◦⊰ THE LEFT HAND OF SOME LIEGE ⊱◦
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Knight- no. A suit of armor, patched with dirty metal.
Shadow of my liege, old swan of some fallen court. In the midst of those stories of honor and bravery,
where do lesser shades of chivalry go? This one is wandering.
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Pronouns || He, They, We
Heritage || Fae-Touched of the Mountain, Valkian
Origin || The Midlands, Once!
Mechanics || Under Consideration
Profession || Knight Errant
Sign || The Pale Horse
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Standing on the cusp of six feet in height,
Ser (?) Merrily is an enterprising individual
with an apparent good nature. If you squint,
you can almost ignore the tin patching their
battered armor, the fact their cloak is clearly
a repurposed moth-eaten curtain, or even
the feathers molting from the plume of their
helm. Almost.
Woe! Do not mistake the past for the future, dearest thing, where we once chased we are now the pursued, the hunt giving way to faster steps, pressing onward- that drive which you lacked in younger years when all the world rose up to meet you with little a press, when your spear was sharp and the boars slow, or perhaps you were faster; your unlucky streak is only a beginning, a gateway to better things, greater things, to become like those who left us behind! Now it is us who will do such leaving as we please!
"WHAT IS MORE FREE THAN THE FREEDOM
TO TAKE THE CONSEQUENCES?"
When they run, my Lord chases, and I will blow the horn.
✳ The Quest || Before the hunt begins, an expert huntsman seeks the quarry, assisted by a lymer- a scent-hound, for those in the back. Using evidence of broken branches or droppings, he would attempt to spy out the Hart, best with his own eye.
✳ Assembly || A morning affair, wherein the party converses over hunting plans and dinner plans, all accompanied by a fine breakfast. A debriefing, if you will.
✳ Moving || The Hart is tracked with a lymer- a scent hound. Lorraine was not one for relays, but if he was, those would be set before this stage.
✳ Chase || Nothing more free- the moments that Haunt still dreams of, the thunder of hooves and the spaces between heartbeats. Fluttering cloaks in the dark ahead.
✳ Baying || The Hart turns and becomes violent. Haunt holds the lead of the largest dog, heels dug into the soft ground as it fights to surge forward. When Lorraine takes up his spear, Haunt looks to the beast and can only see himself reflected in its eyes.
✳ Unmaking || Lorraine is up to his elbows in blood, selecting knives with a lover's care. We learn that the greatest devotion is shown in how you take a thing apart.
✳ Curée || Haunt feeds the hounds beautiful slivers of meat. The midsummer air is cool and clean deep in the forest.
