand, the other setting his pipe down on a side table. Lugh smiled tightly and nodded at the unnecessary bow.
“There is one thing I would like to speak to you about,” Lugh said as he embraced the Light with his might. The Spearhead came flying off from the far end of the room on fibers of Air. Kerr’gan gulped audibly as the weapon came to settle in the space between them. Lugh divided the flow and wove a complex tendril of the five elements and held it just so before saying, “Embrace the Light, if you will, Master Kerr’gan, I’d like you to see something.”
Lugh waited a moment before boring the tendril into the Spearhead. Kerr’gan’s eyes went wide as the Spearhead started to glow white and gold. It spun faster and faster as the tendril was sucked into it. Lugh let go of the tendril but held onto his other fiber of Air. The glowing stopped completely once the last of the tendril had gone into it.
“Now try to draw the Light through the Spearhead, as if you would any Light-touched object,” Lugh commanded.
Kerr’gan apparently tried and failed before shaking his head, “I can’t. It won’t work, my King.”
“That weaving of mine is the same that creates Light-touched objects. It always works,” Lugh said as Kerr’gan gasped quietly. “This spearhead will not serve my purpose. It is imperative that I be there to weave my own Light upon the object when it is turned to Heartstone. You told me which of the Isles your source is on, Old Kerr’gan.”
The other man flinched.
“I don’t have the time to go on a hunt. You are going to bring them to Court and they are going to aid me in this, Master Kerr’gan.”
The other man relaxed slightly, “Of course, my King. But you will understand that these things take some time. My source will have to be contacted and I will have to explain the situation to them – of course- and I would not want them to feel like they are being forced into-“
Lugh clapped his hands once.
“They will be here within a fortnight, my King.”
“If they are not here within the week, I will go and pay Esras’ fine. He has the same source as you, if I recall,” Lugh said before turning away from Kerr’gan. He wove the Air and sent the Spearhead back into its wrappings. Three horns of ale came sailing back to Lugh in its place.
“Of course, my King. I would not wish for you to go to such measures,” Kerr’gan replied quickly and defeatedly.
Abcan stood up from his seat at the sight of the horns and moved to stand near Kerr’gan. Lugh gave the horns over to them and took one for himself. They drank to seal the deal between King and Courtier. After the horns were emptied, Lugh walked Kerr’gan back to the doors. If it were any other member of the Court, Lugh would have invited them to stay for the duration of the night if they so wished. Kerr'gan was still too green. He was far too easily bullied, as was just proven. The man would learn for himself soon enough. Lugh just didn't want to be the one to teach him that lesson. Abcan would surely love to do so, but still, Lugh was not feeling up to that. With the matter of the Heartstone source being cleared up, there was another pressing matter that needed to be delved into.
“I am sorry, but if you will excuse us, Master Kerr’gan. Master Abcan and I must discuss a missing Goddess,” Lugh said with a smile before ushering the old blacksmith out and closing the doors behind him.
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