WhiteWall - Scathach the Iron Shrew

John's original suggestion:

Broyan's wives. Let take a slasher to stereotypes here. Hows about: he's had a succession of year wives, some of whom have borne him children, and who are still part of the King's Household. His current wife is a part of a key alliance deal, and there's no love lost between them. She's TERRIFYING though, gives dishthanes heart attacks and runs the King's Household like an ogress. Let's call her the Hearthmistress for now.

And then someone (Joerg? Jane? (not me - <Jane>) (neither me <Joerg>)) suggested Scathach the Iron Shrew.

John's response:

While I think Scathach is a very fine name indeed, and very apt - 'she who strikes fear', I wonder if the structural similarities to the original owner might not cause confusion? Or should we run with them and even expand on the mythic similarities?

Original was lover to a hero, at least for a few nights. Check.

Sword Mistress who taught many heroes. Hmmmmm.

<Jane>How old is she now? Older than Broyan? And what did she do earlier in her life? Ex-Vingan who grew out of it? She must have clan affiliations now to be a "prize" in alliances. Children from previous relationships?

You know, if at least some of the Vingans present have known her in the past as another Vingan and vastly senior to them, that could be very interesting. Division between "why did she abandon our cult?" and automatic obedience. </Jane>

Prophetess of gloom and doom, given to pronouncing the deaths of warriors in chilling detail. Possibilities... that's another reason she's so fearful.

<Jane>I'd avoid over-doing the detailed predictions. They cause GMs problems, because they have to come true. </Jane>

At war with a warrior woman (Aoife). Definitely!!!!!

Suggest we give her a more balanced epiphet. People may well call her the Iron Shrew, but I don't see the (terrifying!) year wife of a king choosing that sort of handle for herself. Unless there's a cult connection I don't see?

Ernalda Queen. Orendana? Kev??! Perhaps a Mabh-ish cattle queen??

Scathach the Cupbearer? Scathatch Silverherds? Scathatch Cold Comfort? Scathach Ill Omen? Scathach (irony) the Gentle?

<John>

Scathach, a Story

Scathach looked over the High King's Hearth from her vantage point on the first balcony. She stood in the shadows so that no one could see her because she wished to judge the people's mood. To look her over no one would ever mistake her for someone unimportant. She stood perfectly straight. Unliked most women she wore her hair up in a bun and everyone in Whitewall without exception would have been stunned to see that a faint smile was on her face as she remembered the new knickname the young warriors were calling her. The Iron Bun indeed. She smiled broadly before her face regained its usual composure. She would have guessed that no one other than Broyan would know that the pins that held her hair up were actual iron and deadly sharp Her dress was plain but well crafted and made of the finest wool. Its grey colour suited her and she had worn grey for so long that no one alive remembered the laughing young woman who had worn every colour under the sun before those days of horror that had seen her heart die. She had watched as her twin sister donned the red of Vinga as her response. They had argued violently about it before she left on the vengeance trail and they had never made up the quarrel. This old sorrow, long held close to her breast, crossed her face and she sent it back to its well worn home in her heart. No, no one here knew that young woman. No one knew Branduana Sunwillow any more. Now she was the Iron Shrew indeed.

Once her sister had won her bloody vengeance she had returned to her in triumph, throwing her bloody trophies at her feet. But she had found no comfort in vengeance and a sudden glimpse showed her the future and she'd wept and her sister, not understanding had cursed her and left. Short seasons later she was dead too, another victim of the quest for vengeance. Since that time she had steeled her features so no sign of the premonitions she had leaked out again. In sorrow for her sister's death she had donned the grey. It had been some wag who had named her the Iron Shrew, partly for the grey, partly for her diminutive size, partly for her sharp tongue. She sighed. Someone had to be a shrew. Men were too prone to follow men, too prone to listen to their hearts and not their heads. Someone had to have some sense. She shook her head and returned to her observance.

The people looked happy enough. Their mood was good despite the situation, though she knew it was only going to get worse. These people needed her, not those of her brother-in-law's clan any longer (chief of a Volsaxi tribe). A weakness that was marrying Enestakus. She shook her head remembering their love which had lasted for far too short a time. She had stayed with her husband's people after his death and proved her worth as an organizer and dishthane. She had found a happiness of sorts organizing things and ordering people around for her brother-in-law. But then her brother-in-law had asked her to seal an alliance by marrying Broyan. She had argued long and hard against this. A third marriage was one too many for her tastes but finally her brother-in-law had prevailed and she had agreed to marry him. She shook her head in disgust. Broyan was a war leader all right. He had an amazing ability to lead people and get them to do things but she had seen his type far too often. He was a stalwart in war, a leader to follow to hell and back but he was the sort of restless, driven man who would cause nothing but trouble in peace. He could organize an assault but he couldn't arrange for servants to clean the nightsoil pails from the Hall. Nor could his precious warriors could sully themselves to do the job, she sneered. No, she organized that duty and a thousand others. He needed her to run things and the people needed him to lead them in this time of trouble. Unfortunately they didn't need each other. He was welcome to his useless toy, Meloise. The only good thing about the chit was that she didn't seem totally spineless. Ernalda forbid that the girl ever realized that she had any fondness for her at all. She shook her head and observing some slacking off decided that it was time to put in an appearance and get things moving properly again. She moved out of the shadows.