Bladewalkertrade aka KiernanPsyChoSeMaTi...'s blog: "Lair Of the Grey Witch"

Kiernan's ears tingled with the sound of that howl- she knew only bad could come of whatever Kalig was up to. Her thoughts ran to Jherik, whom she had met only once during his interrogation, but had moved her senses to scream he was innocent. No one listened to her- all the evidence was there, him standing over the body stealing his chi, the weapon in his hand. When she had questioned him, he was cool, calculating- his answers concise and never wavering, even when Grimaldi Called the truth out of him. Yet Aroc could twist the truth even when subjected to a Calling, and his answers were a little vague as if he were trying to hide something. Still, Kiernan felt he was no murderer- his chi was dark, for sure, full of mischief and mystery, but not leaning toward outright brutality without valid reason. Even so, there was something she just could not peg about the man. "Hey, Kier!" A man with dark hair and beard trotted toward her, dressed in the uniform of one of the Coven's lieutennants. What was Test doing away from his post? Kiernan frowned as he got nearer, noticing the heavy presence of Guard the closer she got to the Keep. "The Aroc." Test stopped in front of her, burly chest heaving in the humid air. "He's escaped- and Grimaldi has lost his mind." The werdna! The vision of Jherik's body being torn to pieces flashed into Kiernan's head with a stabbing pain to her temple. After that, a vision of fire- more like a living, breathing inferno- engulfing the Coven Keep. "We gotta find him," she gasped. Test had taken her arm in support, knowing all too well the intensity of some of her visions. "This does not bode good for either of them." "WE?" Test stepped back, but made sure she could stand before he released her arm. "Uh-uh, Kier- I am not involving myself in one of your personal crusades again. I'm still reeling from what happened last time!" She chuckled: her last scheme was to convince her blood-brother that he was good enough for any woman in the keep, up to and including one of the priestesses of Bastet. In two months they were married. Another vision came just then- more intense this time- of fire, burning. No! PEOPLE burning at the stake, being torn apart by werdna in what looked to be the arena, with Grimaldi standing in the center of it all, laughing sadistically. "What, Kier?" Test was at her side again, smoothing her hair back from her sweating brow. "Tell me." "We must find him, Brother." Kiernan's eyes rolled in the back of her head as she slumped against him. "We must find him before Grimaldi or all is lost." Test supported her back to her cottage, laying her down on her bed just before she finally passed out, sitting with her and weighing the consequences of the descision to be made. ************************************************* Jherik fell to his knees after the whirlwind deposited him in the Darken Forest, the only place he knew he'd be safe for at least a little while as he plotted his next move. Powerful as he was, transportation still took a lot out of him- most Coven and Aroc alike used it sparingly and only in extreme circumstances- so he leaned against the trunk of a tree, soaking up the Dark chi around him. He needed to regain some strength, as he had still to warn his family of Grimaldi's treachery. Most Coven could not bear the touch of so much Dark chi, having given themselves over to the service of Light. Whereas Coven shunned the forest for the sickly feeling of the Dark crawling like insects over their skin, Jherik reveled in the way it completely enveloped him, shrouding him, comforting him. Yet he knew his limits- too much absorption could temporarily turn him into a jibbering idiot or a ravenous beast, so he closed of his chakra points and sat peacefully listening to the owls as the chi tugged and pulled at his psyche, wanting more of him. And he dreamed......

Jherik suddenly heard the locks to his cell door click open and raised his head to see Grimaldi walk in, flanked by two guardsmen. The look on Grimaldi's face was that of arrogant satisfaction as Jherik stood glaring at the man responsible for his imprisonment. "I trust you find your accomodations...." Grimaldi waved his hand around the room with a flourish,"....acceptable?" Jherik smirked. "The wards are exquisite, Grimaldi- shows how much you really fear me." "Fear?" Grimaldi snorted, eyes turned to stone. "No, foolish child, but contempt? Oh, yes, there is a lot of that. Speaking of children, you should know that your mother should be on her way here- I trust she will be happy to see her only child?" Jherik's expression turned from confusion to fear. "What? Why?" "Oh, did you forget?" Grimaldi sneered, eyes glittering with manic glee. "According to Coven Law, the family of those accused of treason or murder of an official are also brought in for questioning under suspicion of conspiracy." "Grimaldi, I warn you...." Jherik's voice nearly shook with barely-contained rage. "You? Warning me?" Grimaldi chuckled, shaking his head. "My wards will hold, boy, do not test them." "The only reason I haven't ripped those rags to shreds is that I knew if I were to escape, you'd go after my family," Jherik snarled. "Now I see it doesn't matter- so again, Grimaldi, leave them out of this! Do with me what you will, but harm my mother and I will bring this whole Coven down around you!" Yet the intensity in Jherik's tawny eyes did not dissuade Grimaldi from his mocking. He moved toward Jherik, baring his teeth, and got nose-to-nose with him. "What can you do, filthy Aroc?" Jherik stepped back and, in a simple gesture, brought down the wards like swiping away spider silk, Grimaldi rocking back on his heels as he felt the full force of Jherik's chi. What is he? Grimaldi thought as he Called his power to bind Jherik's, but the strands of Essence were too tangled, too fluid to be contained. They began swirling around the room in an eerie dance, the guards watching the silver strands, mezmerized. Grimaldi tried once again to contain them, but to no avail- instead he tried more direct attacks on Jherik's person, but even Grimaldi's strong psi attacks were brushed aside like they were nothing. "The Essence provides all, Grimaldi." Jherik was radiating power- his tawny eyes glowing gold, dark hair flowing, tangled with Essence as he stood in the center of the room. "The Essence protects all. Can you say the same about your gods?" Before Grimaldi could respond, he was blinded by a flash of light and when the spots cleared, Jherik was gone. He roared like an enraged lion, pulling one of the guards out of his trance by his collar. "I want the werdna dispatched immediately! Find that Aroc- hunt him down like the dog he is!" "But Sir, the werdna?" one guard asked, face white. Grimaldi got nose-to-nose with him. "Question me and you'll be their next snack!" The guard nodded and motioned for his comrade to join him, leaving Grimaldi to spout curses to the sky. ************************************************* The werdna pit smelled like wet fur and rotted flesh, but Kalig, the Werdna-keeper, liked it that way. He never them got out much since the ban on using werdna to hunt fugitives was put in place years back, but there were a few around who appreciated the beasts and would hire them out for "fun." Officially he was a "designated preserver of rare species," but everyone knew what he provided- easy entertainment for the wealthy and the occassional round up of dissenters. Before he entered the pit, his favorite, Roz, came bounding out to meet him. She was an ugly beast- jaws and head of a hyena, lean, feline body mostly covered with irridescent black scales save for a raised tuft of silver down the spine, stopping at a long, rat-like tail. Her ears were abnormally large for her head and equally tuftted with silver, her feet were padded and clawed like a tigers. She rattled her scales in greeting, then proceeded to gnaw at Kalig's thick-gloved hand. "Yes, girl, I know you're hungry." Kalig- looking not unlike a beast himself with his bulky frame, bald head, and full dark beard. The skin not covered by the thick leather gloves, tunic, and breeches was scarred and ruddy. Werdna do not know their own strength so protection is necessary even in play, as Kalig did when the rest of the pack, six in all, came running out to join him. All were the same description and color save for Roz, the only silver-hair, but Kalig knew them all by name: Roz- the silver Alpha female, Miko- the one with the stubby nose, Viral- the large Alpha male, Jazz- the little scrapper, Kane- the warrior, and Trixie, the petite little female that was always itchnig for a fight. "Ahem?" Kalig pried his gloved hand out of Roz's mouth, looking up to see one of Grimaldi's soldiers standing outside the pit. Brave one, this- not many have the balls to go within spitting distance of a a werdna pit little own come to this close proximity. "Yes, Sir?" Kalig dusted himself off and motioned for the pack to go inside the pit. Viral turned and growled at the guard before going down, and Kalig thought for a moment the guard shit himself. "The werdna are needed," the guard said shortly, wanting to spend the least time there as possible among those beasts. "Is Grimaldi gonna pay straight this time?" Kalig growled, himself as imposing as any werdna. The guard sighed and handed over a sack that jingled with coin. Kalig untied it, pulled out a gold piece and bit down. "Tastes real at least. When?" "Now." Kalig frowned at the guard. "They haven't eaten." "All the better to track an Aroc." Kalig smiled in understanding: Aroc were hard to track even for werdna since they had become so part of the earth itself they even smelled like it, but if werdna were hungry, their senses were hieghtened to the point they could sense the abnormal concentrations of Essence Aroc were known for controlling when cloaking themselves. "You witches say Essence doesn't exsist," Kalig sneered. "How do you explain, then how the werdna can smell it?" The guard rolled his eyes. "You've been paid, now get on with it." Kalig gave him a toothy grin before turning back to the pit. "Come now, children, we hunt Aroc tonight!" The guard shuddered as a sound like bainsidhe wailing came from the pit, suddenly feeling sorry for the Aroc who'd dared to incur Grimaldi's wrath.

The Aroc are a Pagan tradition held outside the Coven structure- one that believes not in spirits or the movements of stars, or that they have any direct influence on their lives. Though most Aroc recognize the existance of a Higher Power, they do not worship the Essence [as they call it] as a god or goddess. Rather, the Essence is simply the Source of All Things and they believe one must return to Essence to reach their full potiential. Few have done so and survived- most who did were mentally damaged. They beleve that all are born with power and all are responsible for cultivating that power within themselves through study and continuous practice rather than constraining ritual and supplication. As a result it is the Aroc belief that one makes their own destiny- no god or spirit or moon- and it is only their conscience they have to answer to when something goes amiss. Aroc conjure by manipulating the Essence, seen as strands of power lacing through and over every living object and element like a spider's webbing that they Weave into Pattern through subtle gestures, drawing or writing, or singing. When one of their number dying, a lover, friend, or relative is chosen to draw all chi into themselves before the final moment, thereby gaining that person's wisdom and talents [including languages and mundane skills]. This ritual is ended by the chosen receptor intoning "For each that goes below," with the gathered mourners replying "One stays above." The Covens shun the Aroc, calling them "arrogant, godless fools" for not recognizing the importance of devotion and worship in their magicks, for having no qualms about using their power to their own ends [even though the Aroc are very generous with their aide]. Therefore there has always been conflict. Though the Aroc do not worship gods per se, they are almost obsessed with myths and legends and regard them as rallying points in their pursuits. So introduces the Aroc to the tale......

Kiernan walked into her cottage just on the outskirts of town to find Boch propped up on her couch, frowning. "Hey, babe, wha-" Boch was seething- Kiernan had never seen this side of him before. "Kiernan, I told you not to interfere. Yet you went behind my back and opposed the Council anyway!" "Well, I wasn't going to sit there and have their desire for a speedy outcome put a man in prison just they can go have Ritual!" Kiernan snarled. Boch leaped up off the couch, taking Kiernan by the arm. "And I will not tolerate disobedience!" Kiernan shrugged away from his hold. "Disobedience? Last I checked, Boch, I am not on a leash! Now get out of my house!" Boch looked at her in wonder- she had never ordered him out of her house, her bed, or anywhere away from her. "Might not see me for a while- you know I leave early for Shadek." "Go!" Hissing, Boch turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. Kiernan sat down and let the breath out of her in one sigh, a single tear rolling down her cheek. What was wrong with Boch? Lately he had been more possessive- ever since she'd been looking into Jherik's case- and it was wearing on her nerves. She needed to be free to do her digging without question, without restrictions. No one had a right to chain her as he had tried to do, but no more. It was done.

It was an honor to be attacked so directly, so viciously- that let Kiernan know she had wounded the beast, that the enemy feared her. She watched with a smirk as the vote was read, the faces of the Council of Thirteen arrogant with their triumph. "You retain your place in the Coven, but you are no longer member of the Council." Jordan Grimaldi, Council Leader could barely contain his satisfaction, green eyes flashing. Kiernan's grin merely broadened as she met Jordan's eyes. "You people might not like the fact, but I have been member of this Council for longer than any of you- including you Grimaldi." Jordan's eyes hardened and Kiernan could feel his anger coming off him in waves, which made her smile even bigger. "So, this only confirms my suspicions." Kiernan rose to leave, meeting each member's eyes one by one, before once again resting on Jordan's. "That you are all self-righteous, arrogant, ignorant fools who cannot accept it when you are called out on your stupidity!" "Descisions of the Council should not be questioned!" one woman exclaimed. "Perhaps the NEED to be!" Kiernan snarled, eyes never leaving Jordan's. "And make us look like fools in the eyes of the Evangelists?" a man in his forties stood up angrily. "You would give them more ammunition?" "Better to look like a fool that condemn an innocent man!" Unable to contain her rage any longer, she hurled her goblet across the room. "What is WRONG with you people? This State was founded on the fact that people were no longer willing to blindly follow the Evangelist hiearchy and here you are, willing to persecute a man because he is not of the Wiccan majority! I'd expect that from the Evangelists, not my own Coven!" Kiernan turned on her heel and walked brusquely to the door, tossing her brooch behind her to land it in Jordan's goblet with a splash. Jherik sat in his cell- which was really a small room with a table, chair, cot, and wash area- head resting on the table, bored to tears. He was allowed no books, paper, pen or even proper eating untensils for fear he'd prick himself and use his blood to conjure an escape. He found eating beef with a spoon was an activity in itself. Sighing, he closed his eyes and began to hum an ancient, dark tune that his uncle had taught him in his deep, melodious voice. As the air around him vibrated with power, the wards all around the walls began to shimmer silver and gold. What these fools did not realize is that, if Jherik Bloeumendaa wanted to out, those wards were like so much gossamer to the power he commanded. But no, he would not live as an escaped convict when he had nothing wrong: he would find a way to clear his name no matter what he had to do.

"She's beautiful, but her figure....." Kiernan smiled as she shook her head. She was used to such comments while she was walking the marketplace- well, striding would be a more appropriate term. She had a noble air about her despite her humble parentage, made even more so by the way she held her head high, black boots almost floating over the dirt, blood red hair flowing behind her. She knew some despised her for daring to carry herself like high-born lady, that she would dream of dressing to accentuate her curves by wearing black denims and tank top rather than hiding them under baggy homespuns and tunics. "Why doesn't she hide that flab?" they would sneer. "That's disgusting!" But she would just smile sweetly as if she'd never heard the whispers. Then charge double the price when they needed something- anything. For no matter how they would talk and jeer about her behind her back, these fools needed her expertise. An Intelligence Broker was always in demanded, especially one as good as Kiernan. Though she had been accepted into Coven Celtasia as a Solitary, some hated her there- hated her mixed blood- but they knew they couldn't survive without her. So, she got used to the comments, ignoring the periodic sting as some went too far for too long. Usually those brave enough to utter something particularly insulting found out what the back of a fist looked like. Yet- tough as she was on the outside, she was still a wounded child on the inside, wondering why she was such a bad person simply for being different. It was those times her paranoia was at its worst, that she felt no one loved her, no one cared: she was simply a tool to use over and over until she was rusted and weathered, then tossed aside like so much rubbish. She knew that all the chaos that assaulted her brain wasn't true, though. She knew of at least one who held her down when she raged, was not fearful or disgusted with her manic episodes, that accepted her "flab" and all. For him she was most thankful to whichever of her Goddesses that saw fit to bestow his heart in her hand. Kiernan could not imagine herself without Boche, knew that she could not mentally survive without his power and love keeping her afloat. For this alone she loved him, for this alone she would be his forever.

Chills went up my spine as I felt the familiar presence of my lover Boch by my side, striding along like the alpha male he was, linking his fingers with mine. "Should've tortched him." The chagrin in his deep voice caused me to snicker. "Not worth wasting chi on, my love." I looked with pleasure at his tall, lithe form, his long ebony hair tipped with crimson, looking like a cloak as it flowed down his back, his hazel eyes glittering in the sun. I always marvelled at his long eyelashes, the way his bow-shaped lips looked so perfect for kissing. As if reading my mind, he pulled me into an alleyway and consumed my lips and tongue. I reached under his black silk tunic to run my fingers down his spine, returning the kiss just as passionately. "Boch," I breathed against his lips, "I'm going to be late." "And?" He licked my lips playfully. I shuddered and sighed- damn his affect on me! "The Coven is expecting my report." "Tell them you got attacked by a rogue Shadowpriest." I pinched his shoulder and giggled. Well, I wouldn't be lying.... Shadowpriest: male or female witch specializing in the things people need done when they want to keep their hands clean of the deed. These individuals are intergrated into the covens that use their services as Solitaries [those who are members of a Coven on the books, but prefer to do most rituals in private] to assure their anonymity. Best place to hide something is in plain sight- no one would ever admit to being a member of a Coven that accepted a Shadowpriest, as their methods and brutality is often too controversial for even the most liberal of Covens. At any case, Shadowpriests have different physical and psychological demeanors in the public eye than when Working, therefore making them virtually unrecognizable when "on the job." Boch as he is right now is serene as a Michaelangelo angel, albeit exuding raw sensuality. His other side is more dark, more intimidating: hair turns completely red, eyes shift to an emerald green and a slight ridge forms above his brow, making him look like a lupine in heat. He was still licking my neck as I pushed him off me, nipping his nose. "I've got to go!" He smiled, showing his sharp canines as he stroked my cheek. "Okay- have fun Duckling." I blew a kiss as I walked away, butterflies gathering around me. I mean, I'm not some prissy girlie-girl by any means, but somehow that man brings out my poofy side...

Walking in the square, my silken hood sheilding my eyes from the midday sun, I smiled and shook my head as I passed an Evangelist on his proverbial soapbox, preaching to the usual bigoted rabble. "- and these abominations have convinced our government that they are the saviors of this planet- that they alone channel the power of Spirit needed to heal the planet of our destruction. So the planet ignores the will of God and filth like that one walk about like they own the place!" I halted in my tracks, unable to resist the temptation. "Maybe that's because I do." I turned and let the hood fall from my red-gold hair, midnight-blue eyes flashing in satisfaction as I saw the Evangelist's face turn white. The emblem on my brooch matched the emblem on several buildings surrounding the square- a cat's eye set inside the loop of an ankh, itself set inside a pentacle- the whole crest set in silver upon black onyx, the cat's eye a bright red garnet. It was obvious he realized his blunder when his chest began to heave nervously. As Kiernan Maeloryn Bladewalker of the Celtasia Coven [or Coven Grey as we were also known], I had stock in several of the companies in Harkstyn Square, yet I never flaunted the matter. Actually, I have found the lack of my interest in hob-nobbing with the general public has an interesting affect on my reputation- which is currently as dangerous when crossed and generous to those who respect me. They're partially right. And though I wasn't going to drain the Evangelist of his chi and leave him a vegetable like so many of the onlookers thought I'd do, the thought did cross my mind. Nope, the look on their faces and the knowledge the he had just shit himself was satisfaction enough. I just nodded graciously, turned on my heel and stode off to the tavern. "Blessed Be to you all, my Children."

Six senses filled with dragonfire swelled with the approaching storm, red-gold hair flowing around her like a fountain of flame, her skirts whipping about her ankles. "Lightning, I fear you no more- do your worst!" she growled to the blackening clouds. In response, a forked bolt issued from the sky and in a crack of thunder, the rain came in heavy sheets. Kiernan threw her head back, laughing heartily as electricity coursed through her hair and around her fingers in hissing tendrils. Others had tried to cage what was in side her only to have it rattle the bars until they shattered like glass, stinging her captors with the shards. Soon all had learned to let the dark fey come out and play lest its pent-up fury destroy everything around it. Even now she knew they watched- some in fear, some in fascination- as lightning bolts crackled between her fingertips and she took pleasure in their awe, disdain, envy, and intimidation. She took sadiatic satisfaction in the fact that- no matter the niceties they afforded her in person- behind closed doors they silently cursed her, discussed ways of ridding themselves of her, but knew they could not do without her. For no matter the dark side of Lillith, there was still the side that came to their defense, provided where there was need, and filled the hearth with song. It was this side she wished they could focus on, but lightning is more dramatic than flowers, wolves more powerful than butterflies, and thunder more stirring than birdsong. "Why you different? Why you that way? If you don't get in line, they'll lock you away."

A dozen women you might find But none like me A dozen hearts you might bind But none like mine I am the wolf in the fold My name is written in tomes of old I am the shadow across your wall I am the chill beneath your shawl I am the myth you want to believe I am the spectre that will never leave I am the reason you fear the dark I am the arrow that hits its mark I am faclcon feasting in the tree I am the wail of the bainsidhe I am the tingling in your blood I am the unforgiving flood So court me if you will If you think you are deserving But take care not to betray me Else your head on a platter I'll be serving