Post by Alden J. Blethen on Nov 7, 2010 14:15:42 GMT -8
BANG, BANG, BANG, the gavel fell, silencing the court. Up in his high backed and delicately scrolled chair sat the fine faced judge, His Excellency Lord Tennyson ap Gwydion. His fine and delicate features contrasting with the rage he barely held in check. The room was full of spectators and witnesses, Pookas siting side by side with Red Caps. Nockers brushing elbows with Boggans, Troll standing guard with satyrs. In this court they were united by their hated of one man.
“Bring forth the condemned,” boomed the voice of the judge. Three trolls and a Red Cap, all bound by oaths ancient and mighty (this was remarked upon at the beginning of the trial) brought forth the Sidhe.
His bearing still held the grace of his kith, long and graceful as a dancer. His finery was torn and grubby and the crowd stirred in agitation, not even his month of imprisonment had stooped his back. His hands and feet hobbled by leather-bound Iron, the Nocker that had made those swore he would never work in the same forge and had left the Kingdom, as the rumor mill said.
Again the Judge’s hammer fell and the room became suddenly silent. His cold, hard stare fell to the man. It was said that even the mightiest of Red Cap bullies had quavered under the relentless stare of the Lord. And so it was true for this sidhe.
“Baron William Blackmoor ap Fiona, called Silverspear, and captain of the Raging Boars free company, Knight of the realm and protector of Lady Margaret Lillywhite ap Fiona, you stand accused of Murder-With-Iron, Oathbreaking, Disloyalty to House, Court and Kith. We have heard the impassioned arguments of the prosecution and the logical pleas of your defense, we have been shown evidence and counter-evidence. Do you have anything to add before we render our verdict?” rumbled the Tennyson.
“No my lord, I know that I have justice on my side,” His high, clear voice a stark opposite to the Grump’s own.
“Then we shall proceed. On the charge of Disloyalty, we find you guilty, on the charge of Oathbreaking we find you guilty, on the charge of murder-with-iron we find you not guilty, but in stead rule that you are guilty of Dereliction of Duty and and willful negligence.” A stunned silence filled the court. Commoner and Noble alike had been darkly hoping for a guilty verdict. William’s mouth hung open loosely and a stunned shock filled his gut. “Before we render Judgement her due, do you have anything to say?”
William’s silence rang through the court. Tennyson nodded and continued, “As you have been found guilty of crimes dark and vulgar, an affront to the Dreaming and all the laws we hold dear, we would sentence you to death were you a lesser man. However, due to your service to the realm in both peace and war, we do here-by mitigate the sentence. You will be stripped of rank, title and property, cast from your House, and are banished from these lands, never to return upon pain of death by Cold Iron. Any here who give you aid will be seen as traitors, and will be judged as proper. As you wander the lands outside of this domain you will be know as the traitor you are and be called ‘Dreamsbane’. I lay upon you this Geas: Should you be asked what you have done, or who you are you will be forced to answer as this court has found, changing nothing nor softening the blow! You will explain your name and you situation, and when entering a new land. You bear the mark of an Oathbreaker already and so you words may not be trusted, we shall draw up a document to ensure the truth be known. No hand shall put you out of your misery save what come by nature, and you shall live a long and extended life, one of our Namers will see to that!” Suddenly cheers filled the court supporting the Judge’s verdict and jeering the condemned. Three times the gavel fell and the court fell silent again.
William was lead from the courtroom, no longer walking with pride. Just as he was about to leave, he spun on his heel, "Your Excellency! I ask for the boon you gave me for winning last months tourney! I as to be allowed to keep my spear!"
Lord Tennysen glowered at William, still hating the wretch that stood before him. "Granted, now leave this place, and may you live forever."
“Bring forth the condemned,” boomed the voice of the judge. Three trolls and a Red Cap, all bound by oaths ancient and mighty (this was remarked upon at the beginning of the trial) brought forth the Sidhe.
His bearing still held the grace of his kith, long and graceful as a dancer. His finery was torn and grubby and the crowd stirred in agitation, not even his month of imprisonment had stooped his back. His hands and feet hobbled by leather-bound Iron, the Nocker that had made those swore he would never work in the same forge and had left the Kingdom, as the rumor mill said.
Again the Judge’s hammer fell and the room became suddenly silent. His cold, hard stare fell to the man. It was said that even the mightiest of Red Cap bullies had quavered under the relentless stare of the Lord. And so it was true for this sidhe.
“Baron William Blackmoor ap Fiona, called Silverspear, and captain of the Raging Boars free company, Knight of the realm and protector of Lady Margaret Lillywhite ap Fiona, you stand accused of Murder-With-Iron, Oathbreaking, Disloyalty to House, Court and Kith. We have heard the impassioned arguments of the prosecution and the logical pleas of your defense, we have been shown evidence and counter-evidence. Do you have anything to add before we render our verdict?” rumbled the Tennyson.
“No my lord, I know that I have justice on my side,” His high, clear voice a stark opposite to the Grump’s own.
“Then we shall proceed. On the charge of Disloyalty, we find you guilty, on the charge of Oathbreaking we find you guilty, on the charge of murder-with-iron we find you not guilty, but in stead rule that you are guilty of Dereliction of Duty and and willful negligence.” A stunned silence filled the court. Commoner and Noble alike had been darkly hoping for a guilty verdict. William’s mouth hung open loosely and a stunned shock filled his gut. “Before we render Judgement her due, do you have anything to say?”
William’s silence rang through the court. Tennyson nodded and continued, “As you have been found guilty of crimes dark and vulgar, an affront to the Dreaming and all the laws we hold dear, we would sentence you to death were you a lesser man. However, due to your service to the realm in both peace and war, we do here-by mitigate the sentence. You will be stripped of rank, title and property, cast from your House, and are banished from these lands, never to return upon pain of death by Cold Iron. Any here who give you aid will be seen as traitors, and will be judged as proper. As you wander the lands outside of this domain you will be know as the traitor you are and be called ‘Dreamsbane’. I lay upon you this Geas: Should you be asked what you have done, or who you are you will be forced to answer as this court has found, changing nothing nor softening the blow! You will explain your name and you situation, and when entering a new land. You bear the mark of an Oathbreaker already and so you words may not be trusted, we shall draw up a document to ensure the truth be known. No hand shall put you out of your misery save what come by nature, and you shall live a long and extended life, one of our Namers will see to that!” Suddenly cheers filled the court supporting the Judge’s verdict and jeering the condemned. Three times the gavel fell and the court fell silent again.
William was lead from the courtroom, no longer walking with pride. Just as he was about to leave, he spun on his heel, "Your Excellency! I ask for the boon you gave me for winning last months tourney! I as to be allowed to keep my spear!"
Lord Tennysen glowered at William, still hating the wretch that stood before him. "Granted, now leave this place, and may you live forever."
