Seamus MacNeacail
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Seamus (of Clan MacNeacail), of Wolvenfang, in the Principality of Nine Blades
"Scorrybreac!"
Biography:
Seamus MacNeacail was born in 1632 on the Ilse of Skye in Scotland, a plane of existence very different from what he now knows is Amtgardia.
He had 2 elder brothers that were known for their martial prowess and although Seamus wanted to very much be a better fighter and trained hard towards this end he simply didn’t measure up.
In a territorial skirmish against clan MacLeod, Seamus desperately wanted to prove not only he had some small measure of martials kill but that we wasn’t a coward as his brothers often teased him.
As the lines approached and collided, steel swords rung out in violence and thrusted from all angles, men yelled for their mothers as they lay dying on the ground. Even the distinctive clan tartans now muddied and brown were hard to differentiate.
Seamus acquitted himself well, however he soon became reckless as he surrendered himself to a blood lust and charged at a knot of enemy clansmen. The world exploded in pain, seeing at first only red which slowly faded to black as the sounds of battle died down. Young Seamus was only 16 years of age at the time. He awoke by an unknown lake, lying on his back looking up at the night sky; unknown star configurations looked down upon him. The fields by the lake appeared to be green and were wet, he trembled and wrapped his plaid around him to retain some measure of warmth, Using the temperature, weather and new growth grass, Seamus could only assume it was spring. This confused the poor lad as his last memories muddled as they were, were of the battle which had taken place in summer.
The air was different here, he couldn’t quite say why, even the water tasted somehow…strange.
He was only certain that he was not in the location he last remembered. Knowing he had to find shelter soon, he filled his leather canteen and picked a direction away from the water collected some dry tinder and sticks and with vigorous effort made fire and a small bed of pine branches. Although he had just woken up he was inexplicably tired and drifted to sleep.
Morning came and strange birds greeted him with their music in nearby trees. He made his way to the lake once again to wet his face and drink some more before setting out into the unknown wilderness. He was shocked to find his own reflection in the lake was not his own. It was he yes, but aged many summers more than he remembered. He could only estimate his age and guessed mid thirties as he very much resembled his father. He was also more portly than he had been only yesterday at the battle. What had happened to him; was he this old? Where in God’s name was he?
Shaking his head in disbelief he headed in a direction as best as he could tell was north where a nearby village should be. He foraged for food as best as he could but he had no bow to hunt; while berries and leaves could only sustain a man for so long. No land features were familiar and the village that he had hoped to find wasn’t to be found. He was well and truly lost and beginning to be very scared he would die alone. He came across a small river and followed that in hopes a settlement would be found.
After a few days walk he came upon a dirt track near the river that headed in his general direction and after a days travel he could smell and sometimes see through the tree break some rising smoke in the distance.
On his fifth day of travel he arrived at a great town the likes of which he had never seen. After inquiring with a passing man who travelled by ox cart and a strange accent he was told the town was named Wolvenfang and was a duchy of what was called the Northern Empire.
Karlund Aldeberan II (of Lost Carcosa), of Wolvenfang, in the Principality of Nine Blades
”Have you seen the Tattered King?”
Biography:
Karlund remembers little of his past, so long ago it was.
“I was Karlund of Carcosa, soldier for the King (In Yellow).
A great battle was fought; Death walking freely among us, scores of soldiers falling in her wake. The fires tore at men, arrows rained freely, blades rose and fell with screams resonant in Carcosa.
I fought and bled for my liege, the Tattered King (In Yellow). The battle raged through dusks and dawns by the mist shrouded shores of Hali to the plains of Aldebaran. The twin suns sank and rose again; below them raged the maelstrom that was then Carcosa. …then I fell.”
“I awoke slowly an eternity later. Once green fields now scarred, blackened, strewed with the dead; carrion for the birds. Of my liege the King (In Yellow) naught was to be found. His banners were stained and torn, Carcosa besieged by flames, its ruined stones scattered. Wearily I searched then and still I search now for my liege…my King (In Yellow).”
“Long have I trudged bellow black stars and strange moons; I roam and wander and now foreboding thoughts are my only company. Yet I have found naught of the Tattered King (In Yellow) except his sigil…his sign, vast years and distances apart. I have lost my way unable to return to dear Carcosa; my home, my beginning. Mayhap one day I will find it with my King (In Yellow) and rest.”
"Though I may fall in battle, I shall rise again whole and healed; though sad of heart for my lost King (In Yellow) and Carcosa. Throughout this journey my hopes forlorn, my soul may vary but I am always I… Karlund of Lost Carcosa.”
Other:
Belted Family
- Sir Balthazar
Affiliated Groups:
Notable Accomplishments
- Paged to Squire Artanis - Jul 2019
