Lord of Roseotter

[(((Rush))) Hilary B.]

List- Captain under Lord Ceden, commands a small band of nine warriors. Becomes Duke of Roseotter
Dirang- Duke of Roseotter, masquerades as a Nefelhiem but is really a Winged Demon
Morgan-Warrior of the Helm fighting for Roseotter, helps List gain control of Roseotter, coat-of-arms is a bobcat, Nefelhiem
Ceden the Rouge-Lord of Rougesdom, Nayi
Poet of Lore-One of List’s warriors, poet, prophet, and advisor
Tho-messenger of Roseotter, becomes List’s guide
Raccor- List’s second in command
Horn- List’s herald
Arrflight-List’s squire
Rokdias-List’s champion
Skytower-Poet’s apprentice
Hapalein-Horn’s squire
Sisent-Raccor’s squire
Torrccaron-Chaw’s squire
Qunic-Lord of the Helm, Nayi
Soren-Lady of the Helm, Host
Leros-One of Morgan’s Chosen, herald and messenger, Eyal
Kindling-Captain of the Sea Hoof, Morgan’s second in command
Banderlof and Hane-Two of Morgan’s Chosen, Warr-Tarr
Chaw, Abrasiho, Sheen, and Giihaine-List’s warriors
Heather-Warrior of the Helm fighting for Roseotter, coat-of-arms is an albatross, Nefelhiem
Eavon-Warrior of the Helm fighting for Roseotter, coat-of-arms is a griffin
Winged- six races of half-bird, half-common race warriors
Nefelhiem-Winged race, distinguished by a circle on their right wing
Eyal-one of the common races, forest dwellers
Warr-Tarr-one of the common races, stronger and taller than most others
Goblin-one of the common races, mountain dwellers







Tensions on this world are growing stronger. The land called Ikey is rebelling against its twin rulers, the cites of the Helm and Sarvoc’s Hold. But my eyes are drawn away from the troubles of the Helm, my city.
Across the seas, the Rouge is slowly conquering the entire land of Barravon. His only rival, Lissyn the good king of Roseotter, has dissapered. A Winged-Demon commanded by the Helm’s enemies has taken over Roseotter’s rule. My Lord, Qunic, sends me to Barravon, there I and my Chosen will try to bring the Demon down and reassert the land’s true balance of power. If only List, Lissyn’s son and heir, could be found… then maybe the Rouge could be driven back.








List watched the sun’s fiery orb rise above the trees before shouldering his shield. Around him a small group was stirring, cooking what food was left and breaking down tents. List’s squire, Arrflight, wandered over carrying a saddle,”Good marrow, Master, how be yer day as far?” he asked,
“Well enough, looking at food stores, Arrflight,” List answered as he looked back down at the confusing tangle of knots he’d been working on. Arrflight nodded his head respectfully and walked away.
List sighed, thinking the knotted bridles were much simpler than the mess he was riding home to. The group of nine warriors, three squires, and sixteen horses had been on the road close to four months. They were all that was left of a raiding party sent to a city called Rallis. The party had numbered greater than 400, more than enough for a surprise raid. But Rallis wasn’t the one surprised, List and his men had been ambushed twenty leagues from the city. Four hundred men either killed or captured, only those closest to him were left alive… but the thing that puzzled List the most were the arms his attackers bore; an otter holding a spear and three roses… somehow familiar.
List shook his head; he’d never seen arms like that. He ran his fingers over the design on his own shield, tracing the lines of a money bag and mattock. Roguesdom, city of Lord Ceden the Rogue, a haven for thieves, murderers, and outcasts of every race. Bane of the honest and the very worst place for the rich. The place List and his men called home.
“Wish I knew who attacked us, and what their city is called,” List looked up to see a warrior the men called Poet of Lore watching him. Poet spoke again
“Camps down. Riding out?’
“Yes” List answered, then said,
“You wish you knew who attacked us, I want somewhere else to go than Roguesdom, Lord Ceden may not be quick to punish, but he doesn’t like being failed or losing men” Poet hesitated a moment before saying
“You’re right, this small lot should…” before he could finish a sentry called out
“Warrior approchin’, carries a spear. And may the Awne forsake me eyes! He’s wearing that otter fer arms!” List grabbed his sword and led his men to the sentry.
The warrior was alone; a quick sweep of the surrounding woods assured that. List watched him come closer; he was young, about the same age as Arrflight. He also wore little armor, a clear mark of a messenger. The newcomer leaned his spear against a tree before trying to approach List. Horn and Raccor, two of the men, moved to block him so he stopped and waited. List looked him over for a moment before saying “Lower your weapons, let em’ through,”
“I am Tho. Messenger to Dirang, Duke of Roseotter” the warrior said.
“And what does the Duke of Our Attackers want with me?” List asked, holding his sword at an angle between himself and Tho.
“For you to be taken before him, not as enemies, as you seem to think, but as guests to our city,” Tho answered, he did not seem to mind List’s sword. List turned to look at his warriors, they were tired and hungry. Some had suffered injuries; they needed a rest and somewhere safe to take one.
“We’ll come,” List decided and the men looked surprised.
“If they wanted to kill us, they would have done it already. If we are to die later on, I think we would like to be fed and rested. Now form ranks!” List ordered his men, forgetting how few his numbers were.
Shortly afterward, the straggling column moved off with Tho at the head. List relaxed, he felt he could trust Tho. Besides, dying in a good fight was better than being humiliated at Lord Ceden’s hands
List slowly came to realize people were moving through the trees around them. They were peasants and a few wandering guards, nothing threatening. They dismounted at the gates of Roseotter and the horses were lead away.
The people of the city were packed inside the gates, everyone was clamoring to get a look at the newcomers. Luckily it did not last long, the remaining warriors of Roguesdom found themselves inside a rich palace. At the end of a long, pillared hall was a huge throne carved of marble and at its base was… List fell to his knees at the sight before him; a tall figure stood on the last step of the throne. He was dark haired and dark skinned; he was clad in silver mail covered by fine silk. At his side lay an ornate spear and shield, his arms were three weasels running on an ivory background. But it was not these symbols of wealth that held List’s attention. It was the figure’s shoulders: wings. This tall warrior, the Duke of Roseotter, was one of the Winged, the great and legendary beings who were sometimes immortal and always powerful.
“Do not kneel before me List of Roguesdom. I am not the lord here. But if you were to formally offer me your throne before a court, I would not refuse” Dirang said and smiled.
List rose to his feet, already he did not like nor trust the Duke.
He asked “Throne?”
“You haven’t figured this out yet? Haven’t you noticed that your every wish has been granted by the warriors of Roseotter? You wanted somewhere to shelter from the wrath of Ceden, your equal as a lord! You…, “List interrupted Dirang, “I did not wish, as you said, for my men to be attacked!”
Dirang shook his head and looked at the men assembled behind List. List noticed the Duke’s eyes were slited, like a cat’s. Dirang was speaking again,
“… Poet of Lore, is that your title or merely your name?
“Tis a name it is mine, tis a title, and that too, is mine,” Poet answered.
“Ah good then! Now a song o Poet of Lore,” Dirang sat on the steps and motioned for those around him to do the same, not one moved.
Poet stood in thought awhile then broke out in song:

Flames tell a story
Of a time long forgotten
When wind and fire raged
A tempest through the ages

So look within their dancing hearts
Hear the voices of the wind
Be swept away
On a tempest through the ages

See winds fan the hungry fire
And rain that cannot turn them
See a power that roars beyond rage
A tempest through the ages

Watch now a greater fury
As waves reclaim their earth
Brown earth and blue waters
Battle a tempest through the ages



Peer through the driving rain
Listen to the hiss of dying flames
Watch as a bright star shines
On a tempest through the ages

Waves tell a story
Of a gentle time
When water and this land
Tamed a tempest of the ages

Poet’s voice reverberated through the halls then slowly faded out as the song finished.
Dirang called out, “Very good! If I might ask; where did you learn such a song, or is it your own?’
“Tis a song I learned from a band of warriors commanded by a roving Nefelhiem,” Poet answered then turned away from the duke.
“Ah yes, I am quite sure ye did, I am sorry I cannot entertain you longer. There are some things I must attend to before I step down as Duke of Roseotter. Tho will show you to your quarters inside the city, there you will find food and lodging. You may keep Tho as a guide and messenger. Good rest this night, warriors of Lord Ceden!” Dirang raised a hand to dismiss them.
Once they were outside the palace, List turned to Tho. “You have no need to stay with us, my friend” he said.
“It will be better if I stayed, at least until you know your way ‘round Roseotter,” Tho answered.
“If y’ wish, friend. One question for now and others after we are fed: Of what race was your duke before he was knighted to the Winged?” List asked as they stopped outside a tavern.
“Judging by his strange eyes and how tall he is, most of us think Duke Dirang was Warr-Tarrian. You are probably wondering which Winged race he is but no one knows for sure. Members of the different races carry a mark on one or both of their wings; Nefelhiem carry an unbroken circle on their left wing, Seraphim have a crescent on the right. Guards of Orion bear a diamond on their right wing. Hmmm, Nayi, like Lord Ceden, have a six pointed star on both wings and Higher Host have gold or silver wingtips. Dirang doesn’t have any of these marks so some people believe he is of the Host, whose wings are unmarked. A servant who helps Dirang with his armor once told me that on his left wing there is –very faint- a full circle. But who can tell?” Tho finished his speech and led them inside.
List sat at the head of a table the tavern owner pointed out to them. Raccor sat on his right hand side and Horn gave up his seat on the left to Tho then sat beside him, the others arranged themselves.
Almost immediately a huge side of roast ox was laid out before them, also on the table were bowls of fruit, bread, and cheese. A barrel of common ale was rolled out and tankards filled.
“Watch ole Poet down there once he’s had a few rounds,” Horn said jokingly to Tho.
“Our Poet can sing the head off a lark if he has a mind to. Now Tho, how much do you know of the Nayi?” List asked.
“Not much, I can only learn bits from the Guards and Seraphim that come through the city every so often. But I would be glad to learn more,” Tho answered as he refilled Horn’s tankard.
“My Lord Ceden –I still call him lord because I do not believe Dirang- is a Nayi and he carries the title Rouge. Most people will tell you the Nayi are a race of their own, this is not strictly true. The Nayi are crosses of two, sometimes more, of the other Winged races. Let me explain; It is well known that very few Winged are born, if someone from one of the common races –Eyal, human, Warr-Tarr, and Disarca- but not goblin, is favored by a Host, Guard, Seraphim, or Nefelhiem, they may be knighted, much like how kings give the accolade. But the knighting of a Winged changes one’s being completely. You may still resemble your race but you are of the Winged, whichever you are knighted into. Now how to become a Nayi… Say a Seraphim falls in the favor of a Guard and is knighted by that Guard. The Seraphim will remain partly Seraphim and gain certain traits only Guards posses, also, the crescent will fade to be replaced by a six-pointed star.
There are several other things about the Nayi: One, they are considered half-breeds and therefore outcasts. It is very hard for them to be accepted into any of the other Winged races and usually travel alone. Two, the only large group of Nayi is led by one of the Lords of the Awne, Annro of Ares. The third thing… well, every time a Winged is knighted to another race, they lose more of what they were.
That is what happened to Lord Ceden; he sought to gain the full power of every Winged race. He has even served under all three Lords of the Awne. No one can even guess at which common race he came from, he doesn’t know himself,”
List lapsed into silence as he realized all his men and others were watching him.
Raccor stood and addressed the table, “That’s enough fer one night. Let us rest now and see our captain turned into a proper lord on the morrow.” Amid the laughter and general clatter of chairs and weapons, List shot Raccor a withering glance. He just laughed louder and tramped upstairs with the others.
List looked into the first room; it was rather nice, clean with six sleeping pallets and a water basin. List turned from the room to say, “Tho, Raccor, Horn, Poet, and Skytower with me. The rest of you split up as you like and not too much ale, I don’t know how we are going to pay.”
List’s rest that night was uneasy, interrupted by strange dreams. He saw Duke Dirang’s silted eyes ringed by a perfect circle. This image was replaced by a shield, List could not see the arms it bore, only seven glowing stone circles set along its top. A voice in the dream set up a chant:

The Poet must sing the Cloud Lord’s praise
And the self-proclaimed duke must hear him
She who bears the Gatherer
Must fight the Poet’s battle
Roseotter will gain a proper lord
And the Rouge will lose its hold

List woke with a start just after dawn. Looking around he saw Poet of Lore and Skytower sitting on a pallet with a basket of bread and apples. As List made his way towards them around sleeping bodies, he wondered why he had chosen Poet’s apprentice to stay in his elder’s room instead of with the squires. List sat on the pallet and grabbed a loaf of bread. The three ate two loaves and several apples apiece before List ventured to speak,
“Poet, do you know who the Cloud Lord is?” Poet only shook his head. Skytower surprised them by saying, “Orion is the Cloud Lord! You know, Clotus. Clotus is sometime called the City of Clouds in songs. That is where the Awne Lord, Orion, rules!”
List laughed, causing Raccor, several pallets away, to sit up. List thanked Skytower and said to Poet, “Your apprentice has a good head on his shoulders. So that’s it, Poet, can you sing praise for Lord Orion where Dirang can hear you?”
“Tis not a good idea… Ole Tho said not to mention Orion’s name round his Duke” Poet answered. Raccor interrupted any further conversation as he made his way over to them. Halfway across the room, he tripped on the still sleeping Horn and went flying into Tho. Tho leapt up holding a dagger only to get caught in his blankets and fall again on top of Horn, chaos reigned as the three fought each other, blankets, and pallets in order to gain a foothold. Matters worsened as someone kicked the food basket into Skytower; he jumped up, knocking List and Poet over as he joined the fray. The shouts and blows eventually brought the other warriors running to see what was going on. Hapalein, Horn’s squire, was the first to arrive, he managed to haul his master out as Poet caught hold of Skytower and three other wrestled a blanket over an enraged Raccor.
The group filed out into the hall and lined the fighters against the wall. Luckily, Tho’s knife has been sheathed but bruises were already forming on the arms of the others where he had struck them. Even with his weapon, Tho had not fared much better, a bright red print showed on his face from the basket Skytower had slapped him with and he limped badly.
“This was merely an accident but that does not help the fact that my three top warriors and guide are sorely wounded. You four will remain here and Rok with Giihaine will take Horn and Raccor’s place by my side for the time being,” List told the downcast warriors as Rokdias and Giihaine moved next to him.
The squires, Hapalein and Sisent, helped Raccor and Tho back into the room as the two other squires straightened their sleeping pallets. Skytower and Horn followed and immediately lay down. List, flanked by Giihaine and Rokdias, lead his men out of the tavern and into Roseotter. After wandering for half the morning, the group spotted Duke Dirang, alone, walking towards them. They stopped to wait, List heard Poet humming softly behind him before stepping forward and breaking into song:

On Autumn nights
When the fires burn low
And the world rests
On the threshold of Winter
In the Eastern sky
Brilliant stars burn
In the shape of a hunter
Guardian in the night

Forever bright
Older than the ages
And Cloud Lord of the Awne
Orion
Orion
Guardian of the night

Poet broke off suddenly and threw himself sideways, narrowly avoiding Dirang’s heavy ax.
The Duke’s eyes burned with a savage light as he spoke to Poet, beating the air with his wings: “I decreed that the names of the Awne Lands would never be spoken in Roseotter. Whoever breaks my creed must face me in battle, rise and face me!”
Beside three throwing knives, Poet carried no weapon. But he had no need of one then.
A huge tempest rose and List was knocked flat as something came down in front of him. The sound of rasping steel and unearthly scream had him back on his feet and staring at the scene before him; Dirang was on the ground, gaping at a broadsword through his middle. Another Winged stood above the Duke saying, “Finally I have found you, Demon! Go back to your cowardly master and tell him, his rule over this land grows ever weaker! Now Go! Dirang’s strange silted eyes, which List now understood to be those of a Winged-Demon, faded and there the Duke of Roseotter lay slain.
The new warrior pulled its sword free, wiped the blade then spoke again, softer this time. “Bet you lot didn’t know what this blackguard really was. Ah well. Kindling, bring my Chosen.” The warrior turned to face List. All he could do was stare; The Winged was a Nefelhiem. List had seen the white circle against the brown of her left wing. A long, knotted scar ran from her left eye, over her cheek down under her chin and across her throat. Vaguely, List remembered that some Winged are immortal. She wore chain mail and a full suit of armor, the breast plate depicted a bobcat with wings folded across its back. A chain mail belt, ornamented in silver, supported a small pouch with a horn and a sword sheath on her right side. The Nefelhiem wielded her sword left handed and placed it back into its sheath,
“I am Morgan Le Fey the Second of the Nefelhiem. I serve Lord Qunic and Lady Soren, the city they rule is called the Helm.” Morgan said, shook List’s hand and walked down the road to the pasture. List followed.
List returned the greeting, “I am List Trueblade, I served Lord Ceden the Rouge of Rougesdom but now I am told that I am the Lord of this city.” List noticed Poet was sitting on the grass. Kneeling beside him, List was surprised as his warriors and Morgan sat around him. Poet looked up and said, “How many Lords are there? In the past two days I have heard Lord this and Lord that, more often than any other word.” Morgan turned her head back from addressing the four warriors who had arranged themselves around her.
“There are really only three Lords; Orion, of Clotus, Annro of Aries, and she who is known as Twelve Skies of Tern,” she said. “These powerful warriors are my Chosen, or personal guards. All four are of the common races; Leros is of Eyal, Banderlof and Hane are Warr-Tarrs, and Captain Kindling is human.” She gestured behind her.
“Of the men I brought from Rougesdom there is Poet of Lore, Chaw, Rokdias, Giihaine, Abrasiho, and Sheen. Three others are wounded, Raccor, Skytower, and Horn. Our squires are Arrflight, Hapalein, Torrccaron, and Sisent,” List said as he counted names. He looked up again just as Kindling handed Morgan a shield. The arms upon it were another bobcat, only this one faced out on the shield, hissing. Wings as dark brown as Morgan’s were half unfurled underlining, seven stone circles along the top of the shield, it was the shield from List’s dream.
Morgan noticed his stare and handed him the shield. List ran his hand over the circles, they were completely smooth.
“What do these stand for?” He asked Morgan. The Eyal, Leros, shook his head as Morgan answered,
“Six of them represent the Winged races, the middle represents Clotus. Only the Winged, those close to them, or those who claim allegiance to a group called The High Forest, can see the symbols carved into them. This shield is sometimes called the Gatherer because it has gathered warriors from each of the Winged races”.
Rokdias spoke up suddenly, “What about the Duke”. Morgan stared icily at List’s warriors as they moved uneasily.
“Huh, what a bunch of solid warriors you lot are. Cool thyselves, the people of Roseotter will see him then come running down here to claim their new lord,” she said. List chewed slowly on a blade of grass, and then spoke,
“I will keep the title of Duke but I renounce Ceden as my Lord. Won’t the people here seek retribution for the loss of their land?”
Behind Morgan, Hane giggled and Banderlof shoved his shoulder. Kindling reached over with a huge bow and dealt them a blow that sent both sprawling. Leros was red in the face from trying not laugh at the unfortunate Warr-Tarrs, who were twice the size of Kindling. Morgan seemed not to have notice anything as she answered List,
“They may have a fleeting thought of it, but once they see me, they won’t bother. If you think these blundering fools,” this was accented by a look at Hane and Banderlof, “are all that my Chosen consist of, you are sorely mistaken. The rest of my Chosen are proper warriors and if I were to be attacked, Kindling could call upon the crew of his ship, the Sea Hoof. A group of better warriors than any Winged or ruler could hope to lead” This time she looked to Leros and Kindling.
Suddenly the air was rent by shouts and trumpet calls. People ran up and down streets, banging on doors and joining in a wild chant “The Duke has fallen! The Duke has fallen! Dirang has fallen!”
All of the warriors stood and surrounded List and Morgan; the latter unhooked a horn from her belt and gave it a loud blast. Immediately the townspeople stopped shouting, List walked slowly towards the palace with city guards and townspeople alike falling in behind him and his escort. At the palace gates, two soldiers stood to attention. List stepped up between them and addressed the crowd behind him.
“People of Roseotter, your Duke Dirang fell in fair combat that he declared. You may do with him as is proper for the fallen of your city. I will not claim the title of Lord; I wish only to be called Duke as your late ruler was. Also I wish my shield to be painted with a spear bearing otter, not with my own arms for I have none.”
The people and his warriors set up a rousing cheer. List watched Horn, Tho, Skytower, and Raccor, supported on the shoulder of the young squires, cheering along with the best. List continued, “There will be some changes; Raccor and Giihaine will be Captains of the City Guard and are responsible for strengthening Roseotter’s defenses. Morgan will be Master at Arms, her Chosen and the remainder of my men will begin weapons training. Roseotter is going to war!”
Morgan stepped up beside List, roaring out over the noise of the crowd. “The Lords of the Helm are unable to spare a large part of their army. But I will bring my Chosen to Roseotter’s aid. Furthermore, I will use what influence I posses in the Helm to bring more warriors to this fight. On this I swear!” With this she swung the Gatherer onto her arm and drew her sword. The seven circles flashed out and symbols formed black against the light.
The people of Roseotter began stomping their feet or drumming on anything at hand to a chant that swelled through the ranks:
“Up with Roseotter! Down with the Rouge!”
It had been four months since List had become Duke of Roseotter. Already the walls around the city were strong and his army was growing stronger.
Now List was sitting on the steps outside the palace talking to Tho. They said nothing of real importance; they just talked of food supplies and some advantages of armor. List was waiting, Morgan had been gone for most of those months, gathering support for Roseotter. Today Kindling’s ship, the Sea Hoof, would bring the last group of warriors.
Docking horns from a near-by river had announced the arrival of several boats in the night and List hoped they were from the Sea Hoof. He didn’t have to wait much longer. From around a corner, Morgan marched out at the head of a great column. Behind her two human-looking warriors shouted orders for the marchers to halt. List noticed the warrior on Morgan’s right was distracted, when the other captain laid her hand on his arm, a pair of sand-colored wings flickered behind his shoulders. List left Tho on the steps to join Morgan.
“List, meet Heather Windflyer and Eavon Griffin, both are Nefelhiem of the Helm and these are our Chosen.” She said as she gestured around her. The column had broken up, List could see Goblins, Eyal, Warr-Tarrs and humans milling around and talking to one another. All of them bore the arms of one of the Nefelhiem on their shields and armor; bobcats for Morgan, an albatross for Heather and griffins for Eavon. List also thought he saw a golden lion. He figured Morgan had brought about 15 score.
Behind the first column, two other groups had appeared; Kindling stood at the head of a rough, sea faring group. The other was made up of the wolf-like Disarca. The Nefelhiem, called Heather, stretched snowy-white wings and turned to List saying, “Nice to meet ye. Now if you wouldn’t mind, call out your soldiers for we march this night!” List nodded and looked for Tho, but the messenger had already gone to rally the city to arms. All around the palace lawns warriors were talking and taking their ease after the long march.


It has now been four years since Roseotter marched on Rougesdom, finally the war has ended. In the first half of the third year, the Helm won its own war and sent its entire army to aid Roseotter. Even with the Helm, the war was hard; five lords pledged their cities to Lord Ceden, only three fought by List.
Only Raccor, Rokdias, and Poet survived the fighting out of List’s original nine warriors. Four of my own Chosen fell…still every win comes with loss. Leros tells me Tho will be returning with us to the Helm as a captain in the archery ranks. Lady Soren has offered to leave a detachment of warriors to help rebuild the cities of Barravon. List accepted so Heather and Eavon with their Chosen will stay here a few months longer, Kindling also wishes to stay with his good friend Rokdias a while. Now captaincy of the Sea Hoof falls to me, may our journey home be short.
-Morgan Le Fey II, Nefelhiem of the Helm