THE BRUCOLAC
COURT Unseelie.
TITLE Baron of Srathmarbh, Black Omen.
OCCUPATION Baron, drugs manufacturer, political thinker gods help him, Umibōzu captain.
ABLE TO FAST-TRAVEL Yes; puca.
RESIDENCE IN 2,701 Srathmarbh.
RESIDENCE IN 2,702 Srathmarbh.
MAJOR EVENTS
PUBLICATION OF THE REDDENED HILL
Being a Personal Account of the Battle of An Carn Ban... [ ✖ ]
ADOPTION DISCUSSION
"There is no one I would want to do it more." [ ✖ ]
COMPLETION OF THE SRATHMARBH SPIRE
Description [ ✖ ]
PUBLICATION OF THE GOVERNOR
A brief meditation on what and what not to do while holding public office. [ ✖ ]
BIRTH OF SHAMASH
Description [ ✖ ]
BIRTH OF ISHTAR
Description [ ✖ ]
RESCUE OF CHILDREN
Description [ ✖ ]
|
PLANS
By the time the timeskip ends, the Brucolac will be in a more stable position, his spire complete and the surrounding lands a buzzing centre of construction and commerce. He will have two children in the care of Alyosha Hazan.
SUMMARY OF KNOWN DETAILS
Beebins; daring rescue of beebins; becoming reluctantly published; stuff stuff stuff; seeing a scifi film and being the biggest nerd; building a wee town & preparing for ports & shipyards; maybe hunting cloudwhales; tsk'ing unhappily at the cult of the fox
TIMELINE OF EVENTS
| SPRING IN 2,701 (Mar, Apr, May) |
- MARCH - Publication of the Brucolac's The Reddened Hill: The Unseelie Triumph of An Càrn Bàn. Anonymous, though rumour suggests it was one of the Barons.
- MARCH - A long talk with Alyosha about adoption.
- APRIL 5TH - The Srathmarbh Spire is completed and the name 'Srathmarbh' finally begins to catch on. Construction workers are encouraged to stay and continue building on the town proper. Whispers abound of future, grander plans (the Brucolac himself ensures these whispers circulate). Various grants and start-up loans are offered to would-be business-owners.
- APRIL - Hunting cloudwhales for their precious floaty bones.
- MAY - Publication of The Governor. Anonymous/under penname.
- MAY - A run-down rural farmhouse west of Mair is chosen for the location at which to base the Brucolac & Dasha's growing drugs business.
- MAY - Aileas an Seabhac requests that the Brucolac act as her diplomat to help smoothe over tensions between the vampires and the elves.
- MAY - Those fucking swans. The Brucolac will scoop up a few and be seen to pour what wealth is gained from them straight back into Srathmarbh.
|
| SUMMER IN 2,701 (Jun, Jul, Aug) |
- JUNE - Two vampire entrepreneurs take advantage of the Brucolac's offered start-up loans and begin to create a printing press in Srathmarbh.
- JUNE - The Brucolac participates in the Treun summer tourney, in the Melee category! Yseult comes to watch; the rumours which have long abounded about the Brucolac's kept woman in Mair become noisier. The event ends terribly for them when, during the daytime, Yseult is attacked by copycats of the fox cult for her association with shardbearers.
- JULY - Perhaps it's the rich heat of the summer sun which the slakemoths respond to? Or the blood in the air. They wrap themselves up in cocoons and emerge terrible, but are manageable. Don't ask how.
- JULY - An attempt is made to feed one Mr Bones to the slakemoths.
- AUGUST - The Festival of Shadow.
|
| FALL IN 2,701 (Sept, Oct, Nov) |
- EARLY SEPTEMBER - The Brucolac is affected by the scrambling of the translation enchantment; he speaks some stilted Drabbish, and a whole heap of languages from his world, which are all totally useless to him. Expect terrible handwriting and a lot of gestures. Also expect one great big universally-understandable I TOLD YOU SO.
- SEPTEMBER - The Srathmarbh press is complete and ready for business! Grants for teachers and educators, or literate people wishing to become teachers and educators, are refined and more widely publicised.
- SEPTEMBER 29TH - Birth of Shamash, son of Verla.
- OCTOBER 3RD - Birth of Ishtar, daughter of Yseult.
- OCTOBER 5TH? - By the grace of the Unseelie monarchs, the children are returned, delivered safely to the arms of Alyosha Hazan.
- OCTOBER 25TH - 30TH - Samhain! An excuse to be naked with loved ones.
- NOVEMBER - Some of the escaped criminals are former employees of Mr Bones, out for vengeance or perhaps out for gainful employment now that Mr Bones is no longer quite the force he was. The Brucolac puts out feelers to ascertain various situations and deal with them appropriately.
|
| WINTER IN 2,701/2,702 (Dec, Jan, Feb) |
- DECEMBER - The Brucolac stays far away from the White Hart. No thanks. Srathmarbh will hold a fervent Yule celebration, which promises to become a tradition.
- JANUARY - Fuck, what do you mean the slakemoths bred? Oh fuck.
- FEBRUARY - Yseult causes controversy at the Ostara Festival by anonymously submitting a work named Blindeye, a great abstract mural of wild colours meant to be touched and stroked and stared at with unease. It is torched by a traditionalist. The Brucolac tries to use this to distract from possible re-emergence of elf/vampir tensions caused by the assassinations of elven artists.
|
| SPRING IN 2,702 (Mar, Apr) |
- DATE - Description
- DATE - Description
- DATE - Description
|
|
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vrykolakas) wrote2015-02-06 09:01 pm
no subject
"Easy, easy. Fuck. Let me take this. It will keep."
This was the cold, heavy corpse she grasped. He took it from her properly, trusting her to her own two feet for a moment. It was an elf, he saw, with no surprise but a sudden great shock of grief and an anticipatory exhaustion. This was going to get worse.
The power to mould golems of darkness was court-given, and his own tendency towards literally moulding them likely a limitation he placed on himself out of habit. Nonetheless, it helped him; he had always struggled with the kind of magic which seemed to bring something out of nothing without even a display of effort. Hands full, he kicked out at the darkness, ankle hooking about something—some shadow-gristly limb—with a twitch of his boot, a great spike-limbed creature came stumbling out into existence. He handed it the corpse, and it snatched it eagerly, engulfed it and loped off. It took three long, ungraceful strides in the direction of the tower before it vanished into its native shadow.
The Brucolac didn't stay to watch it go. He was wrapping an arm tight about Paloma, glancing up to the sky. "Acca—"
The shadows behind him caught fire: shook themselves, and hardened into the shape of a horse. "Here," Accalon snapped.
"Look to your kin," the Brucolac said, "please."
And then his attention was fully on his own. While Accalon hissed and muttered in a strange old language, nudged uneasily at the injured Teague, the Brucolac prepared to pick up Paloma. "I'm going to lift you. Keep your eyes open. Don't drift too far. It's alright now, kinling. I will see this made right."
no subject
Paloma stretched a hand out to where the golem disappeared, crying harder for the elf who truly never should have died.
As for Teague-- he stood his ground, upright, head high despite the shivering of muscle. He was young, and proud, too proud to let anyone see him brought low by darts full of blood granite. And he was angry; rage so palpable it pressed Paloma to begin hyperventilating. "Eyes-- eyes open, no drifting, it's alright now," she parroted. "It won't, it can't be right until they stop being afraid."
no subject
"Breathe," the Brucolac said to Paloma, and bent to pick her up off her feet, slinging an arm beneath her knees. Carrying her just as she had been carrying the elven corpse. She reeked of burnt flesh and blood, and was very light in his arms. "We will talk about their fear once you're closer to whole." He stepped into shadow, and made for his chambers at the top of the spire, trusting to the darkness to keep them both unseen.
His rooms were dark, large but plain. He laid her down on the bed, ignoring how blood seeped into the sheets. The golem which had overtaken them studied the movement and then carefully re-enacted it with its own burden, laying the elf down on the floor. The Brucolac was too preoccupied with hunting through a great dark wooden cabinet to notice his shadow-servant's awkward mimicry.
A hiss of fire starting in the grate. A clang of metal. The Brucolac flitted from shadow to shadow, deft and worried-seeming, until finally he alighted by Paloma. "Can you drink? Will that help?"
no subject
It was not going to be better, she realized, until someone put their hands or tools inside of her and extracted the metal. The horror of that reality stopped the bloody flow of tears, and dread wrapped lovingly around her throat. Its favorite, most familiar place to be.
Paloma knotted each brutalized fist into the covers, staring first at the corpse and then at the dead man looming above. "I-I could use more, but I'll kill someone like this. Or I might. Doesn't have to be fresh-- ahhhhh! Brucolac, it's IN me, I didn't have time to take it out so the wounds closed over but-- their arrows got stuck. They're stuck in me, I dunno how many. Ahhh God." He'd damned her bloodline, so she was not sure what God would do to help now, but she prayed without meaning to.
no subject
He left her bedside again, flitted back. Unscrewing the cap of a flask. The scent of blood filled the air. "Cold, I'm sorry." One arm crooked behind her head, he leveraged her up to drink. It was human, but it had the bitter tang of anti-coagulant. His emergency stores. "I'm." Shit. Start apologising and it was so hard to stop. He growled faintly, shook his head, shook away the countless sorrys stuck in his throat. "There a way to knock you out? I can get the arrowheads out. Done it before." Groping in gore. That time, his kin hadn't survived. No matter. The situation had been different. Paloma would live through this. He was almost sure. "Or I can call a medic."
no subject
Seeing him so uncertain shook her.
"Wood stake in my heart," she croaked through the red veil smothering her thoughts. "Won't kill me like stories say, I'll-- keeps me dead, like we are during the day. Not asleep, just dead until you take it out of me." Fire in her nostrils and smoke plumes in the fledgling's head. "Please, I want to stop feeling. Jus'-- restrain me when I wake up, in case, in case."
no subject
When he returned, he had a wooden pencil in his right hand. His left came to her face, covered her eyes. His skin was very cold and very rough, almost scaly. "Hush now. This won't take a moment. I won't leave your side." No point counting. Too much warning. He could feel her losing it, in every twitch and shudder of her wrecked body. He pressed briefly at her chest to locate a spot between two ribs: then plunged the makeshift stake down into the unbeating muscle of her heart.
no subject
"I know. Thank you."
Paloma felt the edge of the pencil worrisome small, but she needed to trust him. The Brucolac had never done wrong by her, and placing her faith in him and his safe haven was the first life-altering choice in this world that changed everything for the better. So she didn't fight the blinding, didn't cringe from the pressing.
The tiny, cut-off noise couldn't be stifled, but the makeshift stake pierced her heart and Paloma's body went stiff. Until he closed her eyes, she would stare as corpses did.