{"id":1224,"date":"2014-08-18T12:30:01","date_gmt":"2014-08-18T16:30:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jeezjosie.com\/blog\/?p=1224"},"modified":"2014-07-28T04:34:33","modified_gmt":"2014-07-28T08:34:33","slug":"rhiallis-we-ride-pt-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/jeezjosie.com\/blog\/2014\/08\/rhiallis-we-ride-pt-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Rhiallis: We Ride, pt. 1"},"content":{"rendered":"

      Today\u2019s snippet, titled \u201cWe Ride, Pt. One\u201d, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
\n      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
\n– \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 –
\n      \tQueen Gallifrey asked her to kneel.
\n      \tTrembling, Rhiallis did so, just as her comrades had. She bowed her head and held her breath. To her left, Mira was all smiles – who would have guessed the sunny hin would one day grow into a Knight! – and on her right Kumiko wore an indecipherable expression that spoke of duty and resignation, pride and something sad – perhaps longing.
\n      \t\u201cI hereby dub thee,\u201d the Queen\u2019s voice rang out across the crowded courtyard, \u201cArise, Sir Rhiallis-Ondrash Corweir, Knight of the Fifth Crusade!\u201d
\n      \tShe hesitated for a split second, wetting her lips with a nervous pink tongue. Standing, Rhiallis gave a deep bow to the Queen and then the crowd. Despite the scent of rotten fruit which lingered in her nose and the general air of discontent in the crowd, she could not contain her smile.
\n      \tYou shall be a lieutenant, Rhiallis<\/em>, Graves had said to her, Celeste as well. But I know you\u2019ve served a bit with a militia, isn\u2019t that right? We\u2019ll lead this army, damn straight we will. Crush the enemies and take Drezen. <\/em>
\n      \tRhiallis smiled at the memory, watching as Athynacious was dubbed a Knight, then Mytra.
\n      The badge of rank Graves had given her was nearly identical to the one she once wore. She had been a lieutenant in the past, as well. A lump grew in her throat and she felt hot tears stinging her eyes. It took all of her resolve to press those memories out of her mind. She wiped a tear away, lowering her head to be inconspicuous with the motion, and glanced toward Captain – or is it Commander? I never thought I\u2019d call anyone else commander<\/em> – Graves.
\n      \t\u201cI\u2019ll need a drink after this,\u201d she muttered. Kumiko chuckled and gave a single, curt nod. Beyond Mira, Graves cast a grin at her. If the smile was plastered indelibly on Rhiallis\u2019 face, it was positively exploding from Graves\u2019. She stood tall and proud, her shoulders back and her chest out; she looked every inch the part of a perfect, righteous, holy warrior. She was a paladin a way Rhiallis never would be. It was that very aspect that had prompted Rhiallis to leave Radiance in Graves\u2019 possession. She was the very definition of a paladin; Rhiallis could never live up to that standard.
\n      \tAn hour or two later, with her second tankard of thick, dark ale in hand, Rhiallis had to edit her impressions of Graves – slightly. The woman put away grog as well (and as quickly) as any wild, barbarous lumberjack she had ever come across. And mostly, handled herself – though not without any consequences. Her words became a bit slurred, but she remained a lady.
\n      \tFrankly<\/em>, Rhiallis thought, observing Graves\u2019 drunken boasting to a priest of Shelyn, it is a relief to see that despite appearances, she is flawed as I. That degree of perfection is impossible to emulate and must be unfathomable to try and live. My high opinion of her is not diminished.<\/em>
\n      \t\u201cPerhaps it is even increased,\u201d she said into the tankard of ale.
\n      \t\u201cWhat\u2019s that, Rhiallis?\u201d
\n      \tShe glanced at her friend and smiled warmly. \u201cNot a thing, Mira. Or shall I say, Sir Mira?\u201d
\n      \tThe halfling giggled. \u201cLady Mira, maybe. Knight or no, I\u2019m still a girl.\u201d
\n      \t\u201cIts a martial title, not a noble one-\u201d
\n      \t\u201cThe Queen disagrees,\u201d Mytra said, her thick elvish accent so distinct. \u201cMinor nobility, she said. Gentry.\u201d
\n      \tRhiallis, nodding, conceeding the point. \u201cAll right, yes, but to be a Knight is honorary and specific to the war, the Crusades. Wouldn\u2019t you say?\u201d
\n      \tThe two exchanged a look, then shrugged in union. Rhiallis wanted to laugh – their positive, sunny outlook was so similar despite their differences.
\n      \t\u201cWell,\u201d she raised her glass, \u201cSir or Lady, we have been well and truly honored. Perhaps we won\u2019t receive any further doses of rotting vegetables to the face. Wouldn\u2019t that be lovely?\u201d
\n      \tThey chuckled and toasted. Rhiallis knew Mira had been sincerely upset about – and worried by – her reaction to the citizens of Kenabres who condemned their group as devils who had destroyed the Wardstone rather than heroes who had saved them from mauve flames and half-fiend-slavery.
\n      \tLater, alone in her bedroll with the frothy, fuzzy feeling of strong ale still warming her blood, Rhiallis let guard down. Her mind wandered to a time she steadfastly refused to recall, most days.
\n      \tSlowly, her lids closed and she drifted into that queer space between waking and dreaming. Vibrantly alive and yet somehow, flat, a world of memories opened up around her and she stepped forward. Instantly, the familiar scent of violets and cedar filled her nose and a dagger plunged into her heart.
\n      \tAt the foot of a great redwood, the feathery leaves whispering on the breeze, Rhiallis looked to the ground. Freshly mounded dirt ringed by pale violets. She could feel the cold, spring ground on her knees and the rich, loamy soil in her hands. Relane, a voice that matched her own cried out. Sobbing, the past-Rhiallis pressed her dirty fingers to her face and called out for a lost love.
\n      \t\u201cViggo,\u201d she whispered aloud – she knew it was, because she felt her lips move.
\n      \tThe scene shifted; from that chilled spring morning when she buried his old cloak – all she had of him – beneath the tree, to a sultry late summer evening. His arms held her close, they fit together as perfectly as seal and matrix, and past-Rhiallis\u2019 sigh echoed from Rhiallis\u2019 lips in the dark common room.
\n      \t\u201cI love you,\u201d he whispered, and nuzzled past-Rhiallis\u2019 throat. \u201cYou know that, don\u2019t you?
\n      \t\u201cI do,\u201d past-Rhiallis said. \u201cAnd today has been a perfect day. The wine, the food, the company. All perfect.\u201d
\n      \tIn her memory, Rhiallis watched Viggo sit up, disengaging himself from past-Rhiallis\u2019 arms. He smoothed down the front of his doublet and tried to compose himself; his handsome, rugged face so serious, so concerned. Past-Rhiallis righted herself as well, reaching for his nervous hands.
\n      \t\u201cWhat is it, Viggo? What troubles you?\u201d
\n      \tA smile then. Rhiallis felt her face echo the expression, though her heart ached in her chest. \u201cThere have been sightings. Outriders spotted a brigade of them heading northwest, probably from Kenabres, or one of the smaller villages around the city.\u201d
\n      \t\u201cWhat kind? How many? When do we ride?\u201d
\n– \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 –
\n\"Signed,
\nNote: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

      Today\u2019s snippet, titled \u201cWe Ride, Pt. One\u201d, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.       Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below. – \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 \u2013 –       Queen Gallifrey asked her… <\/p>\n

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