| Logs |
2010 September 03
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Taps Logs |
Enter Chanticleer
Many years ago...
Roy was young, but not as young as he seemed. To the untrained eye, he was perhaps twenty-three. In reality, he was thirty. Like many Taps, he'd aged somewhat normally through adolescence and his teens, but then it began to slow. It wasn't anything he could really enumerate. It wasn't six months for every year or four months or eight. It was just... slower. And the older he got, the more it seemed to slow. He suspected that he was going to live probably past a hundred... if he didn't get himself killed in what he had planned.He'd been with Geraldine for five years. He'd come up the Big Muddy after his Jacqueline and his bebes had been killed in retaliation against him. He wanted to get away from the life that had caused that, but he couldn't quite quell the anger, so he'd taken jobs that would put him in danger. First, he worked as a mercenary, hiring himself out to rulers and would-be rulers to either protect their territory or to take territory.
Geraldine had been someone re-taking territory. Her father had been Mayor of Kansas City and then there had been a coup. The people that had taken the city on the Misery River were not concerned with strengthening it. They were concerned with taking everything they could get from it. The old Mayor had had quite a personal fortune that he managed to escape with and that he passed on to his surviving daughter. When Geraldine grew up, she started amassing a force to take back the city.
She was not a nice woman. She was forceful and she was passionate and she was better than the alternative. Her father had been quite canny and had known that his beautiful daughter would be able to use her looks along with her razor sharp mind to do incredible things. When it came time to make her move, she used all of that.
Roy had hired on because the pay was good and he understood that sometimes even a strict ruler was better than a rapacious one.
Sometime after about six months of service, Geraldine had noticed him. Roy was fierce in battle and threw himself into the rest of life with an abandon that was nearly maniacal. Only his friend Pierce, who had known him from one of his first campaigns and had followed him ever since, knew that it was in part because the king-to-be was trying to fill his life with things that might erase the pain of his family's loss: drinking, carousing... and spending time with quite a few willing women. They were all options.
That fierceness and what looked like joie de vivre had drawn Geraldine. It didn't hurt that the seemingly young -- he looked perhaps twenty at the time -- man was very easy on the eyes. Handsome face. Lovely body. Dark eyes and hair that matched his dark skin. Roy's Creole heritage helped with that. The mixture of black, Spanish, white, and what once had been called Native American gave him high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He wasn't in the least feminine but there was something about him that was beautiful as well as handsome.
Geraldine had invited the water Tap to her quarters after one decisively won battle. Roy had been happy to say yes. She was breathtakingly gorgeous and willing and it couldn't hurt to curry favor with the boss-woman. Both of them had thought it would be a one-night stand. A nice, carnal, heated interlude and then back to the war.
They had been wrong. The first night together had been wanton and lustful and there was an undeniable heat between them. Roy was forceful and playful in just the right ratio and Geraldine was unfettered and sultry. Where he was water, she was fire -- and that, of course, made steam.
It was less than a month before Roy had become Geraldine's constant companion and had moved from mercenary to lieutenant. The river-rat knew a lot about guerilla tactics and that was important when you were fighting in the wilderness. It could be important when you were fighting in a city as well. Knowing how to use cover and to not be seen could be a critical edge when your force was smaller than the enemy's.
With Roy's help, Geraldine's army began to make more inroads than it had been. They also began to get recruits from inside the city when Roy suggested that some of the young and fiery soldiers -- male and female -- begin to make appearances in bars and other places that the disaffected might gather.
The campaign lasted more than a year and the fighting was fierce. There were losses on both sides and a lot of bloodshed, but that's what happens in any war. Roy made sure that there was remembrance of all those that died in Geraldine's cause. That, along with her natural charisma, made sure that her people were very loyal.
Once the city had been won back and Geraldine had become Mayor, Roy stayed with her. She had been happy to have a handsome young man on her arm and he'd been arrogant enough to be proud to be the chosen of the head honcho. At her side, he learned court politics and schmoozing. Roy was far from stupid and he was naturally charming, so he took to it well, even if his natural snarkiness sometimes won him some enemies. There was more than one duel and the water Tap won almost all of them. The only one he lost was to first blood and he'd thrown it on purpose at Geraldine's request. She'd wanted to keep the good offices of the man that had made the challenge. It had stung Roy's pride, but he had done it to keep her happy.
He wasn't in love with her, but he was passionate about her, and she about him. The sex was some of the best either of them had ever had. The rest of the relationship was passionate too, but it meant they were at loggerheads much of the time. When they fought, it was explosive. Both Roy and Geraldine were prideful and both of them had a jealous streak. Both of them had occasional dalliances and that was often a source of contention. Geraldine did it in order to make Roy jealous. Roy did it in vengeance.
Still, they worked well together as essentially queen and consort.
Roy was still a trusted lieutenant when it came to martial matters because he was effective. There were occasional incursions by factions wanting to control the port. Sometimes there were crime syndicates in the city that wanted more than a discreet cut. Once in a while there was even a sortie to expand the city's influence.
In the field, Roy was fearless... or at least it looked like fearlessness to anyone that didn't know him -- and almost no one actually knew him beyond being the Mayor's lover and one of her military advisors. For his part, Roy's right hand was Pierce. Pierce knew that Roy's Tapping ability was beyond what anyone, even Geraldine, knew. And Roy knew that Pierce wanted badly for his mild Tapping ability to be stronger. The chirurgeon saw in the future king the possibility of real greatness. He was the one that saw that Roy personally checked on every soldier wounded. He was the one that saw Roy making sacrifices to Damballa in private and lighting candles in public for the dead. He was the one that knew Roy kept locks of his wife's and children's hair in a small pouch that he carried in his pocket.
Pierce was the only one that saw Roy's apparent fearlessness for what it really was -- a death wish.
The healing Tap had stitched up wound after wound for Roy, though Pierce always worried about them. It didn't get truly bad until O'Reilly sent a contingent to try to take the city. The gangster had decided that he needed more control of major ports. He had also decided to go specifically for the ones ruled by women. He had said in his smug way that he was "re-assessing Kansas City's potential under competent leadership." The invading army was quickly finding out just how competent Geraldine was. It was not going well for the interlopers.
Roy had come to Pierce with a nasty wound on his bicep from a bowie knife. The former river-rat hadn't even known he wanted to be a king yet. He'd just known that he was going to take vengeance for his wife's death by personally killing as many of O'Reilly's mercenary officers as he could.
As Pierce stitched up the wound on Roy's biceps, the chirurgeon had grumbled, "Rattler, we all know you have balls the size of church bells, but do you have to prove it in every fight?"
Roy drawled, "Hell, Pierce, ain't tryin'a prove nuttin', me. Jest doan givva damn if I get hurt."
The chirugeon slapped his young friend on the back of the head, "Well, I give a fuck... and the next time you come in here with a wound caused by sheer stupid, I'm having you grounded!"
Roy glowered at Pierce, not quite sulking, "Ain't a kid, you."
Pierce growled, "Then quit acting like one." He leaned his hip against one of the tables in the tent, arms crossed, "I know you miss your family, but Jacqueline won't thank you for getting yourself killed."
Roy's eyes went flat as he put a hand over the newly-stitched gash, "Dat a shit t'ing t'do, you."
Pierce didn't flinch, "Yeah. It is, but it's true and the only way to get your attention. None of them would want you throwing your life away. You want vengeance? Fine. I'll back you to my last breath, but I won't watch you commit suicide."
Roy glared at the chirurgeon for a moment, but then his face went thoughtful, "Could live wid vengeance." He grinned fiercely, "Godda win dis ting first, t'ough. Den we see 'bout... how dat prick put it? Re-assessin' Baton Rouge's potential unner competent leadership." He quoted the warlord that had declared war on Geraldine of Kansas City as well as on St. Louis's Queen, by stating a woman was unfit to lead.
With that, the plan had formed for the passionate young Creole to take his vengeance in a bigger and less self-destructive way. Roy had only left Baton Rouge because it was being controlled by the man that had destroyed his family. Now he had decided he was going home and he was going to clean house. Five years with Geraldine was enough. She was beautiful and she had a razor wit and she was very fun in bed... and he still didn't love her. He still loved Jacqueline. It was time to stop running.
The first conversation about it had turned into an argument. Roy had told Geraldine what he wanted to do and asked for her help. Geraldine had called him a silly boy and pointed out that he had a city right there to help rule.
That had been exactly the wrong thing to say. Roy had his pride and he knew good and damned well that he could be more than he was. The seed had been planted and it would eventually become something beautiful and strong and sustaining to his people.
The fight had been explosive. There had been screaming and name-calling and actual throwing of things by Geraldine. Roy may have been vicious in his words, but he would never strike a woman in a fight like this. The battlefield was different.
There had been a brief reconciliation after that. The sex had been amazing in the way that it can be when there's anger as well as lust. In other words: very satisfying physically and leaving an enormous hole in your soul.
It was the beginning of the end.
Over the next six months, Geraldine tried alternately arguing and wheedling -- but all her gambits just made Roy more and more determined to win his city back. The thought had brought on his old love of The Big Muddy, which he had thought of as his Lady since his Tapping ability had manifested. The Misery was a beautiful river, but it was not his river. Kansas City was wonderful, but it was not his city.
Roy tried asking for help and Geraldine refused. She would not commit her troops to what she thought was a doomed fight. When she did that, Roy shamelessly went behind her back and appealed to the leaders of Chicago, St. Louis, and Memphis.
All of them had agreed that O'Reilly needed to be deposed because he was killing trade up and down the major rivers -- so they pledged assistance. That angered Geraldine further, and the arguments had gotten more heated with Geraldine being dismissive and Roy being outraged at the way she disparaged him.
In the end, he'd left with two hundred of her people choosing freely to follow him, and Pierce at his right hand. It would be years before the two rulers could become diplomatic partners again. Geraldine's pride would never allow her to admit that she had horribly underestimated her former lover and that she missed him terribly.
For Roy's part, he looked on his years with Geraldine as a learning experience -- and resolved to never have a consort or queen. His heart still belonged to his dead wife, and he believed it always would.
He took his city from O'Reilly and personally put the murderous son of a bitch to the sword. He settled in and began to build his reputation. All the lessons he learned about diplomacy and politics were put to good use, and his native swagger and charm made him a romantic figure to a certain set of people... and that is how it would remain for almost twenty years.
Until his second love appeared in his life...
Today, Baton Rouge has taken the place of New Orleans as the queen city of the Mississippi Delta mostly because the Delta has moved so far inland. The divine and vulgar, the beautiful and grotesque have all moved north; only salvagers and savages inhabit the ruins of cities around Lake Pontchartrain. Since it is one of the few safe crossings of the broad and temperamental Mississippi river, the City of the Red Sceptre has developed into a major hub of transcontinental travel. It is watched over currently by King Roy, descendant of no royalty whatsoever, who carved out his rulership using cunning, diplomacy and not a few clandestine killings.
King Roy's public face is one of debonair sophistication and generosity. In private, he is more ruthless. He wants his city to prosper and grow. Because he is not stupid and he has enemies, the king has a personal bodyguard. Because he knows that his city prospers on the reputation it took from New Orleans all those years ago, his personal guards are always somewhat unusual. Be they albino, fae, Taps or what have you, they always stand out. King Roy is also rather enchanted with Chanticleer - or at least the idea of him. The human didn't simply hire the fae for his exotic looks; he also had Chanticleer audition. The fight was spectacular, and the king loves the idea of having a sidhe knight at his back. He doesn't actually know what that means.
Chanticleer is wearing human armor as he stands a bit to the side of the dais that King Roy -- inwardly the fae has to giggle at the redundancy of that name, and thinks of him privately as RoiRoy -- sits upon. The armor is plain but functional, spruced up a bit with some enamel and paint. It's uncomfortable, though, and heavy; there'd be no way he'd wear anything like this on Chevrefoil, his riding stag. Still, RoiRoy has enemies, which makes for a much more exciting occupation than he would normally like, and the beaten armor -- a hand-me-down beneath the new enamel -- has helped a few times. And his sword, a curved sabre, is still good.
Chanticleer most assuredly, however, does not like wearing this armor. It's mostly leather but there are metal parts to it, particularly the breastplate. There's a layer of leather between him and the steel but he sometimes feels like it's an iron maiden just waiting to spring spikes. Ew. RoyRoi is paying a little extra for him to wear the armor and match his other bodyguards, but Chanti is slowly coming to the decision that no job is worth wearing this much cold iron.
Chanticleer wasn't particularly fond of the audition; he appreciates the need to demonstrate ability to a liege- er, to a new employer, but he felt more like he was providing entertainment rather than a demonstration of his skills. He's also well aware of the king's tendency to try to put everyone -- everyone -- off balance and at a disadvantage to him. At first it was a fascinating lesson in cunning, but over time Chanticleer's noticed it as being less cunning and more banal. Little tricks like rearranging appointment times, use of lighting and colors, ranging all the way up to -- or rather down to -- simple brute intimidation.
King Roy also takes quite an interest in regular travelers through his city, and he charges a toll. Single travelers can negotiate with the gatekeepers. Caravans, troupes of entertainers, and other wagon trains must negotiate with the King or his representatives. It's because of this rule that Suraksha finds herself having to clean off the trail dust and bring herself into the presence of His Majesty, King Roy. Suraksha doesn't mind cleaning up -- she's fairly fastidious about cleanliness as it is. Playing the diplomatic game is less of a pleasure for her, however, especially since the petty rulers of these little fiefdoms often have the manners of children.
Suraksha dresses with care, choosing a fashion that highlights her somewhat exotic looks. She knows that appeals to "King" Roy, and she's willing to use a wide variety of tools to get the effect she wants. When she is dressed and ready to go, she looks magnificent: a shimmering silk sari wraps her small body, and the faint chiming of golden ankle bells accompanies every step. Her green-gold eyes look even larger when outlined with kohl, and her lips are a rich, dark red. Upon arrival at Roy's domicile, she has her white camel kneel, then gracefully accepts a hand as she rises to her feet from the elaborately decorated saddle. She has but one person with her: the PackMaster is large and sturdy and shaggy -- and loyal. He'll keep a good eye on her mount while she's busy indoors.
King Roy's court is held in his palace. The compound started out as a stately old antebellum mansion and was added onto from there. Outbuildings and gardens abound. A flock of groundskeepers are employed to keep it exactly the way the king likes it, and the way the king likes it is immaculate. There are birds and animals running loose on the property, giving some of the more forest-like gardens the air of wilderness if one doesn't look too closely. Amongst the animals are deer, elk, wolflike dogs, and a couple of large mountain lions. The dogs and the pumas are kept in enclosures that are more to keep people safe than to safeguard the animals. Suraksha is met at the gate by a chamberlain dressed in crisply pressed livery. He bows to her and says, "Madam. Whom may I say is calling?"
Suraksha murmurs with a faint smile, "Please let your master know Sulochana Jyotsana Suraksha Sesha of San Francisco wishes to call upon him." Her doe-eyed smile widens a little as the dogs howl and gallop up and down the edge of their pens, while the mountain lions snarl and scream restlessly from within their artificial lairs.
The chamberlain consults a list and purses his lips, "Does madam have an appointment with his majesty?"
Suraksha waves a small hand, and multiple bracelets flash and glitter prettily on her wrist. "We are acquaintances of old. It is at his insistence that I call upon him now, before my caravan passes through the city."
The chamberlain examines his list, squinting his eyes. He appears to be considering carefully, but Suraksha knows very well that Joe set up this visit ahead of time. He's a very conscientious advance man and his foresight has become more than weather-related over the years. Eventually the chamberlain sighs and says, "Ahh. Here you are. You are late."
Suraksha raises an eyebrow and murmurs, "Surely not."
The chamberlain looks down at her over the rims of his spectacles, "You are later than His Majesty would like. Still, I suppose you can enter and await His Majesty's pleasure."
Suraksha raises an amused eyebrow again, "I think not. I am actually slightly early, according to the appointment my lead-man made. Therefore you may either show me in to my appointment with King Roy, or you may explain to him later, when I return, that you refused me entry."
The Chamberlain sniffs disdainfully and turns, "Follow me." Suraksha smiles faintly and does so. She sighs softly; pettiness bores her, and Roy's hirelings are extremely petty.
When Suraksha arrives, the king is holding court again, in the old-fashioned way. Petitioners come before the king to present their offers or ask boons or just to say they met with a king. There are musicians playing quiet jazz music in one corner and the lighting is low everywhere but right over the throne and just in front of it and it is a throne one Roy had made especially for this space. Carved of oak and pine and polished to a high shine, it looks down on the room around him. Chanticleer finds it all rather plain and banal, though of course he would never tell RoiRoy that. It's not like a fey court. Still, there's a subdued elegance to it, a simplicity of color and lines that's agreeable in its own way. That's offset by the courtiers with whom King Roy has surrounded himself.
The chamberlain steps through the main doors of the throne room with Suraksha on his heels. He waits for a moment when King Roy isn't speaking and uses a felt mallet to ring a small but very resonant bell. The attention of everyone in the room turns to the door and the chamberlain announces in a loud, carrying voice, "Sulochana Jyotsana Suraksha Sesha of San Francisco seeks audience with His Majesty, King Roy of the City of the Red Sceptre." The Red Sceptre itself is hung above the throne. It's wrapped in gold wire and has a brilliant ruby at its tip. The fact that the chamberlain gets her name right hints that he knew it all along. Suraksha smiles faintly again as she glances around... then decides she doesn't feel like waiting. She concentrates a bit, focusing her aura into splendidness, and changes her body language into the faint, not-quite-bored amusement of royalty coming to visit and dutifully and courteously admiring all Roy's pretty toys.
Suraksha lets her sex appeal nearly radiate around her. She figures any man who has such a huge, clear phallic symbol hung over him will like that. She paces calmly across the room, her bells chiming lightly in the silence. Her smile widens, and she holds out her hand as she mounts the stairs to the throne, "My dear Roy, how do you do? You are looking in excellent form!"
Chanticleer glances to the doorway, then does a double-take, brow arching. Oh, now. She would be right at home in a fey court! The poise, the grace, the body language... and more than just how she carries herself, he sees: the clothing, her eyes, her aura are all magnificent. It takes him a few moments, in fact, to realize she is, in fact, tailoring her aura. This is just an observation, though, and doesn't detract at all from her magnificence. However... he is a bodyguard, even if he's not fond of RoiRoy -- King Roy. So he straightens, remaining alert and glancing around just in case this splendid lady is providing (more than ample) distraction for something else.
The King watches Suraksha stalk across the room with clear appreciation. He is ruggedly handsome. In fact, he looks like someone might have drawn him up with that term in mind. Strong face, thick mustache and sideburns, thick wavy hair. Broad shoulders and slim hips. He is dressed in a pair of tailored black slacks and a white poet's shirt that shows off the top of his pectorals. On his feet he wears heavy boots with steel-capped toes. "My lady." He smirks as she comes up the dais, rather than waiting properly. The words come out "Mah lay-dee." "It's wonderful to see you again." 'Won-dah-ful' 'a-gin.'
Suraksha beams as he takes her hand, leaning to kiss each cheek in the usual manner for this region. When she straightens she raises an eyebrow and smiles, "So, I heard mention of dinner during our meeting! Were you simply teasing wickedly, or shall I be treated to your company and your cook's truly excellent -- and spicy! -- table fare once more?" Suraksha has always felt some regret that the "ruggedly handsome" ones seem far too keenly aware of it. Roy is indeed pretty... but what a shame he's so ugly inside! She has also taken a careful and lazy-eyed glance around the room as she approached. She's noticed the new acquisition standing behind and to Roy's left, just beside him and behind the throne, as well as a few others.
Roy laughs and says, "I'd be delighted if you would, darlin'. He says you're one of the few that challenge his talents. Says it has somethin' to do with your ancestry." The people around the room are the pretty people Roy likes to surround himself with. Besides Chanticleer, there are five other guards. One is on the opposite side of the throne, four others deployed around the room. They all look splendid in their armor and they all look deadly in their way. The men and women here to petition the king, or just to be seen, are dressed in all manner of finery, and they're all whispering about the splendid woman that has appeared.
Suraksha chuckles at that, patting Roy's hand before releasing it, "But my dear, he is a joy!" She tilts her head to grin roguishly sideways at the man, waving an expressive hand, "Were he not so pleased to be in your employ, I assure you I would gladly hire him away." She sighs in mock sadness, "So few today understand true spiciness. It's not just adding more jalapenyos, you know? Tsk."
There are a couple of non-humans in the room, and Sura knows better than to try and read a big group of courtiers like this she's not likely to get any pleasant surprises. A quick scan around the room shows Suraksha mostly what she expected to see. The guards are mostly very physical types, with their energy coming mostly from the earth and concentrated in the lower chakras. The courtiers are likewise very earth-centered, though the tints of the chakras tell her it has more to do with money than brawn for them. Roy is no surprise, either. Base chakra, sexual chakra, will chakra and his third eye are all very strong. He also has no problem in expressing himself. It's in compassion and connection to spirit that he is dreadfully weak.
The new guard, however, is something slightly unexpected. Chanticleer is in his 'real' appearance, that is, as a fey knight less his armor. His skin is clear with a faint iridescent sheen like that of bright feathers. His hair is less like 'hair' and more like iridescent black down, short against his skull. His eyes are a brilliant, vibrant orange, with large pupils very reminiscent of a bird's. His features are rather sharp, as well, and likewise somewhat birdlike.
The new guard gleams in Suraksha's senses. He is definitely fey and he is unexpected for one of Roy's guards. Like the brilliant sheen of his skin, the twin serpents of energy twine up and down his spine, flowing very strongly both ways. His will chakra, of course, is quite strong, as is his third-eye. His heart, however, gleams like an emerald to her inner eye this is not your everyday bodyguard. The other guard, a squat, broad creature with black shiny eyes and a heavy pelt of coarse hair, is all base and sex and will. The others are all but dark. Suraksha wonders perplexedly what the tall, slender man is doing in Roy's employ. Maybe he's new? He certainly isn't the usual self-centered boor Roy hires as bodyguard.
Roy laughs a laugh that would seem real if one didn't know him better, "I doubt he'd suit your tastes. He's mighty picky about where he sleeps at night, and with whom. But we'd both love to see you at the table tonight."
Suraksha rolls her eyes amusedly, "He can sleep consensually with whomever he wishes, as long as he continues that marvelous cooking! I know better than to interfere with artisans at work, after all." Her eyes twinkle as she adds, "I accept, with pleasure!" Leaning slightly to give a confidential tone to her words, she adds, "You know that's why I always have my lead-man make late afternoon appointments, don't you? For the marvelous food!"
Roy leans in as well and gives her a roguish smile, "And here I thought it was so you could get an invite to stay the night! Speakin' of, do you need some time to freshen up?" He raises his left hand, motioning Chanticleer forward. Chanticleer suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at Roy's commentary. So unlike a way to court a lady. Though he suspects 'courting' isn't on the man's mind. He jolts himself to alertness, and steps forward at the gesture.
Suraksha is far too professional to let her aura slip, but somewhere deep inside she knows that later she'll be ready for a nice hot bath after this. She finds Roy tedious. She raises an amused eyebrow, but courteously says nothing. Roy says, "Sulochana, this is Chanticleer. He'll show you to a guest room and watch your back for you on the way." To Chanti, he says, "You take very good care of this lady. She's a friend of mine."
Chanticleer inclines his head in greeting to Suraksha, and walks with her towards her room. He's as alert as he can be; he gets the impression the lady can easily handle herself -- she had RoiRoy eating out of her hand there -- but it would not do at all to have any sort of attack on her person so much as scratch her. Very bad for hospitality, that. Something he takes seriously, and Roy... not so much.
Suraksha smiles and nods politely to the tall, slender man, following him out of the room. She glances over her shoulder at Roy just before she's out of sight, twinkling attractively at him for an instant -- then she turns the corner and is gone. Roy isn't quite so uncouth as to lick his lips or anything so blatant, but it's obvious he was definitely watching her walk away. He grins at her when he's caught and touches his fingers to his temple in a little salute.
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