#Bryn Amaury

[backwardscapcarlos]

Amaury Cordeel (F2 Bahrain Testing - February 16, 2023) © Bryn Lennon

[wrennytenten-blog]

I will be honest & share with all of you that I joined some friends in a weekly DnD Campaign. Two points in this are important. One, it is far more fun than I originally anticipated. Two, I shamelessly chose Bryn as my Lawful Neutral/Human/Fighter character which works amazing for understanding a character.

[wrennytenten-blog]

Moral Conundrum

(I am not dead! Maybe school work tried, but it did not succeed!)

((I saw this prompt here somewhere, but cannot remember where. If anyone knows of the original, please let me know.))

“It’s called friends, Gareth. We’re friends.” Bryn watched her face scrunch from under her hood as if she had been struck with a wall of stench.

"There's no way I'm calling you my friend, we're in public."

"Haven’t you ever had a friend before? You know, someone you know and trust really well?” The disgust flat-lined, “Alright, maybe not –well, what about this? There's something you need to borrow from a friend. Let's say a hammer. You need to borrow a hammer from your friend, and they live right down the street. What do you do?"

"I go get the hammer," Gareth threw her shoulders, not sure what any of this was for. Bryn signaled for more. "I go to their house, break in, get the hammer, and leave." 

"No, no, no. You can't break into your friend's house."

"I can break into whatever house I want," Gareth glared, glancing to the children who had started snickering. 

"You're missing the point. This is your friend."

"So?" 

"You wouldn't break into your friend's house."

"My friend should expect it." Bryn pinched the bridge of her nose, expelling a deep sigh in an attempt to collect herself. 

"Let's try again. Someone comes over to your house, to borrow a hammer. When they get there, they knock on the door. What do you do?"

"Pretend I'm not home." 

"But they need to borrow a hammer, and you have one."

"I'm not answering the door." 

"But they're your friend."

"Not if they're knocking on my door." She grinned, and Bryn almost thought she saw her make a glance at the giggling children.

[wrennytenten-blog]

UnNamed WIP

Chapter 6 Section (Unedited)

“If we're going to stop, I'm getting something to drink,” Gareth sighed. Swiping the tail of her coat aside, she pulled a leg over the saddle. She came down too fast, bowing her head with a huff and freezing in place. Bryn grimaced, all too familiar with the jolting pain of broken ribs. Gareth still had healing to do, and dealing with Bankol hadn't helped.

Ruvyn eyed her from atop the saddle, every bit a noble first born with his lifted chin and skewed lips. He didn't like Gareth, disgusted in the least, wanting down but above asking for her help.

“I'll get the kids,” Bryn spoke up. Too much weight on her ribs would only cause more damage anyway.

“Should be able to get off on his own,” Gareth passed him a glare as she left.

“She's rude,” Maylin announced, eyeing the ground as Bryn set her down.

“Maybe its where she's from. Lots of different cultures in Eporis. It might seem rude to us but it's common elsewhere.” She helped Ruvyn get down, ushering them both to the tavern stairs.

It was signature of a small town. Empty, quiet, and filthy. There was mud caked on everything three feet off the ground or less, including the stairs. Ruvyn walked on tip toes, making a disgusted noise as he pressed the door open. Inside it was warm and well lit, oil lamps dangling from rafters with a wide fire pit at the back end of the room. Filled with the smells of broiled meat and spilt alcohol, it was far better than the dampness outside.

Few people were at the tables. All were busy in their cups with only a few of them actually eating. Gareth sat herself along the far wall at one of the longer, log tables. No one else was on that side of the room, seeming a perfect place for her. Bryn sat beside her, not wanting her or the kids picking a fight with one another. Gareth slouched on the table, one arm hooked about her middle, head faintly turning as she scanned the tavern.

It didn't take long for a barmaid to come over. Everyone noticed them come in with the place practically vacant. She was short, stocky, with long brown hair tied low on her neck. She started to say something but stopped as soon as she saw the kids. “Well, it isn't too often we get little ones. Such sweet faces,” she paused, glancing to Gareth. Hesitating she moved on to Bryn, “are you mom?”

“Not exact—”

“Careful,” Gareth interrupted, light in tone, “she gets touchy about her age. Just hit a big marker and she's liable of depressed bouts at the mention.” She lifted her head, smiling out from under her hood.

“Oh dear,” the barmaid placed a tender hand on Bryn's shoulder, “there's nothing wrong with that. You've done well for your age. I don't even have a husband yet and I'm twenty.” 

“Don't rush it.” Gareth sat up, “It's not all it's hyped up to be.” The barmaid sighed, took one look at the kids, and her smile went south.

“I do need to warn you. This table is usually for other patrons. They're particular in where they sit.”

“They'll be alright,” Gareth waved it away. “We're already comfortable.” 

“Alright, if you insist,” her uneasy air made Bryn nervous. “Well, what can I get for you all?'

“Dark for me,” Gareth looked down the table, “two milks for the brats, and…?” she waved at Bryn.

“Do you have any coffee?” Bryn smiled hopefully. 

“I can start you some.” She winked and turned away.

“Coffee?” Gareth scowled, “by the time we leave here, we'll have to find somewhere to set up camp. We're about to bed down and you want coffee?”

“That's why I need it.”

“What is coffee?” Maylin asked. She stood on the seat, hand on Bryn's shoulder as she watched the fireplace.

“It's like tea, but strong and bitter,” she sat back as Maylin reached across her, boldly tapping Gareth's arm.

“Why do you drink so much?”

“So I don't have to try so hard to ignore you,” she answered without missing a beat. “Sit down before you manage to hurt yourself.”

“Our father made a mistake,” Ruvyn muttered.

“You bet he did.”

“He would never choose someone like you to take care of us.” Gareth slammed her hands on the table, leaning over to glare at him.

“That's just it –he didn't choose us to take care of you. Do you know what taking care of people means in my line of work?”

“Alright,” Bryn hissed, holding a hand up between them, “let's start over.”

“I want to go home,” Maylin whined. 

“It's okay, hey, don't worry.” Bryn cooed, petting her hair, “We're going to go see your mom. That's nice, right?”

“I don't know her,” she started to cry, soft sniffles into her hands.

“Great,” Gareth mumbled.

“You caused this. Could you be a little bit nicer?” She only rolled her eyes.

“Oh no! No worries,” the barmaid was back, setting glasses down. She gave Maylin hers first, “there you are dear. Don't cry. Are you hungry?”

“And a little tired,” Bryn chuckled. “We're going to get the stew.” she pointed over to the board by the door. It listed the special of the day, and meat and vegetable stew. The barmaid glanced to Gareth, Bryn already able to feel her glare.

“Sure. I'll have that right out.” She reached out, patting Maylin's head and hurried off to the kitchen.

“So, let's all start over, because we've got a long way to go and we don't need it to be any more difficult than it already is.” She looked to the kids and then to Gareth, “Okay? I'll go first. My name is Bryn, from Calvalio. I'm a soldier, a King's Blade.” 

“What is that?” Ruvyn was leaned over, curious, “A King's Blade?”

“Like a knight, a personal guard for the King of Calvalio.”

“You're an Independent? Do you not like the Empire?”

“Never lived there,” she shrugged. When Gareth didn't say anything Bryn nudged her.

“What do you want me to say here?” She waved towards another table of people. She huffed as Bryn continued to stare, and then leaned closer to whisper. “People pay me money to kill other people.” And then sat back. Maylin gave another whine into her glass. “Great idea.”

“Here you are! Nice and warm.” the barmaid sat a bowl in front of Maylin and Ruvyn. “I'll bring the others, one moment.” Maylin settled into taking up her spoon, sniffling over her bowl as she stirred at it. Her brother shot Gareth a glare before starting to eat. 

“Maybe start telling people you do other things for a living,” Bryn turned to face Gareth, voice low. “You know, for say's sake.”

“You want me to lie? It that right, Blade? You're telling me to lie to the children.” She was having fun, angry and uncomfortable. “I thought you were supposed to be all good morals. Righteous and all that.”

“Look, I don't know how you grew up—”

“Pretty well, actually.”

“Alright, so they're children. Can you tone it down for them? They've been thrown out of their home, hidden from their family, sent across the country. They're young. Can you cut them some slack?”

“Fine,” she huffed, looking up as the barmaid returned again. The stew looked delicious, thick, brown broth with slices of potato, onion, carrot, and some strange yellow chunks. It smelt savory, broiled, making her stomach growl in anticipation. Gareth took more interest in her mug of dark ale, letting her food cool.

“So,” Bryn continued to whisper, “when you said you work to protect those who can't protect themselves, who did you mean?”

“Who I said.”

“Like…? Do you have an example?” Gareth lowered her mug, thinking on it as she wiped her mouth.

“I once had a mother hire me to kill her husband. A poor couple. Cobblers, I think.” 

“And you just killed him? Just took her word and shoved a blade in his back?” Gareth paused from her next sip, eyes set across the tavern.

“You know, I did. Cut him to pieces and had him fed to a pig farm –thought it was fitting.”

“Just because she said he was a bad husband?”

Gareth set the mug back down with a clatter. She turned to look at Bryn with a precise turn of the head, their eyes meeting. Unblinking, she leaned in close, holding there for a moment. “I made him disappear because I saw their twelve year old daughter he had been raping.” Bryn couldn't move, feeling foolish as a cold sickness rose in her gut. Gareth drew back, taking a swig. “Who's going to believe the poor wife of a man who runs his own business?”

“You did.”

“Because I saw evidence. I always need evidence because I have standards. Usually its nobility, stewards, sheriffs, people with power who can get away with anything. Murder, rape, child marriages. Anything, unless they're dead. That's where I come in.”

“Like a vigilante,” Bryn whispered. Gareth was like tales she heard as a child. Shadow warriors who punished the bad, agents of the afterlife goddess, Itris.

“Vigilantes work for free or the goodness of their hearts. That, I don't do.” Her face sharpened, lowering her mug from another sip to squint at the door. A group of men entered. Dirty, armed, and slouching, they piled in from the matching village outside. Stomping boots and growling mumbles, they all looked over at their table, stopping short. The barmaid watched from the other side of the room, hands pressed to her mouth as everyone else looked on.

People turned away, stiff and jumping at any small noise. Eyes remained in their plates as if trying to stay out of the way. The leader of the group, a pale, gangly man, stared at them. He wore only slacks and tanned boots that were tied up by leather straps. He looked like someone who had just crawled out of the wilderness. Wiping a hand across his bearded mouth, he strode towards their table.

Gareth pulled a dagger from her belt, keeping it in her lap.

“Uh-uh,” Bryn grunted. She kept eye contact with the man, smiling as he stood across from them. “Evening.”

He grinned in return, “evening.” he was gruff in speech, smelling damp and sweaty. Glancing between them he chuckled, “Not from here, I take it.”

“Not really.”

“Good,” he turned to Gareth, locking stares. They reminded her of wild dogs, ready to pounce with hair hackled and teeth bare. “Otherwise, I'd kill the lot of you for sitting at our table.”

“A shame that is,” Gareth took a drink.

“You shouldn't speak to us like that,” Maylin boldly pointed her spoon at him. Ruvyn clamped a hand over her mouth, pulling her hand down. The man turned to look at them, brows falling over his sunken eyes. Maylin tried saying something else, garbled in her brother's hands.

“You the local badger?” Gareth asked with a refreshed hiss from her drink. She sat the mug down as gently as a lady arranging her tea cup in its saucer, leaning back in her seat and looking up at him. “I didn't see no mark on the door.”

“We can move,” Bryn offered.

“No, we won't,” Gareth growled. “These boys can get over their favorite spot. They should know their manners. Haven't you ever heard of ladies first?”

He swiped for the table, never reaching her mug as Gareth sprung up, dagger at his throat. She had another knife stripped, ready to throw. “Easy there, Cad. There's children, don't want them to see you bleed all over dinner. Right gents?” She called to the others. Bryn had a hand on her sword, other arm stretched across the kids. The air was thick, no one moving as Gareth kept her knives ready.

“Maybe we can talk this over,” Bryn said with care. As slow as she could, she got to her feet, giving view of her sword and blocking the kids. “No need in getting violent over a few seats. There's plenty of other tables. Besides, my friend here is a bit hasty. She's not afraid to get her hands dirty. But I don't want anyone to get hurt. We just want to eat our dinner and leave.”

Not even the staff made a sound.

“Easy enough for an outside to make this mistake. Maybe we can share.” She was partly speaking to Gareth as well. No one seemed ready to back down, too tense to move.

“I know who she is,” one of the gang members piped up. “The one in the hood –I recognize her now. She's the Silver Fox of Mazame, Queen of Cull and Crash.” Bryn stared at him, certain he was speaking actual words. She knew them, just not the order of them. It sounded like another language.

“You've got me mistaken for someone else,” Gareth answered, slow with a warning bite. “I'm too small for any mill or crash. A thimble like me is into baz and prigging at most.” Bryn glanced over at her, fumbling to make sense of their ramble.

“Priggin' here? In our territory?” Another, bald member pressed. He dared a step closer and Bryn thumbed her blade from its sheath just enough to get it to scrape. They all froze like deer.

“Surely, gentlemen, there's a misunderstanding,” She matched Gareth's cold tone, “she's working with me, on an errand.”

“And just what are you up to now?”

“Having dinner,” Gareth snarled.

“She's right. Having a bit to eat between jobs. We've ben hired for different work. I assure you, neither of us have been taking part in, er, cull and crash.” With a slow tilt of the head, Gareth glared at her.

“Who you pulling for?” The leader asked. 

“Grand Prince—”

“The Grand Prince of Buckles, the Son of Fog, the Jack of Crows,” Gareth announced with dangerous strength in her voice. “I may be just a prigger, but anything happens to us, and you'll have the Son of Shadows and Queen of Cull herself at your doorstep.” She let the blade bite into the man's neck, just enough to draw blood. “Your next move is going to depend on how long you want to live.”

[wrennytenten-blog]

The Red Queen

Bryn had noticed the red painted building from the other end of town. She just didn't think they would be stopping at it. Covered in windows, and filled with rooms, it was nearly the biggest place in the city. Most of the arched windows were covered. Those that were opened spilled their pastel pink curtains out into the wind. On occasion, a window had someone looking out over the street, calling down to those passing by or simply smoking. They wore particular clothing of corsets, some with or without skirts, and precious little else.

Gareth leapt down from her saddle, blindly throwing the reins over the black railings. Bryn turned her head to look down at her, shocked at how casual and straight faced she was. And then she remembered the kids. Ruvyn was still sitting on the horse, staring up at the windows with his mouth fallen open, eyes wide and darting.

"We're stopping here?" Bryn asked, hoping Gareth had made a mistake or had other plans. She looked up at Bryn, taking a moment before her frown returned.

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, I mean," Bryn glanced up to the windows, searching for proper words. "You're sure you want to stay here?"

"I would love to stay here," Gareth chuckled, grabbing her pack.

"So, we aren't?" Bryn was revealed, laughing at herself for assuming Gareth would bring them to a place like this.

"You want somewhere safe for the kids?" The joking tone was gone, Gareth turning with that spike of annoyance in her tone. "And you want somewhere Imperials aren't going to look for us? Maybe somewhere with a good bed, good food, not drafty or leaky?"

"Of course," Bryn smiled, stepping off her horse.

"Then we're staying at the Red Queen," Bryn almost slipped, boot catching in her stirrup, arms swinging for balance. "Come on, you little hedgehog." Gareth pulled Ruvyn off the horse, setting him beside her, "Stay close and keep your hat on until I say." Not happy with Bryn's delay, she plucked Maylin down as well.

"I don't want to stay here." She squeaked out, cringing as she stared at the windows.

"Then it's a good thing you have no say in the matter," Gareth poked her nose before straightening.

"Gareth, wait," getting free, Bryn stepped around to tie up her horse. "Really, we can't stay here."

"Really, we can." As she went to turn, Bryn grabbed her by the arm.

"We can, sure, but we are not taking the kids in there."

"Why?" her face twisted, beyond understanding.

"Because, it's a brothel," she hissed, turning her back to Maylin and Ruvyn, "No one should be taking kids into a brothel. How is this not common sense?" Gareth scowled at her, huffed and gave a small shake of the head.

"Alright, fine. Since you have the pleasure luxury to be picky, where then, Knight of Calvalio, would you safely spend the night?" She turned, motioning up and down the dirty street. Being in a valley, shadows were beginning to stretch from alleys and side streets. The sun wasn't taking it's time to set, and in no time would leave them in the dark. It was a place Bryn didn't want to be caught in the dark. A scantly dressed man exited the Red Queen, beginning to light the pink cloth lamps that hung out along the building. Other stores were closing up, only two inns and one tavern left, all of which were closely patrolled by the guard.

Bryn glanced down to Maylin and then Ruvyn, both staring up at her in hopes of a better solution.

"But, you're right, Bryn," Gareth sighed, adjusting her pack over a shoulder. "Kids don't belong in a brothel, and who in their right mind would bring them here?"

"Exactly!"

"Exactly," she hummed, stepping closer to lower her voice. "So, who would come looking for kids in a brothel?" It dawned on her. This wasn't some uncultured harshness of Gareth's, but a cheeky plan. No one would suspect a brothel, two women and children, spending the night in the red light. It was so clever she couldn't help but laugh.

[wrennytenten-blog]

“Maybe you’d understand if you actually had a home and country.”

Bryn

Skilled swordsman, patriotic veteran, & compassionate lionheart, Bryn Amaury is an elite knight of the King’s Blades. Born and raised in Calvalio, she has dedicated her soldier’s career protecting her beloved homeland. Familiar with any weapon, loyal to a fault, & strong as an ox, Bryn has spent most of her life in war and barracks. But just as there is peace in Calvalio, their beloved king is murdered.

And Bryn saw who did it.

Unable to protect her king from an assassin, Bryn refuses to let the rogue who tried to stop it take the punishment. Teaming up with Gareth, they search for the killer of her king to be rightfully trialed. However, fleeing is taken for guilt, & the King’s Blades are hot on their heels. As luck would have it they are offered asylum in a neighboring country, for a single job: sneak royal Elven children across the Empire without getting caught.

Desperate to return peace to her country, and prevent another war, Bryn must protect them to save her home.

[wrennytenten-blog]

Experimenting with Introducing Bryn

“Need a room?” A thin, wrinkled woman asked behind the desk. She had a wide northern accent, head covered in the woven wool pointed caps of the area. Her smile idled out as her eyes searched Bryn up and down from behind her magnified glasses. “You be a traveler. No one around Bankol is built like you are, my lady. You need a room. Yes?"

“Yes ma'am, I sure do,” it was a nice change of pace, a smile and warm words compared to Gareth's sighs and snarls. “Do you have vacancy for two?”

“Perhaps," she continued to study, her armor and the great sword on her back. "Did you bring a husband?"

“No,” Bryn couldn't help but laugh.

“Wife?” The old woman pried, grinning.

“No,” she stifled a frown, “business partner.”

“Oh,” the innkeeper drew it out in a shrill note of realization. “You are both travelers! Warriors? Elf killers?”

“Haven't killed any elves, hope not to." The woman scanned her over again before grabbing for a key from behind the desk.

“Eh,” she shrugged, “Elf killer."

[wrennytenten-blog]

Two MC’s of my untitled WIP, Gareth & Bryn

Framed for killing a beloved King, two fugitives may have stumbled into something more treacherous than their executions.

Gareth, a street savvy sleuth, and Bryn, a soldier of the King’s Blades, barely know one another but need one another to survive. Working as mercenaries, they scourge the great continent of Eporis for clues of the true killer. On their journey, they are brought before a Grand Prince, recognized as criminals. Just when they’re sure they’ve met their end, the duo find themselves in charge of sneaking the Grand Prince’s illegitimate children out of the empire and into Elven country.

Hunted by men, wanted by kingdoms, two women must preserve two lives to save their own.