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Topics - Fiona DeAuster

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Gharnholme / Musicality
« on: March 16, 2017, 09:54:26 PM »
[size=14]Music that sparks our imagination. The tunes that paint images in thoughts and invoke creativity through the beauty of melody or the emotions it creates. These are the songs that feeds our muse[/size]

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Blood House Onyx / Dangerous Waters
« on: May 27, 2008, 03:52:43 PM »
[size=10]Heave the silver hollow sliver
Piercing through another victim
Turn and tremble be judgmental
Ignorant to all the symbols
Blind the face with beauty paste
Eventually you'll one day know

10 Years - Wasteland
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[size=14]Standing upon the balcony of Shadow Hold, Fiona gazed out over the choppy seas below. Gloved hands spread and braced upon the balustrade with a grip that showed tension that lingered upon her lithe form. She watched the fingers of the rising sun creeping it's way upon the Horizon far in the distance while pondering recent events. There was a shadow upon her pale-lit visage that bespoke of banked temper.

Insulted as she was, this was not a sensation she was unfamiliar with. Over the years, such things had been the results of many wars. Battle lines drawn over barbed words and volatile reactions. The source this time had been a surprise of course, having considered the woman in question an equal, but even with all Fiona's experience, all the knowledge garnered from her various jobs, of which there were many, she still hadn't been prepared for the hostility and stunning accusations that had come.

So swift had that antagonism surfaced, Fiona hadn't actually managed to complete the exchange she had set out to do. She hadn't been allowed even the courtesy of explaining her concerns and what had set her fury to a smoldering flame had been the careless disregard of Tara's feelings. In Fiona's mind, Tara had been cast adrift by the woman in favor of the real culprit in a crime of thoughtless manipulations. Fiona had never had much tolerance for any that sought harm or pain to those she loved and Tara was one such individual.

Leather encased fingers moved, taking up the faintly glowing orb she had collected from the inn, but a short time before and regarded it. Her features normally guarded within more public venues wore a dark scowl. Insults of this nature were not unusual, but she saw little reason to withhold it from Belial or her husband. For her earlier rage had likely alerted them already that something was amiss.

In a swirling of shadows now touched by the first rays of dawn's light, she faded away into the dark mists. Only to emerge a few moments later within the Hall of Onyx . Even though the hour was early, those she sought stirred and she could sense them within the impressive walls of the manor house.

Within moments of her arrival she saw her husband coming down the hall. From the expression upon his chiseled and honed features he was well aware that she was still battling the fury. "Mornin' to ye M'Love." Contained and controlled, none of her emotions leaked through the softly spoken words. "Be Belial about? I have something that ye both may have an interest in reviewing." The orb resting within the palm of a gloved hand while she gazed at him with ice glittering in agitation within her pale green eyes.

"Aye, I believe she is in her office." Frowning as he did sense her present mood, Lucius wordlessly stepped to the side, allowing Fiona to sweep past him, gliding off towards Belial's office he fell easily into stride beside her.

Pausing before a solid oak door, a hand lifted, offering a sharp rap of knuckles upon it and awaited Belial's response. Muffled as it was, she caught the soft "Come" and quietly entered with a faint smile offered to her Aunt. "Mornin' to ye Bel. I be sorry to interrupt ye so early, but there be something I think ye have need of seeing." With just those words the orb was offered outwards from a splayed palm to the now curious Belial.

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Gharnholme / Season In the Making
« on: February 11, 2007, 12:24:12 AM »
[size=14]The manor house wasn?t one of those confiscated. It had been abandoned. It had survived years upon years of neglect, but it had still been stately. With it?s Gray stone rising up amidst the over grown trees of the forest that surrounded it.  The family that had owned it had long passed into Cisroe history and the old castle had fallen to ruin, until discovered by Myrialla and Fiona.

Neither had wanted the Urevan manor, the place holding the old energies of its previous owner and none comfortable. Instead that had been converted into a public hall with offices for the Captain of the guards, councilmen and judges, with one wing transformed into barracks to house the town guards and visiting troops. It was better suited due to its location for such a new station after all.

Instead, the ladies had begun a renovation of the old structure. At one time it had been a castle. That was apparent. For it was located in a rather strategic location. Set high on a hill above the town with sheer walls lining the road up towards it. In the recovery an old moat had been discovered, covered over with dirt from ages past.

Painstaking landscaping was created, the moat returned and allowing a few well-placed waterfalls to cascade from its high location. The road, overgrown and rutted was repaved; the building brought back to life under the hands of those that took pride in their craft.

80 acres of well defendable land was cleared and restored. Gardens brought back to life under the guidance of Myrialla. Even the crystal clear lake, was refurbished with the underground spring once more refreshing it?s shimmer.

From the dungeons and labyrinth below to the barracks and even the attic spaces had not been spared in this refurbishing. What had made it even more unique and appealing was the design of the old structure. Curious as it was, the wings of the old castle spread out into an eight-pointed star. One wing dedicated to the housing of Lucius?s military leaders, and their various offices including the lords. Another set of halls set aside for the servants. Any guests would be assigned to one that held nearly a dozen well appointed rooms.

Family such as Fiona?s brother and mother would have a wing of their own, with extra rooms for closer friends to also rest. Daniel, Cieara, Kaely and Tasha had their own wing as well. One that actually had a door that led down towards the stables. Each had its purpose for another was turned into a training area and another into the slave quarters.

Another wing, facing out over the gardens with a view of the lake and the shadow of the mountains beyond it was where Fiona and Luc?s rooms were located, with Myri?s own suite at the other end. Only one wing remained, but for now it would serve well as extra storage. It nearly rivaled Gharnholm in size with all the underground chambers, but was not nearly as unique in design.

It had cost a small fortune to return the old tumble back to its former glory but Fiona gladly paid it. It was close enough to town and still isolated to some degree. Easily defended against any that might seek harm to her family as well. Of course one of the first things done once the work was under way was to lay down the wards. The stone set within the vast gardens and looking more like a decoration then what it truly was.

Keeping to the theme, the rooms were decorated to match the time frame for when it was built. Of course with many of the more modern amenities including running water fed by the hot springs located below. The old coat of arms had been lost but a new one took its place upon the old gates and above the arches leading over the bridge. The DeAuster crest now resided there.

The old throne room had been transformed into a ballroom for it was certainly large enough. Even now the newly hired servants scurried about, preparing for the coming event. The mosaic floors made of marble and shimmering stone now gleamed with polish and care. The walls of pale oak waxed and warm. The old dais remained but now new chairs replaced the old. Comfortable and elegant in style, and large enough to suit even Luc?s heavier frame.

By most social standards it was a small estate, but at one time, it had been the defender of the region. A past that made its rebirth a symbol to the town it loomed over. Its old name was Coldmoor Castle. The new name would be something else. Something befitting it?s new owners. Welcome to Shadow Falls Manor.
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Gharnholme / The setting of Carowyn
« on: August 14, 2006, 02:20:58 PM »
[size=14]Notes on "A World of Chaos and Shadows":

The following folder contains threads that span several years of play that continues even now with a variety of methods used. From E-mail to PR and IM play to the ever constant exchanging of a word document when it would no longer fit in mail. There are several players involved in its creation, and permissions for posting have been granted by each and every one of them.

To those reading it, be aware this is still much a work in progress, so one never knows what may turn up down the line. From what I understand, there are also several stories that have sprung up as offshoots to these. From the battles, to other families that have become involved and may likely show up on this board.  

Another thing to make note of, the world of Carowyn was created by the Gharnholme players,(of which there are many)Albaelia's, DeCort's and even a Malign family member as well. This was not taken from a book or any other form of media, but sprang to life by several months of design and careful plotting so it could be used for writing purposes without infringing upon anyone's creation or ideals, with the exception of our own. Many details are in place, but as we determined it to be a large place, much remains a mystery to even those of us that were instrumental in its design.

It had started out as character introductions (There are a few involved) and to the surprise of all of us, it's taken on a life of it's own but for myself it is something I have enjoyed taking part in and reading.  
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Gharnholme / Days of the Past
« on: August 13, 2006, 10:50:59 PM »
As found within the historical vaults located deep within the Keep of Gharnholme, dated some 100 years before present day:


[size=14]Meeting him again face to face had been a shock to say the least. She had hidden it well, behind the cold reserved mask that was her normal expression, but the inner turmoil was still felt and controlled with an iron fist. If he even remembered, she couldn't even tell, with his features hidden behind that scarf and the cold glowing red eyes didn't offer much in the way of recognition.

"Ah, Lord DeAuster, please meet my Head Tarn. Fiona DeWil." Lord Brutin said lazily with a casual wave of his hand. The dark haired man was in his usual place within the Slaver's Association Hall, and holding court as she often thought in her mind. Sprawled out in that casually elegant way of his that many woman were drawn into, much like a beautiful web and he the large exotic spider just waiting to leap and capture.

There was an exchange of short nods and little more and she was moving away, feeling the clammy sensation of skin under the leather of her gloves. To look at her, none would even know she was shaken up. Indeed, she maintained her chilly demeanor with amazing skill.

Taking up her position behind Brutin, as was her normal mode of behavior, she fell to stony silence, often becoming part of the furniture, while around her conversation flowed. Brutin didn't expect her to speak, as it simply wasn't something she bothered with, but her ice green eyes kept a constant vigil. Shifting about and taking in locations of various individuals, except this day, she found her gaze drawn like a magnet to him. She had heard the rumors of course. The stories of the Death Knight even reaching the distant realms of Zymire and she even knew that his marriage had been pre-maturely aborted. In a way it was rather a curious form of Karma returning, at least she had comforted herself at such a frivolous thoughts

Fact of it was, when she had caught word of his death, she had actually grieved, to the point even her father had noticed, but to this day didn't understand why. She had never spoken about the only lover she had ever had. Her private life was as carefully guarded as her emotions now and few knew much including those closest to her.

That brief fling so long ago had taught her a very valuable lesson, one she had taken with great attention and had not allowed anyone else even close enough since. Every one that had tried had been held at a pointed distance and the more insistent felt the sharp end of her dagger. She had given of her body and her heart only once and been played the fool, and has sworn to never allow herself to be duped from that day when he had told her it was over and the heart ripping reasons why.

A moment and their eyes clashed again, hers frosty as a winter morning and his narrowing behind the dark cloth covering much of gray features. She still could sense any emotion behind the stare, just felt the waves of chill washing from him. She had a moment to mourn the loss of beautiful dove gray eyes but quickly squelched it before turning away with a thinning of rose pale lips and a snaking slide of a single thick black braid.

Already, feelings she had long thought dust were stirring up and she wasn't amused by it. Caught staring was one sign she was slipping and she sought to get a hold of herself. At her side the dagger hissed softly, calling a hand to stroke lightly against the black hilt and she mentally stilled its complaint. Garith was picking up on her mood and responding in his normal way.

Memories she sought to bury started to break free, floating up on the surface of her mind like bubbles from a deep, dark lake. It angered her, so she caught back a low growl only to hear the words she sorely dreaded. "DeAuster there will be with working with you Fiona." Her employer informed her and she found her jaw aching with sudden and bone jarring tension. Her eyes narrowed for only a microsecond before she gave a short nod to Brutin. To say anything at this point would only create questions she simply wouldn't answer. The man was already curious enough without adding more reasons for him to dig and prod.

He had changed quite drastically. The vitality he once displayed, with the almost pure light that both drew and repulsed her was now gone. Leaving in its wake a chilling aura. He was no longer of the living and yet he still walked, carried onwards by some unknown force she didn't recognize. What motivated him now was a guess, but she suspected it might very well be hate. Yet while much of the man she knew was gone, she could sense that a vast amount remained, hidden behind the mask of ruin.

Her "New" partner just stood near the door with his arms folded and said not a single word. As silent as a tomb he was and she couldn't sense a damn thing from him, which was galling for one of her nature. Brutin of course was emitting his delight in heavy waves, having managed some sort of coup getting the Death Knight into his employ but for her, a job she was generously paid to do had just become her own personal nightmare.

Thankfully it was one of the slower nights, with just others of the Association dropping by to touch base with the "Big Man". None of the typical heroes seeking to save some gibbering featherheads from they're enslavement, or any of this competition strolling in to make trouble and banter. In some ways she resented that, for it would have been something to take her mind of the thoughts she really didn't wish to brood upon and on the other hand, all she wanted to do was escape his presence.

Over the course of that evening, she heard from the rasping hollow voice he now had, as he spoke with Brutin that he was also a slave owner and could only think with wry irony just how low the pious do fall, and yet even that gave her a twinge of conscious. Knowing that somehow some way, she might be responsible for what had befallen him.

Forcefully shifting her thoughts away from such paths she was soon thinking it curious. She had worked as an assassin and still did on rare occasions, taking the odd job here and there. She had been an enforcer for one family here, and then another, and had even worked under the directions of a few Kindred clans. She was for the most part, comfortably well off, no longer needing to hold a job for support, but did so by choice. Something to keep her busy and her skills well honed. She held high rank with two guilds and stood in battle for them even now and was allowing one haunt from her past shake her usual serene calm. Had she met him again in all her previous jobs she may not be as surprised as she was now. Of all places to again meet, the Slavers hall wasn't one she ever would have imagined.

Thoughts drew a faintly satirical smile on her soft lips briefly as she waited the time until Brutin would turn in and managed reasonably well to control the direction of her thoughts. She refused to allow them to dip into the waters of the passionate couplings they had shared, but kept them more to the innocuous. She barely spoke and just remained as still as Lucius was in her position behind Lord Brutin. Thinking the night was wearing on much slower, or perhaps it was the tension weighing upon her that just made it seem endlessly long and tiring.

Emotions she had hoped were gone from her, having spent years of time binding them down were all suddenly alive and pushing at her mental restraints and she was feeling some resentment over that. This one man whose mere presence was rattling the foundation of all her training, was simply unacceptable, but she could not even let on the effects, for to do so, would show a weakness. A crack in the ice she encased herself with and this she simply could not allow to be seen.
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