Pirouette

O R I F L A M M E

⚜ Camille de la Saumure ⚜

---

Interaction: @YummyYummy
Siege of Relouse / Beach Landing

---

It felt strange when Camille wore her armor. The gift of Dami removing the burden of the weight she carried made not only her armor and equipment weightless, but the clothes she wore underneath. It was like a thin air levitated everything away from her and it made her feel naked. Naked at a time like this in front of all these people! She could never get use to this feeling of being exposed and always it seemed people looked to her. It was almost like she was really nude in front of them like some spectacle.

Her people weren't like that, she knew. They were just looking to her for hope, many have said it to her before. The put her on a pedestal of what the best of Perrence could be. Maybe that's why she felt the way she did. She wasn't a saint like the people in the stories, she was just Camille. Somebody who would gladly accept Dami's Judgement to let her return home and live a quiet, peaceful life but she was judged to have more work to do, especially this day.

Her grip tightened around her weightless greatsword watching the mass of ships roll in. There were so many. She had fought the Eskandr before, leading battle groups against an array of three longships at most. But this? How many were out there, she wondered. A hundred? A thousand? Each with savage warriors who would rend the heads of newborns and drink their blood. Her right sand slipped from her sword and reached into the small bag she had tied around her waist. She couldn't feel it on her skin, but she knew what she was touching. The sand of her home, still fine and soothing as she dug her gloved fingers into pouch. It gave her hope for a better tomorrow. A tomorrow where she would return to the beach by Port Morilles...

”Dame Camille de la Saumure.”

Camille froze. The deep voice of the giant boomed with an air of authority. She wasn't the only one to freeze around her as everyone ahead of her seemed to stiffen, even jump.

”Come.”

The giant's hand raised and fingers motioned of her to approach. She knew better than to dodge a summons of a lord, though this man she had heard about. Le Séisme, the stories often called him in a testament to his sheer force of presence. She wasn't sure if the ground shook when he spoke, but her certainly sent a ripple through the people around.

She stepped around the levy's, some making a path for her, others too zoned out to notice until she brushed past them. It wasn't long before she had approached the giant's side, dwarfed in every sense of the word next to him. The only thing she had comparable was her greatsword, still resting in her grip, propped up by her shoulder, the tip of the blade towering even over the giant.

Camille turned her head and looked up at him as he spoke, her own helmet disguising her reluctance to be here. When initially summoned, she had no idea what a man with that reputation could want that she could offer. Yet here he was, asking her for support. She wasn't sure what he was getting at. Did he need the reassurance like the many draftees? Surely not, considering his reputation but maybe, he did. Claude always told her that when people asked her for a blessing or what their chances are, she had to be confident. It gave them hope and made them fight harder. If that was even half true then a man like the giant fighting harder would surely be a gift to them all.

"Je ne veux promettre que ce que je suis sûre de réaliser...₁" Camille replied back, projecting her voice from experience to sound stern and reassured. She continued, "I'll do my best if you do your best."

She hoped that was enough.

A mist rolled in, Camille knew enough to suspect the underhandedness of magic to cause this but she didn't know to what end. Hide were the boats were landing but there was only one beach. They had to land here as scaling any of the cliffs seemed like a lot of work but she wasn't sure. Tactics that some of the nobles would employ seemed far out of reach for her head. She never questioned them, even if they did seem nonsensical so who was she to judge in Dami's place? If this was an attempt to outsmart them, she would do what she could to not make it easy.

Eskandr landed on the beach and made their way up to where the Grand Armee awaited them. Camille couldn't help but wince at the sight of more than a few of them going down to quicksand. She liked the sand of a beach but not that much, hearing some of their last cries before getting submerged entirely. Those of the invading army that made it past the line of defenses made their way towards the defensive line. Camille brought her greatsword off her her shoulder and she slid into a ready position.

"Right behind ya, girl. We'll keep an eye out." She heard Claude call out from behind her. The two of them were instructed to back her up but they discovered quickly how best to do that.

Dami, give the strength comparable to your will.

The Eskandr warriors charged and Camille stepped forward. With a display of experience, she timed her swing just as the first line of warriors approached her range. The three warriors looked to rush in before she could swing. They chose poorly. Camille felt the strength Dami gave her course through her arm, bringing her sword swiftly along a horizontal line in front of her. The blade whistled sharply in the air. The rightmost warrior hastily raised a shield in an attempt to deflect or block the blow but even with his shield raised, her greatsword had such a power behind it that it cut through the wood without a slow of momentum. Her sword continued and the warrior let out a roar of regret as the blade sliced through his arm, torso, and through his other arm without stopping.

Her blade didn't stop, either. The other warriors on their approach continued, only managing a step or two closer before the greatsword cleaved through them just as effortlessly. It was a mess of gore as she severed bodies cleanly through. A warrior in the second line, on her rightmost again, looked to dart in quickly with her sword to the left, trying to close in before she could recover. She was weightless, however, and any awkward footing from momentum never existed in this case. Her grip on her sword adjusted, bringing the tip of the blade pointed towards the charging warrior and Camille thrusted her reach forward. The steel ran swiftly through the warrior who had scarce time to react before being punctured in the stomach. She pulled the man forward, catching a glimpse of his weathered, aged face.

Old. They were all old. Camille felt her stomach tie in a knot in revulsion. The Eskandr were sending their elderly to die, first. Such savages! She punted the man, planting her boot on his waist and sending him off of her blade.

A spark of lightning zipped from behind Camille's head, hearing it crackle as it went. The bolt continued on, striking the hastily raised shield of an Eskandr, slowing her to stop. Claude's doing as the man was a one and half wheel Thunder Knight. He knew well enough to stay out of Camille's swing range but his role as to slow or pick off those that tried to get the drop on Camille was enough to keep her virtually untouchable.

Camille brough her blade around and ended that warrior's chance at continuing in this battle.

"Girl, I fear the Eskandr are up to something. Do not stray far."

She hadn't realized she was stepping further away from the mainline but that was natural given her tendency try and catch opponents as far as she could. There was a bit of a break in the wave of warriors, anyway, and Camille pulled back to the line just as the giant began weaving a powerful wind. She hadn't noticed the storm roll in until now. Was it always going to rain today?

"I heard the Witch Wood is under attack." Armand chimed in, appearing out of nowhere. Camille frowned and glanced over to the walls of Relouse. Were the Eskandr actually attacking the Witch Wood? If so then why were they here? The Eskandr were just sending their elderly to die. "We should go help." Camille replied but was quickly spoken over by Claude. "No that's exactly what the enemy wants. The beach is the only accessible way to land a massive force. If we give up any ground here then they can land more of their forces here. Let them waste energy climbing those cliffs."

Camille looked once more to Relouse. Claude sounded convincing but then why would the Eskandr send their old to just die without any gains? They could have just attacked the Witch Wood without these needless loses.

Maybe the Eskandr weren't that clever...

_{1: I promise only what I can realize}

The Hourglass Order

Ysilla Al-Nader

---

Tick
Tick
Tick

The two metronomes she pictured moved and sounded on their own for some time. Ysilla wasn't sure how much time was needed but the madness of both running on their own soon synchronized into one rhythm. The weak forces tying the metronomes together had produced an alignment and they became connected, no matter the distance.

She kept her eyes closed, mediating with the exception of her left arm, stretched out to a notebook where she held a pen. Her hand began to slowly, transcribing a message that she couldn't know. Not yet, anyway, as this part of the process required her to give up control and will to her other half. The sound of the scraping pen became a temptation and yet she would not dare to budge. Not until she was sure the message was complete.

The sound of writing ceased and Ysilla kept her mind focused on the two metronomes but she could see and hear them turning out of tune again. The connection was lost and whatever she attempted to scry, it was over. Opening her eyes, Ysilla glanced down, first at the single metronome in front of her. The needle and mechanisms idly ticking away. She turned from that to her notebook that now had the message she had scried.

Sister.
Preserve.

Pitiful. Even with her more ingenious discovery of utilizing chemical magic to share memories and vision, it was still not enough to overcome the issue of range. There was so much she still had to learn. This feat shouldn’t be impossible. The Tethered children are a testament to the extent of magic. Though they had just immense power capable and there was nothing clever about using brute force. What more could she add to extend her range?

—

Camels.

Ysilla felt a tinge of disappointment not seeing the horses were present. Fiorella, in particular. She didn’t know much about animals but it was obvious the camel was the beast of the desert. So why keep the horses? A worthless line of thought that she discarded as she approached her camel. It, like the horses, did not appreciate her. This camel gurled and flapped its lips and tongue in distress constantly. Ysilla wasn’t even doing anything, just watching it, as it made disgusting guttural noises. It wasn’t as jumpy as the horse so she decided to try her luck.

Mounting the beast took effort but she managed, picking herself and steadying with a little help from Magnetic magic. She didn’t ride and her position in the saddle obviously looked awkward. Yet away they went, on a journey to stop aberrations.

Halassa were a non-factor. The ones they faced last night were a fair enough scale to determine what a sane creature of this species could do if they really wanted you. These ones were scared off easily enough. The Rhinodon was intimidating, requiring a touch of Ysilla’s magnetic pull to usher her camel along to safety, as well as preventing her from falling off. Her camel, whatever name they gave it, whined ungratefully for the help but that would only mean Ysilla would never offer this beast a carrot.

A sandstorm rolled in and they had to cover some ruins in a cave. Initially, Ysilla was curious enough to wander but she didn’t manage it for long. Her joints felt stiff, movement sluggish, and her mind blurred with a void of thought. The curiosity she had felt faded rapidly and she quietly slid down to prop herself up against one of the pillars away from the group. Whatever relief she felt from her synchronization earlier had expired. She had to link again but even the knowledge of how to set it up felt like a fading memory. It was hastily constructed and the metronome’s tick provided a soothing relief. She couldn’t hear the second one, however, and her left hand sat still.

—

The rest of the voyage was a blur, at best. Ysilla was there, she knew it, but it all felt very distant. The sense of urgency and worry about the dangers felt.. Distant. In fact, Ysilla couldn’t really feel anything at all. There was no terror in her mind as the froabasses rained down in a violent terror. The guards and creatures in the area are being ripped apart in a feast of rabid violence. There was only the directive. Sister. Preserve.

Ysilla’s camel spurred in a rush throwing the puppeteer from her mount. She shot herself up with magic and withdrew Khamsei from her back. The doll laughed as it floated in between her hands, one last laugh before cracks along his porcelain flesh began and quickly spread. One last Ha echoed as the doll was shattered into sharpened shards. Projectiles that were now turned against any frobasses that dived for Zarina or Ysilla, herself.

Sister, first. Preservation, second.

The porcelain shards were not lethal but flung at high speeds in between her hands ensured they would pierce the wyvern hide. While covering her sister, Ysilla had let one of the beasts slip by, the mouth of the creature taking a hold of right shoulder, teeth sinking in with the creatures wild thrashing mangling her flesh.

She made no noise. Only did what she had to. Hoopoe flew out from under Ysilla’s hat and darted her beak into the eye of the creature. The frobass pulled away, snapping at the wooden crow but Hoopoe would prove just as violent as the creature was with her creator. Vicious pecks, talons ripping, and thrashing made the battle a mangled mess of one-sided gore. Hoopoe would slaughter the creature just before the pull of a great magical draw would occur. Ysilla fell back, sliding against the rock until she sat on the ground. Hoopoe watched, standing triumphantly on the carcass of the creature she slayed.

There would be no more as Jocasta performed a great feat of transporting all those creatures away. Ysilla did not feel it. She couldn’t but with her sister safe. She turned towards preservation.

Blood poured from her shoulder like wine, staining her almost porcelain like skin and the white cloth of her clothes and her transmodified white cape. She had to patch the wound and so Khamsei’s other purpose was put into use. The remaining porcelain was moulded in her hands like clay and she applied it across her wounds. The slight touch of chemical magic changing the material to match that of her skin and seal the wounds she had received.

She arose like nothing happened and did not spare a thought to the worsening situation of the wyrm consuming an aberration. With Khamsei consumed, Hoopoe mangled, and now Ysilla’s form fading, she wasn’t sure how much her vessel could offer.

She wasn’t even sure she could make the trip back but had the drive of her purposes pushing her forward. Sister. Preserve. She’d mindlessly follow the convoy as it limped back. The sight of the Refuge did not stir any recollection, like she had never been there. Memory was dying and short term memory was non-existent. This form remembered her sister and thus she had purpose to keep functioning but how long until she forgot Zarina?

O R I F L A M M E

⚜ Camille de la Saumure ⚜

---

Interaction: None
Two days before Relouse / Port Morilles

---

The waves rolled in a soft roar as they crashed along the beach like an invader clashing against the bleached brown sand. Slowed to a crawl, the salt water would climb just enough to caress the bare feet of Camille. It was like the beach had missed her. Was going to miss her, she mused in her head. How long had she been here? Any hour or two? It was difficult to know but she knew the sun had noticeably moved from its low perch on the morning horizon to the high peak of noon.

It was almost time.

Her toes dug into the sand as her arms tightened around her knees, curling herself up to as small as she could be. She didn't want to go. When the news broke in Lord Gabriel's keep that the Eskand and Perrence were going to war, she knew what was coming. What would be required of her. She had been doing it for the past year, fending off the increasing waves of overly zealous Eskandr clan leaders to claim an early prize. They only got what was coming to them. Those that she slayed became feed for the gulls. She let so many of them go though. Maybe if they ran back to Eskand, they would only tell about the hopelessness they faced. It was a stupid thought because now all those that she spared were coming back.

She eyed the waves, feeling their cool touch inviting. Maybe she would just lay here, let the waves take her away. She can drift along the briny surface, floating on her back like Alexandre taught her. The sun warmly kissing her face, letting her slip peacefully into a deep sleep so she'd never have to wake again.

Pentad forgive her for having such a thought but she was already tired of killing. If not her, then another would take her place. That's how cruel it could be and rather than give in, she knew she had to keep going. Spare others from having their lives consumed by violence and death. Dami-Sept guided her this far because He knew better than her. He knew she could or would do it to save others from the unfairness that the foul Eskandr brought with them. Her life of misery for a whole city, no, the whole of Perrence to live free from worry. How could she deny that?

The bells of the Pentad's church began to ring. The Pentad answering her, but it was a sound she wished she didn't hear. The bell chimed for the marshaling of Port Morilles forces to begin. They had a good day's ride ahead to reach Relouse and Lord Gabriel didn't want to tarry.

Camille buried her feet in the wet sand. Five more minutes.

---

Interactions: None
Day before Relouse Invasion / Grand Armee Encampment

---

They arrived the previous evening with enough time to set up their camp. Lord Gabriel was bringing most of his retainers and together they made a barren section of land, in the already bustling encampment, theirs. Lord Gabriel would be staying in Relouse and he offered Camille a bed as well. At the time she believed it was just him being nice and she politely declined several times but later she'd realize, rather be told, that a woman sleeping in a military camp was unusual. Men might act unusual around her.

They did act unusual around her mostly when she left the area where Lord Gabriel's forces were gathered. When she went around in a plain tunic and trousers (she didn't pack one of her dresses for obvious reasons), she'd be occasionally hounded by those that recognized she was a woman. Where's your dress girl? Can you fetch me something to eat? The poor father who had to send his daughter to war... They were probably innocent about their intentions, it was just obnoxious to hear whenever she left to walk around. She didn't even know how to cook that well.

It was even worse when she decided to wear her armor to try and look more official. People, this time including those that knew her from Lord Gabriel's camp, kept asking her if the Pentad were with them. Blessings, pleads, and all manner of wishes and miracles for Camille to perform. She didn't know how to do any of that stuff. She just prayed and her prayers sometimes got answered. How would she possibly know how to commune with the Pentad? They didn't say anything to her specifically, only answering in ways she had to decipher.

When she finally had enough she retreated to her tent where Claude and Armand were laying around. "Dami spare me, please." Camille whined as she threw open the tent flap and walked in, her full armor rattling as she stomped over to her bedroll.

Claude sat up, his expression shifting to amusement. "Heh. People are looking for any sign they are going to make it out alive, Puce₁." Camille paused mid-stride and gave the middle-aged man a look. He lifted his shoulders once and then a hand through his full set of graying hair. "Can't blame 'em for wanting hope."

"Well I know that but you called me puce again." Camille turned towards the man fully now, hands moving to her hips looking at him expectedly. Ever since they worked together as knights under Lord Gabriel, Claude was always doting to her. He had a daughter and a son but to him, Camille was his flea! She never liked that even though he meant well by it. "Oh did I? Ha." The man bellowed, letting his hand message the back of his neck. "Guess I am missing my children already if I am already doing that."

"Better if people underestimate you." Armand chimed in, not bothering to stir from his laying on his bedroll. He had a lot more youth than Claude, hardly having a few ages on Camille. He kept his dark hair short and was rather built compared to the more gaunt figure of Claude. Together, the three of them ran together as Lord Gabriel's knights and had spent the past year together. This campaign was nothing new, although as Claude had said on the march to Relouse, they would be campaigning for a lot longer if this was a true war.

"I know, I know. I just want to be left alone today. I am already nervous enough and when people think I have all the answers, I don't know what to say. I can't just tell them to leave." Camille sighed, finally making it over to her bedroll as she worked to remove one of her plate gloves. "Can one of you just check on Perrin for me, at least." She asked, tossing her glove onto her bed before moving to work on the other one.

"No." Armand quickly replied, receiving a nasty look from Camille in response. Claude, however, rose to his feet with a grunt. "I think ol' Perrin is fine but I'll do it if it means so much to you. But..." Camille froze, lifting her head knowing what was coming. "I get to call you ma puce for the rest of the day." She knew it. Her head dropped in resignation. "Fine. Now go check him. Give him a treat too!"

_{1 = flea}

---

Interaction: @Ti
Relouse Invasion / Relouse

---

Camille, Claude, and Armand were ushered in by Lord Gabriel offering them a place to hear King Arcel's speech and blessing. They had to get ready early enough and so now, they stood in full armor amid the thousands waiting for the ceremony to begin. At first, Camille wanted to reserve her prayer for Dami to relieve her of the weight she carried, both mentally and physically. In full armor, her shield on her back, greatsword propped against her shoulder, she felt exerted from just walking from her tent to the pavilion where the King would make his speech.

Under her breath she muttered her prayer for relief. "Dami judge me right and take this weight for me." A prayer she made every time she was in her full kit and the relief was almost instantaneous, the weight of her armor lifted to be like she was wearing cloth. Her shield pulling on her back, felt like air, and her sword, nothing more than an extension of her arms. She breathed a sigh of relief. The Pentad, namely Dami, could forgive her for making an early prayer.

King Arcel began and reverently, Camille removed her helmet and came to a kneel, laying her greatsword upon her knees. She closed her eyes and with every word, she recited under her breath. It might have been desperate or out of line but she believed the Pentad had to hear their prayers here. All of them. Her people were good, fair, and honest. The Eskandr were cruel, violent, and malicious. How could the Pentad judge this any differently so they had to know. Even if They had to hear it twice. She could feel the Pentad responding, her knees feeling the shake of Their touch through the ground. It was like it was surging to everyone. It was a good sign, Camille believed.

"Amen." She said loudly after the Queen, opening her eyes and raising her head. Several others around her were kneeling with her as a surprise but that was the right thing to do, she thought.

Rising now to her feet, she looked to Claude and Armand. Claude nodded at her while Armand gave her a weak smile. She gave them a nod and a smile back before receiving a bump from behind…

Asier uses the opportunity after prayers to greet Camille as he spots the woman in the gathering nearby. “Pardon, do you happen to be Dame De la Saumure? You are difficult to recognise without the golden skin.” he playfully remarks on the legend as he greets her in a friendly manner, “The Fleur de Lys gave it away. My name is Ser Arslan, Tourrare horseman turned Knight, a Man of Arcel, it is a pleasure to meet someone with a reputation like yours, my daughter loves the stories of your exploits”.

It wasn’t really a bump, more of a tap. It did accomplish the intended effect and Camille turned to witness a man she had never seen before. He knew her, though.

”Oui.” She muttered in reply, realizing where this conversation was going. It wasn’t just the common people who knew her but some of the nobility as well would come up and talk to her. Her stories preceded her, it seemed and the past year of her incursions to defend the southern coast of Perrence were apparently known even to the far stretches of Tourrare.

She didn’t like the stories of her having golden skin.

With a reverent bow, keeping her greatsword pinned to her chest to make sure she wasn’t accidentally swinging her blade in Ser Arslan’s direction, she made the appropriate sign of respect. ”Greetings, Ser Arslan. I do not know if I live up to the stories they tell. People like to make up a lot of things I do…” She resigned humbly, glancing away.

Asier grins widely as he laughs, putting his hand upon the woman’s shoulder. He was thankful she wasn’t 6ft either, as he would have been dwarfed by her size. “Si, you know as the Lion Knight, the Lions must be kept in the stables. It is always tricky when Aslan, Simba, and Leo get hungry. The noble horses don’t tend to like it. Hope your own steed is locked up safely in case they become peckish.” He can empathize with the tall tales and gossip that is spread, subject to those himself, some of them even unflattering thanks to the actions of those envious, can imagine the same for Camille too. “My presence is not aimed to bother you, but if your skill is only a quarter of what they say, we need this strength on this day. Pleased to have you by our side.” He lets go of her shoulder, moving to offer a handshake, treating his fellow warrior as an equal.

Her attention snapped back at the mention of Ser Arslan keeping lions. She had never seen one before but had heard they were vicious beasts. While he could keep them, Camille felt alarm at the mention of keeping lions with the horses! ”You keep your lions and horses together?” She inquired but got her answer from a third party. Claude behind her let out a chuckle. ”No girl, those are the stories they tell about him.”

Camille felt her cheeks warm in a blush. ”Oh.” She muttered, quietly taking his hand and shaking it. ”May Dami judge us all to be on the right side, Ser Arslan.”

Asier nods to Camille’s companions in respect, “Dami will judge us wisely. Now we must retire to the King’s council. After we win this battle, my daughter will be excited for a few days about having the padre papá after meeting you”. He smiles warmly as he departs, “May we meet again”.

Camille gave the man a weak smile. She certainly hoped he would see his daughter again. ”Oui. Dami guide you through battle.” She offered, seeing the man turn and walk. The aspect of being an encouraging figure had always been difficult to her but after a year, she had a couple of lines ready to sound like she knew what to say.

She also figured out that the nobles didn’t need as much mysticism as the commoners did. It was strange but with nobility, she found herself to be more reserved and humble. To the commoner, however, she had to appear steadfast. It was exhausting and she turned back to Claude and Armand.

Claude was amused by it all and Armand looked like his head was in the clouds. ”Always wondered what it would be like to have a reputation like yours, girl. Can’t believe you don’t have fun with it.” Claude received a dirty look and he raised his hands defensively. ”Fine, fine. We should get going. Lord Gabriel’s levy is likely to have made it back home in the time it took for the King to make his speech.”

Camille could only wish that would be the case.

The Hourglass Order

Ysilla Al-Nader

---

Ysilla had laid in the quiet of her room. She had felt tired before but now having the chance to rest, she could not. Sleep required an invitation, but it never could arrive when she wanted it too. For awhile, the Virangish teen lay with her eyes closed only taking moments to peer through slits at the sound of stirring. She swore she heard someone stirring outside and she glanced to the door. Khamsei and Hoopoe sharing the foot of the bed, facing the door acting as sentries. It... was more a ritual than anything else to place them in such a manner. They wouldn't provide any security despite 'watching' the door.

Whoever was outside, Ysilla decided not to investigate opting to return to closing her eyes. Sleep was finally knocking but the dreams were quick to follow.

"Hark in the Halls of my Kin who are Lost...

A feminine voice sang softly, no more than a mere whisper. She carried a tune but her voice croaked with strain and the melody sounded sad. There was a longing in melody, a want for something. Ysilla couldn't see her, the picture was dark as if she had her eyes closed. As if she were somewhere else.

"Sabbah would sing to the ghosts...

The language was Virganish and as Ysilla heard more, the woman sounded familiar. Whoever the singer was, it was like she had known her for a very long time. There was a strange longing, like she felt she was being pulled towards the singer's voice.

"The Ones she had loved, the Ones she had left...

Suddenly there was a sting in her chest, like a needle had pierced her flesh. Ysilla clenched her teeth and thrashed, at least she thought she did but no matter how much her mind played her movement, her body did not stir. Was she strapped down? Encased magically? She needed to open her eyes.

"The Ones who had loved her the most...

A sharper pain in her chest flared. This was no longer a pinprick but now she was being sliced open. She wanted to open her mouth and scream but it didn't shift, not even her vocal chords could wail in agony. Could she do anything?

Now gone for so very long, I couldn't remember your face...

Concentrate. Concentrate. Ysilla heard those words stir in her mind. She had to find out where she was. Find out what she needed to do to break free. It took everything, fighting the anguish of the various pricks and cuts to her chest tearing her apart, but she managed to move. Her eyelids lifted, light rushing in and she could see.

How you could change my life the most...

The woman, singing still as hovered over her chest. Ysilla couldn't see herself, aside from the pale skin of her nose but she could see the woman, focused intently on whatever she was doing to her chest for a moment before she froze. The other woman shifted, the length of her hat coming to block the light and shade Ysilla's gaze. Her hat. Before she could study anything else a soft set of fingers touched her eyelids, gently closing them. Ysilla couldn't see the woman anymore as her song continued for one more line.

You would sing our sorrows away..."

Ysilla awoke with a gasp. She clutched at the fabric covering her chest as she jolted up. Her breathing intense as she glanced around the room. It was just her, back in the Refuge. Nobody was here. Save for Khamsei and Hoopoe who were watching her wake with a fright. Their lifeless eyes seemed to peer focus on her and as she recovered from her reoccurring dream. She always had nightmares but this was the first that actually brought fright. The gaze of those unflinching eyes of her puppets weren't bringing comfort like they did in her room. Her own gaze shifted to her hat that sat in the corner of the room. Why had she seen that in her dream? The girl from last night? She wondered...

Movement outside. People were waking and moving on. She had to as well.

She dressed and stashed Khamsei and Hoopoe in their spots. She had new clothes but her hat and cloak were kept, maintaining that iconic look. Stepping out into the sunlit pavilion, the puppeteer would skulk silently following some of her companions to breakfast.

She didn't eat. Not much, anyway. She had each of the items offered but only a single bite-sized portion of each as if she were sampling them. The cooking was adequate for what it was. This wasn't a place of taste as a segregated colony in a danger strewn desert. They wouldn't be able to bring in spices and more exotic ingredients like the cities of Torragon but the Torragonese cuisine was always Ysilla's favorite outside of some of Virangish specialties.

Discussions at breakfast were dull proceedings. They talked business and any topics away from that were deflected by this table's conversational dictator. Bored, Ysilla sat still and slowly panned from each of her dining companions, watching what they ate and how they ate. Maybe if they reacted a certain way to whatever was being talked about. While the intention was innocent enough, her still and seemingly unblinking certainly came off with a different energy.

We don’t need to fill the minds of children with nightmares

Ysilla perked up. Her nightmare, as cumbersome as it was during sleep, at least offered an insight into what people were like. What did they fear enough to consider it a nightmare? She panned back to warden, patiently waiting to interject with her own question.

"Warden, indulge me. Perchance do you have any nightmares?" She asked plainly like it was an everyday question. If he denied or refused, he was lying. Ysilla wouldn't follow that up, knowing that regardless of his reaction, she would know more about what the warden was like.

---
@YummyYummy

With breakfast ended. Ysilla wondered off on her own. She walked quietly through the grounds, watching the children and the guards go about their usual days. She got a lot of stares back but few approached her, noting that the children might have been instructed to avoid them. A lie by the warden that they could see the children tomorrow. Ysilla wasn't going to cause an issue on that matter yet. She was distracted with something else.

In her mind, there was an inkling of something she wanted to see but couldn't place it. The presence of this nagging desire was bothering her. Last night when she arrived at the Refuge, it was there, but this morning? It was like the thought vanished. Someone had something she wanted to see? But who and what? Her mind began to hurt and slipping a hand from under her cloak to her temple. She rubbed in a circular movement, eyes closed trying let that nagging feeling fall away.

When there was some relief, Ysilla used her exposed hand and lifted up her hat to let Hoopoe out. The wooden bird cawed and took off in a low hover circling Ysilla as she paced over to a wall where she could lean against. She'd sit there and watch as Hoopoe would turn and fly off. The bird airing itself out as it surveyed the Refuge now with the light of day to get the full layout. Ysilla could see through Hoopoe's eyes through a bit of complexity with chemical magic. It stirred her own mind to dream of what Hoopoe was actually seeing. The process was difficult to maintain but very, very useful.

The static entity of the Refuge, the buildings and the like, were swiftly taken into account before Ysilla started to focus on the movement. People. It took work to focus on them after building the image of the landscape but she'd be able to watch people from Hoopoe's point of view. There were the children and guards, even her companions moving about. She watched for awhile before witnessing her sister break away towards the stables. She recognized what that meant.

Opening her eyes, she snapped her attention back herself, slightly dizzy from the effort. Hoopoe would descend as Ysilla started heading for the stables. The wooden bird would arrive first, flying through the window and perching herself on the windowsill, announcing the arrival with a loud squawk. It would be seconds after that Ysilla would step inside the stable.

She stood at the doorway for a moment but didn't give her sister a chance to break the silence first. "You always flee towards animals when anger is at the forefront." She said plainly in their native tongue. "Tragically predictable. You ought to consider that."

The Hourglass Order

@Force and Fury

Morning, maybe. I’ll be on discord tonight I think.

Morning = 12 hours from now. Tonight = ~2 hours from now.

The Hourglass Order

@Force and Fury

Yes. We can try.

The Hourglass Order

@Force and Fury

That is kind of you.

Long story short, Ysilla as an idea was born hastily and not entirely by my own ideas. I’m a planner type who wants to have a strong foundation to build off of. Yums can attest to this but if I’m into a character, I can really stretch out the hows, whys, and what ifs for a chara.

But I can’t even think of what Ysilla wants to make as her next puppet, a central part of the character and that should be fun, what material, form she chooses playing a literary role. I have fun when there is complexity and causation. Because that leads to satisfying pay off or connections.

The Hourglass Order

@Ti

The collab happening and everyone having fun with it isn’t a big deal. Like if you right in the middle of another one and having fun then yes, continue!

The reason I bring it up is that it may have helped me find some fun angle with Ysilla.

It is hedging my bet, too. If Oriflamme is having similar situations happen. I at least have more going on with Camille that is fun for me so that feeling of missing out isn’t really there. So instead of splitting my attention between the both if I’m missing out, then I would at least keep pursuing the character I can have fun with on my own.

Hopefully that makes sense.

The Hourglass Order

Woah. Collab.

So I was going to consider waiting until I got home to write this on discord but I have a moment now and I want to get it off my chest.

I am considering dropping out of this RP. There are a few reasons. I just have like no connection with my character. I’m just not able to find a fun way to write as Ysilla. I would be fine to keep trying, however…

I am missing a lot by not being able to be on discord. I didn’t even know there was a collab going for the Desert crew and there are only so many ways I can write “Ysilla sat in silence listening to everyone” before it gets boring.

I have full intentions to at least see the end of the Desert mission but if I can’t find any muse then I’ll work a way to write Ysilla out.

Definitely a “it’s not you, it’s me” thing.

O R I F L A M M E

Camille De La Saumure

“There I was, pinned under that damned beast, slow as it was, and left praying to the very gods that cursed me with a bum leg. They answered though.
Mounted on a magnificent stead, I witnessed the gold light of Dami’s Scale in her armor and the Hammer in her sword.
I was judged to live awhile longer, praise the Judge for her.
Dami Guide Her and bless her for my life.”

Camille De la Saumure__ _ _ _ _

17 | F E M A L E | P A R R E N C E | THUNDER + FORCE + ESSENCE | K N I G H T__ _ _ _ _

C H A R A C T E R I S T I C S__ _ _ _ _

Depending on who you ask, the description for Camille changes with whatever version of her story they heard and who they heard it from. Some say she is a seven foot tall giant of a woman, others claim her skin is hued with gold, and even some that believe Camille is a man.

The truth beyond the myth of Dami’s Chosen is that Camille is a nearly eighteen year old girl, thrusted into the mantle of apparent sainthood. She measures at an average height of five feet and six inches, average build although she has noted some more defined muscles and a gain of weight within the past year but hardly enough to make a man strain himself to carry her. Her dark hair is kept short, barely reaching her neck with her bangs cut to keep her face, and embellished boyish features, apparent. She maintains unimpressive brown eyes and bears hardly any scarring throughout her form.

And no.
She doesn’t have golden skin.

Her conviction is quite different to the stories paint as well. Camille isn’t this strongly motivated force of Dami’s Judgment. She is a teenaged girl who believed she witnessed a vision from the Pentad to perform one act in devotion. An act that swiftly swept her up into playing a much larger role, one she didn’t want to even dream of, let alone conceive and comprehend.

At times she believes she never wanted any of this but has to deal with the curse of knowing that she’d crush so many hopeful people by being anything different. How many people would have died if she had not been there? What would people say when she saw her if she quit? What if she saw someone else who needed help? What happens if they think she is a fraud? What would the gods do to her if she rejected their blessing? These questions haunt her at night if she ever considers quitting and thus she can’t. Ever onward until the end, using her faith in the Pentad to push herself to try and remain the image of this saint for all to believe.

B A C K G R O U N D__ _ _ _ _

Born as Camille to an older couple, Pierre and Berenice, living in Port Morilles, she was an only child due to the general infertility that her parents had. Port Morilles, Camille’s birthplace, was a well established one on the southeastern coast of Perrence. It prospered on the back of mushroom trade to foreign nations which allowed the town to be relatively well off compared to others of its size in Perrence. Her parents were commoners though her father as a leatherworker, afforded him a slightly higher standing as a craftsman, it still did not benefit Camille in any obvious way. The town, however, did.

With the wealth afforded by healthy trade routes, Port Morilles managed to afford a stone wall to close off the small peninsula. This pushed people to build up and inside the walls are three to four story buildings to jam as much population as possible in the safety of those walls. Port Morilles was bustling but protected from any Eskandr incursions leading to low stress inside the walls.

Camille remembers her childhood here fondly with the community being very supportive and uplifting. Her parents were surprisingly aloof towards her in contrast. Some of the other children her age would tease her about not being a boy as that had something to do with family inheritance but it just struck Camille as odd that they would treat their only child like that.

She was fairly quiet and independent as a child. When her mother would finally release her from daily choirs or when her father would stink up their whole floor with the smells of rotted hide, she’d slip away into Port Morilles. Sometimes she’d even be content just walking along the beach outside the walls on her own, letting the sand run through her toes.

Yet with any paradise, came with coveting eyes and it would be in her sixteenth year that Camille would find out exactly who the Eskandr were. Up to this point, she had heard the stories and terrors that these raiders would bring but they never tried to take on the walls of Port Morrilles. However, one Eskandr raid chieftain had finally been tempted enough.

That day, Camille remembers vividly as that changed who she was going to become.

They came with a two-pronged attack. A few longships harried the coastal wall while an advanced party would land out of view and go for the landside gate. With the defenders focused on the seaside, there were few to offer an intimidating resistance on the landside. At the time, Camille just remembered having to run back home past the seaside gate. The shouts of orders above, howls and growls of the Eskandr unseen. She was terrified as her parents pulled her inside. Her father stood at the door to know what was going on. He might have even wanted to help from the way he was pacing back and forth. That’s how she heard it.

”The other gate! The other gate! They are going to break through!” One of the sentries from the landside gate said, running past her home towards the seaside gate. Camille didn’t realize what that meant before her father and mother were ushering her, pulling her even, to run for Lord Gabriel’s keep. It was only when they were running through the streets did she realize what was going to happen if they got in.

She prayed in her head, desperately for the guards to hold the landside gate. They had to. There was no other way for everyone here to escape. Among the scrambling through the tight streets, Camille would catch sight of a guard. Then another. Followed by another. They weren’t headed towards the landside gate. They were leaving it, headed towards the keep.

Camille’s heart dropped at the sight. Her whole life had been in this town, was really going to be destroyed just like in the stories she heard about? Why in the gods’ good graces allow this? She felt tears well in her eyes as pictured everything she loved burned to ash. How was that fair?

When life looked darkest, did a light shine through.

Through a gap between buildings, sunlight shined through. The rays piercing the smoke of a panicked fire caused by an accidental out of control fire at the blacksmith. The light rays hit and lit up the head of the blacksmith’s hammer, laying there on the road in front of Camille and for a brief moment the light reflected off of the metal head and flashed in Camille’s eyes, blinding her.

In that briefest of moments, she saw both forms of Dami carrying the banner of Lord Gabriel’s blue dove and the blacksmith’s hammer and crested on his chest was a golden lily, blooming. He reached out offering Camille to take both the banner and the hammer and then he looked towards the gate before vanishing and she was back in the street, kneeling before the hammer.

In the panic, her parents had gotten ahead of her and the whole town was on the verge of chaos but the gods had told Camille how to prevent that and as terrified as she was, she would not let her heart burn.

She picked up the hammer and found Lord Gabriel’s banner getting a metal cap attached to its pole for planting into the ground. Another sign of Dami’s will! Picking the banner up with the other hand, she began to run towards the gate. Other than a few curious glances, she wasn’t seeing anyone willing to follow her. She prayed to Dami in her head as she ran, reciting over and and over again.

“Let others find courage and follow! Let others find courage and follow!”

Over and over again she repeated this mantra, focusing on it. It took her one more minute, nearly at the gate, when she realized a mass of people were following her, arming themselves. They were going to fight for their town! Her heart! Her god!

Camille led the host of guards and people towards the gate just as it was slammed open by the horde of Eskandr. The sight it must have been to see for the Eskandr hesitated and that was enough encouragement for the surge of her kin to charge. The gateway was filled with people fighting blocking her from engaging, all for but one.

There was a large enough break in the gate from earlier that one of the Eskandr, a smaller boy maybe a little older than Camille, had slipped in. He emerged from a building in complete shock to the change on the streets. Nobody had noticed him, save for Camille and she felt compelled to charge. He noticed her, shakedly drawing his sword and swinging wildly.

“Spare me and let me swing your hammer! Spare me and let me swing your hammer!”

The Eskandr’s sword swung high, surprise in his face for a moment before she swung her hammer down on his face with such a force, the skull fractured and the fight was over an instant. She collapsed as the adrenaline wore off.

Awakening in the evening, she was greeted by Lord Gabriel himself in his keep. Word of her valor to lead the defense of the landgate had reached even his ears and that it would be wrong to deny the gods their wish to let Camille lead the people in their defense. She was knighted and spent nearly a year in training and running with levy to defend the shores of Perrence from any who would do Her harm!

In Virtue, Justice

I N V E N T O R Y__ _ _ _ _

Andromnegal, the Blessed Blade of the Archangel Forticand
A Legendary Sword fueled by the determination of its wielder (1d20-5d5)
Platemail, tabard of her colors, greatsword, shield, shortsword, Perrin (her horse), her banner mounted on a pole, holy symbol of Dami, symbol of the lily flower (Fleur-de-lis), bag of sand from Port Morilles

T H E G I F T__ _ _ _ _

Unmeasured (~Third Wheel) | Thunder + Force + Essence | Unbeknownst

Camille’s relationship with her Gift is complicated. She doesn’t know she has one, for good reason, and would at this point choose not to believe she has the Gift. All her channeling comes from her strong belief that her prayers are being answered by the Pentad. There are some important parameters for her channeling to be successful in this unorthodox expression. First, that she is still channeling like any other Gifted, she just doesn’t see it that way. Second, her intention must be clearly defined in her mind and must be obtainable by means of magic. Third, her capability of channeling in this manner is limited by at least half her true potential.

The benefit is that Camille is able to channel without really knowing how to channel. She will use her Gift to manipulate attributes to make her a more efficient fighter passively at this point. For example, she will pray to the gods to lighten her burden when feeling the weight of her armor and she will channel Thunder Magic to repel her armor to make it feel light. This is a spell she has channeled almost everyday for the past year and requires no more than a quick prayer to make it so. Something new and complex may require her to pray several phrases repeatedly to find the right focus to successfully channel.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Blessed Saint: Whether you believe the gods blessed Camille or not, reality shows that Camille is often on the advantageous side of fortune. She doesn’t know she has the Gift but managing to channel magic unintentionally through her singular focused prayers regardless is evidence to that point.
❖ Legendary: The legend also prescribes a certain reverence from commonfolk, at least those that know her tale. Few women wear platemail, fewer still are younger than themselves. She is easily recognizable for all the good and bad that will come with that.
❖ Communal: She adored the closeness in the community of her hometown. Everyone tried to get along with one another, probably due to the relative abundance of her hometown. She is willing to give her kin the benefit of the doubt and has a patience for others. Up until they class with her ideals, anyway.
❖ Conviction: At the center of Camille’s driving motivation is her belief that the good should prosper. Good people deserve happy lives and she has always held this in her heart. After being ascended by her vision, she is absolutely sure that the good deserve the gifts of the world while the evil should be judged. The gods told her so, after all.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S__ _ _ _ _

❖ Reliance: If you take away her Gift, she is a 17 year old girl and incapable of swinging a ten pound greatsword while dressed in full armor for collapsing in exhaustion. She needs to channel to make her armor lighter so she can walk, sword lighter so she can swing, and mood enhancement to keep people fighting!
❖ Jocasta’s Box: If opened, you reveal to Camille that she has the Gift after all revealing the extent of all the new potential she can reach. This comes at the cost of shaking her belief, if you can convince her in the first place. A belief that has, successfully up to this point, led to her channeling magic to enhance her abilities. You shake her belief, she doubts her abilities and then she might not be able to reliably channel again. Is it better to open the box or keep it closed?
❖ Naivety: Camille still holds the world in a positive light having only seen some of the nastiness that the world holds. She has killed her first person (after crying about it later that night and for the next several nights) and has ventured around Perrence this past year to see more of the world. She believes she has everything figured out but as she explores more, both the world and the depths people are willing to go, there will be events that shake her significantly.
❖ Uneducated: Being a commoner at birth afforded her no luxury of a proper education. Although this makes it easier for her to find faith in the gods, it limits her abilities to comprehend new concepts, understand strategies, or realize connections as fast as others around. It also affects her ability to relate and interact with nobility.

C O L O U R C O D E & O T H E R__ _ _ _ _

❖ 0072bc