A-hunting we will go...

["Kathie Care" <kathie@availablelight.net>]

3/16/2002
Logfile from DuneIII-Tat'iana.

Where the Great Houses vie for power in the Padishah Imperium....

You go through a long passage, finally emerging at the hunting grounds.

Imperial Reserve -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)

 This sprawling expanse, the largest part of the conservatory, seems from the
outside like a great mushroom, protruding from the comparatively small stalk of
the lower levels to rest comfortably again against the outlying hills around the
Imperial Palace. It houses four hundred acres of verdant hills, forests, rivers
and lakes, every concievable geographical locale from which to hunt. Game of the
most prized and rare breeds inhabit these areas, flocks of Carintheen geese
flying overhead as the silver glimmer of the elusive Silvershark is seen beneath
the ripples of an artificial river. This monstrous construct has been completed
with the utmost of care, climate controlled and both wildlife and natural
habitats carefully selected and maintained to give the utmost of pleasure to
those who come here. Spread throughout the wide hunting grounds are several
comfortable resting points: tables, covered platforms, and even a couple
ostentatious cabins to offer rest and relaxation to those who come to enjoy this
true wonder of the Known Universe.

Players:

 Emylie

Exits:

 Pathway <NE> leads to Docks -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)

 Wide Passage <E> leads to Cloisters -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)


The Corrino stables are a bright, cheery area. In fact, the beloved steeds of
the aristocracy receive better care than much of the servant class. Horses,
indeed, are far higher in the faufreluches than the mean wenches and attendants.

As the Kaitain sun climbs high in the sky, Emylie Fenring stands in the sunny
stables, tending to her beloved Azil. At the moment, she's toting a bucket of
alfalfa for her.

The light tromp of booted feet, perhaps a child or woman, just outside announce
another coming to join the peaceful air of the stables. Several more people
follow behind, their own steps much heavier. But, those others are a small ways
behind, and it's only one person who goes through the door of the stables.

Tat'iana paces in, almost hesitantly, the bulge in the pocket of her riding
jacket giving away the secret cache of treats immediately. Warily, she peers
about, almost as though she fears someone popping out from behind a door, even
were it to just say 'boo!'.

Dumping the alfalfa into Azil's feed tray, Emylie looks up. Recent events
haven't been kind to Miss Fenring. She sports dark circles under her eyes, and
the loose fit of her clothes speaks volumes about her eating habits of late.
Espying the Empress, Emylie breaks into a dazzling smile. The bucket is dropped
on the floor. Emylie flies to Her Majesty's side, and sinks to her knees
directly before the Empress. "Oh Majesty," she cries happily, tears sprouting
from her eyes. "You've come."

A hand reaches to touch the girl's head hesitantly, but draws back just before
the contact is made. Awkwardly, Tat'iana backs away from her a half pace,
nodding stiffly. "I.. couldn't stand the sight of my rooms a moment longer. I
should not be out, but, I can't stand seeing my rooms. The rug is clean, but, I
still see it as it was that night. Emylie, I'm losing my mind."

Scrambling to her feet, Emylie peers at the Empress, worry and concern in her
eyes. "Shall I call the Suk," she whispers anxiously.

"I am sick to death of Suks, and needles, and poking and prodding," Tat'iana
moans. "I just want them all to leave me alone. I'm taking Shishka out. Follow
me, if you can, if you want, I care not. But I'm going out, and I'm going to
ride like I want. No side-saddle. No walks. No gentle, slow ladylike things."
With her declaration, she moves with the surety of it in her stride to the named
horse's stall, and by the appearances of it she means to handle his tack on her
own as well.

Biting her lip, Emylie stands stilly as the Empress brushes past her, uncertain
whether to follow or not. She watches her saddle the animal up, frozen with
indecision. Already saddled, Azil prances in her stall, snorting as she senses
that someone is getting to go out soon.

Shishka stands patiently awaiting his lady's attentions, though he does arch his
neck to nose at her pocket. Ahh, yes, the same one each time. And this time,
she's brought more than ever before. A wonderful day to be this horse, indeed!

She struggles, but Tat'iana perseveres, a light sweat already standing out on
her brow before she finishes tightening and inspecting her own girth. Giving
each item another thorough look, she swings up into the saddle without waiting
to lead Shishka out. With a nudge, she sends him forward, herself folding over
across his neck to keep from being knocked out of the saddle by the top of the
doorway.

As the Empress heads out into the reserve, Emylie finally makes a decision.
Hiking her skirts up, she runs to Azil's stall, flinging open the door to her
stall. With deft hands, the halter comes off and the bridle is slipped over the
mare's ears. Reins are thrown over the back. Azil comes willing out of the stall
eager to be off. Emylie leads her outside, searching for the Empress' path. With
a foot in the hand of the nearest stableboy, Emylie swings over the saddle. A
moment to pull the skirts up and out of the way and then a gentle prod and the
two are trotting off after Tat'iana, hair bobbing in the easy up and down.

Tat'iana only hesitates a few moments when clear of the stable doors, her
Noukkers making a mad scramble for horses themselves. Apparently, her intent to
give them the slip is succeeding... just like old times.

A direction chosen, she gives Shishka a more urgent nudge, and he responds
readily and eagerly. Leaping forward he sets off towards the distant treeline,
his stride lengthening into a run quickly and easily. During her convalescence,
he's clearly been well-cared for and well-exercised, and the effort of the quick
pace is not a heavy burden for him. Rather, it's a joy.

With the Noukker after the Empress, Emylie is all but ignored. Leaning forward,
Emylie gripes the horse with her knees. She loosens the rein, giving the mare
her head. Taking a handful of mane, she pushes Azil to follow. The horse springs
willingly after Shishka, eager to catch up. They they start to gallop, Emylie's
black skirts billow in the wind. For the first time in weeks, she acually
laughs.

The stablehands are too slow in filling orders for the needed horses. Soon,
Shishka is too far away for the Noukker to bother trying, though a few continue
so that they can at least be in the field and closer to her than they are now.

Tat'iana doesn't look back as she bends low over her horse's neck. The moment is
hers, and the wind is in her face.

A race is a splendid game, thinks Azil. In no time, the speedy mare has left the
few Noukkers in her dust. She focuses on catching the Empress still far ahead.

Slade emerges from a long passage that came from the cloisters.
Slade has arrived.

Cerberus has arrived.

Yvgenie emerges from a long passage that came from the cloisters.
Yvgenie has arrived.

Wensicia emerges from a long passage that came from the cloisters.
Wensicia has arrived.

A few Noukkers have managed to grab horses, have them saddled, and have charged
off after two rapidly receding dots -- apparently, two horses, with each a
rider, heading for the treeline on the horizon. Those who remain watch, with no
small amount of consternation, cursing silently to themselves fickle and foolish
women.

Sedately, Yv canters out from the stables, astride a white stallion that looks
as if it belonged solely on the parade ground. He reins him in as he notes the
Noukkers, wondering, "Is something wrong?"

It could be a small army by the sound of the clacking boots that enter into the
reserve. Heading the company of Levies is the Hegemon wearing a special
expression on this occasion: Utter annoyance. Perhaps those days of fear and
misery bode far better knowing that the women would stay some place secure. From
 pre-sent orders Levies have brought the mounts for the company from the
military stables.


 The Hegemon's own horse is brought foward. A massive beast the color of a
moonless night with voilet eyes. Like the massive Rottweiler that tests the air
like his master, both the horse and dog have the Corrino brand on their left
hind legs.

  Slade mounts up as do his men on their steeds. He glances over answering to
the Huntmaster. "The Emperss and Lady Emylie have eluded their guards. Care to
help me find them?"

Yvgenie chuckles, wryly, as he nudges the Andalusian out before the mass of
Slade's men. "My lord, there's nowhere in the Reserve that they can go that I
can't find them within a moment. But if you dislike the idea of them being out
of your sight, just let me know, and I'll lead you to them."

Far out on the reserve, Emylie and Azil have drawn within a few lengths of
Tat'iana and Shishka. Crouching down, Emylie urges Azil ahead, cooing in her
ear. The mare responses with another burst of speed. "Majesty," Emylie calls
out, gaily. She's not had this much fun, since, well, since way before Jenaa
died.

Wensicia arrives on an elegant, tall barb of the most shining golden hue, moving
at a delicate trot, and pulls up her reigns next to the Hegemon and the
Hunt-Master, "Does something seem to be amiss, My Lords?" her question is sugar
coated, but contains the steel that her tone always carries.

(OOC) Tat'iana says, "Ooh, look, Em. A hunting party. And... we seem to be the
hunted. ;p"

(OOC) Emylie says, "heh."

Yvgenie turns back towards the stables, and whistles sharply. In obedience to
the wordless summons, another dog appears - a canine wraith, when compared to
Slade's beast, he's built like a greyhound, but has prick ears, and a coat of
bright copper. Tongue lolling, he bounds over towards his master, then sits,
eyes bright. To Wen's question, Yv simply grins. "A hunt, my lady, albeit an
impromptu one."

Tat'iana doesn't slow her horse until he's reached the treeline. Even still,
she's spotted the path - its tracks still fairly well-worn and the trees
certainly wider-spaced here, and she takes him into the woods at a pace faster
than others might have dared. Reckless as the flight might seem, it's certainly
not a path she's not taken before, by the looks of it. In fact, those who know
her habits would know that the worn tracks are largely her doing, such a
creature of habit she can be.

Reaching the treeline only moments later, Emylie reins Azil in, slowing her
slightly. Falling somewhat behind, Emylie darts through the brush, hoping to
catch up by taking a short cut. Nimble Azil selects a path through the trees,
aiming to catch Shishka at the turn ahead.

The bailful sound of the Cerberus' wail fills the air as he picks up the
Empress' sent. However, noting the scent of other canine causes a growl from the
Rottweiler. Slade glares down as his dog giving the command to go after the
Empress. "Away to me, dog. Very well then, na-Viscount, lead the way."



 Slade still seems pissed and fuming. Not that he cannot track her but he will
use every resource that he can. Already the beating of ornithopter wings can be
heard over head as thermal trackers are in use on the nose cone's of the
mechanical 'bugs'.



 "Join us if you wish, Duchess...seems that everyone else is. Let's get on with
this. Baron, you have the lead." Slade grunts and kicks up Apocalypse in to a
steady run. The Hegemon holds his ankles down as he leans foward in his saddle
keeping the reigns loose in his hands. The company following behind him.

Yv mutters a sharp command to the waiting sight-hound, who bounces ahead as if
this were all just a big romp. But his course is true, as he leaves narrow
pawprints among the tracks of Tat's horse. After him goes the pale stallion -
clearly no warhorse, but his gait is as smooth as water over glass, deceptively
so, making his speed seem les for the utter lack of effort.

Wensicia leans forward over the neck of her beast, and moves swiftly from a
canter to a full gallop, an impressive speed, considering the steed's great
strides and race-toned physique, her direction is straight off towards the
Empress' favored riding paths, she is, after all, quite a creature of habit,
might as well start with the obvious. As she gallops past, "Dear Slade, don't
get to tied up about it, I'm quite certain that the Empress is a grown woman and
doesn't need you to hold her hand while she's out riding."

Slade glances over at the Duchess than back to the matter at hand. His reasons
for doing things left to the personal mechanisms of his own mind. Though with
orders given prior to this occasion the company of Levies split into three
groups, a third flank off to the left, a thired flank to the right, with the
remainng force staying with the Hegemon.


 A buzz from a communicator on the saddle emits loudly: "Imperial 159 to
Hegemon, over."

 "Go head 159."

 "We are tracking the Empress and have a visual."

 "Continue following and form a perimeter. That is all 159, Hegemon out."

Within the shelter of the trees, on the path, Shishka successfully jumps a log
fallen across the path without losing his rider. Of course he doesn't lose
her -- Tat'iana being one of the more skilled equestrians to call the Palace
home in a long time. A grin actually touches her lips, a far improvement over
the solemn, severe expression she's been seen to wear much of the time of late.
If she knew, however, the ruckus her impromptu ride has raised... she might not
be so light of heart.

Azil tracks back on the path only half a length behind Tat'iana. The horses are
running together now, Azil taking the log only seconds after Shishka. Her hooves
thud rhymically against the soft dirt. Emylie's skirts are up around her waist
by now and streaming behind her, not that she's even paying attention. She's
focused on Azil and on the sheer joy of riding wildly with Her Majesty.

Yvgenie has brought his own mount up to a ground-devouring gallop, the red hound
racing before them, now and then emitting a yip of sheer enthusiasm. In a rare
fit of practicality, Yv shifts his grip on the reins to reach for his com, and
attempts to contact the EMpress.

Silence and random bursts of static greet the attempted contact. Either she's
ignoring the call, or, has switched off her communicator.

Figures seeing that the Empress is highly intelligent even though she puts her
life endanger and the career of the Hegemon. It is a wonder that the Emperor
does not have the head of the Sardaukar Commander on a pike outside the cannon
green.



 The Hegemon continue ride on as his horse thunders away at the ground under
them. The great wardog follows the trail, not at the pace of Viscount's dog, but
still at a good speed.

Wensicia remains crouched low atop her steed's neck, so as to create the least
resistance. Her path stays fixed in the direction of her Majesty's favored
riding course, since that seems logical, her eyes roll slightly at the thought
of the fit the Sardaukar has riled himself up into as she speeds breakneck
across the greens towards the edge of the trees.

Emylie has disconnected.

Through the dense trees, along the path, Shishka gallops as fast as he dares.
But they finally clear the trees, and burst out into a clearing. A rather large
one. Down a small hill, the horse charges, and skids to a stop at the placid
lakeside. Tat'iana, out of breath from the ride, finally looks around and behind
her.

Following like an echo is the cadence of the Andalusian's hooves, as Yv follows
the red dog through the woods.

Slade follows Yvgenie's lead.

Wensicia's horse daintily jumps the same log so recently cleared by the Empress
and Emylie and continues to speed off down the trail with the grace of long
training, belying her stature.

As tempting as it might be to dismount, and lay amongst the tall grasses by the
lake to watch the clouds scoot across the sky above, much as she might have done
as a girl, Tat'iana remains on her horse, and sets him to a slower, more
leisurely pace around the lake's edge. He seems quite content with this,
prancing beneath her from time to time playfully.

Still full of energy despite his relatively headlong dash, the hound scampers up
to Tat's horse, waving that whip-like tail. Look, he found her, isn't he a good
dog? Yes, he's a good dog! Yv also lets the horse slow..he's not trying to
intrude on the Empress, only to keep her in sight.

The Rottweirler howls loudly at aquiring a visual lock on the Empress signalling
the Hegemon who finds himself with in sight of the Empress. The Hegemon does not
let his horse slow like the Viscount and makes his way over to her. "Empress..."

Wensicia allows her own horse to dance easily between the empress' and the
hegemon's, even giving it enough riegn to nip briefly at the flank of Slade's
monstrous beast. Her mouth is sealed, a politic smile plastered to her red lips,
but her intention is obvious, if the Hegemon intends to make an ass of himself
in an attempt to chastise the empress then she is certainly prepared to deal
with him like last time.

Tat'iana peers down at the hound as Shishka prances a few steps away from the
dog. "Why hello, where did you come-" the query directed down to the dog ends
abruptly, as human voices reach her ears. She looks up, brow creasing as the
Hegemon charges up, and on his heels the Duchess. Softly, she sighs, resisting
the urge to roll her eyes heavenwards. "What -is- it?" she snips testily,
gripping the reigns even as her jaw clenches with irritation.

Yv keeps silent, perhaps wisely, as his dog goes racing back and forth between
the white horse and Shishka. Let Slade explain things.

In response to the nip from the Duchess' horse, Apocalypse slams his thick head
against the horse before Slade grabs the reigns to settle it down.


 The Hegemon looks over at the Empress with confusion. "Your Majesty, I was
wondering why you did not tell your Noukkers that you intented to leave them and
go off without protection?"

Wensicia's barb snaps its teeth warningly, perhaps it doesn't have the muscle
mass of the behemoth, but it has the heart, and stands at least a pair of hands
taller, if daintier. Wen herself continues in same, her position rigid and
straight, and her expression stoic, facing full towards the Hegemon, with the
Empress placed protectively behind her, who says nobles don't have the whole
mother-hen thing going on any way?

Tat'iana does then roll her eyes, sighing once again with exasperation. She
lifts a hand, waving it at the trees about her. "Both times I have suffered
injury, it has been at the planning and hands of the Chancellor. Yes, Hegemon,
he was the one who tampered with my saddle, just before His Majesty and I were
married. Given that he is now gone, and given that I am sick to death of being
watched even until and as I enter the baths, I should think that a personal
matter such as the choosing of the location of my son's grave -might- just be a
moment where I might remain unmolested and unwatched. Do you not agree,
Hegemon?"

Slade says, "You wish for me to explain to the Emperor that the reason for his
Empress being attacked in the middle of the woods was because she was unwatched?
Being Empress, your Majesty, does have its burdens to bare, as you already
know."

Yvgenie looks pointedly innocent, as his dog finally sits at the feet of the
stallion, panting.

Wensicia shakes her head disgustedly in Slade's direction, "I'm quite surprised,
Hegemon, that the Emperor hasn't found a good reason for your head to be
decorating the cannon greens yet... Do I make myself clear? Not that I would
want to threaten one so auspicious as you, of course." her tone absolutely drips
sarcasm, and her expression speaks volumes as to her thoughts on the Sardaukar.
She softens lightly as she turns to include Tat'iana in her next statement, "It
will appease you, with the Empress' permission, that I will remain here with
her, and you and your men may adjourn back to the main fields... As you are
certainly aware, I have full Imperial sanction, and am recognized by the Emperor
as swordmistress of high degree in several disciplines..."

"The only things attacking me now are mosquitos," Tat'iana retorts icily.
"Report to the Emperor what you will, Hegemon. What do you think he'll do, turn
me over his knee? Forget it. I'll choose the location another time." She grants
the Duchess a quick, but grateful nod, and wheels her horse about to set him
back on the path towards the gilded cage of the Palace. This time, at a walk, so
that all might keep up with her.

"Duchess, do not make threats against me. I am the Emperor's supreme
representative and I am acting on his authority. Swordmastering abilites have no
use against assassins." Hegemons turns his horse looking over to the Empress as
he rides on ahead. "I do not forget my oathes so easily, your Majesty."

<<Yvgenie thinks: Well, he's more than a bit of a one trick monkey, isn't he?>>

Wensicia smiles really rather prettily, "Thank you for your services then,
Hegemon... However, despite what your oaths may or may not be worth, it does not
give you the place to judge my words. However, here's a bit you can judge. In
the grand scheme of things, you may as well be the Emperor's supreme
representative to my beflowered ass." her statement is deadly calm, without even
a hint of a smile at the mildly hilarious curse, "I beg to differ with your
comprehension of your own station here, and the next time you even look at me
funny, not to mention prattling on about yourself embarrasingly before the
Empress, I'll have you before a tribunal for sedition, or something equally
interesting. Don't ever understimate my power to threaten you, little man." And
with that, she pirouettes her horse sharply and follows off after the Empress at
a stately trot, leaving the Hegemon to do as he will.

Yvgenie is wearing a pokerface, as solemn as a Judge of Change. He hasn't much
moved, only to keep distance from the EMpress, the Andalusian standing as if
posing to be sculpted for a monument in the meanwhile. At the dressing-down from
the Duchess, he doesn't flicker an eyelash..but his faced reddens. He's very
clearly clamping down on laughter.

Behind her, Tat'iana hears what's going on. She would laugh herself, but she's
yet fuming about being addressed as she was. There are sure to be words spoken
tonight, indeed. The Rastanyev temper is not something that is outgrown. It just
isn't.

Slade stares at the back Duchess stoically. "Duchess, you have no authority over
me and not even the Chancellor or Justiciar out ranks me. Your threats carry no
weight against me. It would be best that you knew the inner structure of the
house before you opend your mouth. The government of the Universe works
differently than the Emperor's Harem. I am not some soft minded concubine that
you can bitch around. It is not my fault you do no know the first thing about
security concerns. All the fancy sword training you might know want save you.
And I will look at you and damn way I please, you pain the ass, good for nothing
woman. This shall be the last day that any one takes a Sardaukar lightly."

Tat'iana slows her horse, and glances over her shoulder to the bickering Slade
and Wensicia. "Hegemon, shut up. And that is an order from someone who -does-
outrank you. You'll remember courtesies due a lady in my presence. Is this
clear?" The Rastanyev temper might not wait, after all.

Slade scowls but keeps his mouth shut and nods letting his face lose all
expression.

Wensicia rides effortlessly past the hegemon, something akin to murder in her
eyes, though very controlled, it is an obviously banked smoulder. Without a
word, she continues up the trail to fall in just behind the Empress, casting her
a glance, but not saying a word. Perhaps it /is/ time to have a word with the
Emperor about the Hegemon, this scene just seems to keep repeating itself.

------------------

The silent group reaches the stables, and Tat'iana slips down out of her saddle
before Shishka is even fully at a stop. She doesn't hand off his reigns
immediately, though, stopping to slip him a few treats and a few well-deserving
scratches around his ears and cheeks.

Cerberus has left.

Slade takes Cerberus.

The mass of the company regroups and dismounts, eventually returning back to the
barracks leaving only the Hegemon and the Noukkers. The Hegemons dismounts
finally, still not speaking a word, and hands his horse and dog over to a
stablekeep. He pets he horse a few times before looking over to the Noukkers.

Wensicia dismounts from her barb nimbly, undoing the girth and rump straps
herself and handing the ornamental affair to a stable boy, who staggers under
the weight. From a pocket somewhere, a few lumps of sugar appear for the fine
animal, and her hands gently go to its mane, teasing out wind-tangles.

Tat'iana murmurs a few more sweet nothings to her stallion, then turns and
begins making her way back inside the Palace. A stablehand takes the reigns as
soon as they are dropped, and walks Shishka off to be hosed down and re-groomed.

Slade walks after the Empress as the Noukkers form up around her.

Wensicia semi-reluctantly hands the reigns of her prize animal off to the stable
hands and falls into step behind the other, pacing with them back into the
palace proper.

Quietly, over her shoulder, Tat'iana mutters, "I intend to take a bath, Hegemon.
Is it your intention, then, to watch that also? Do you wish to watch me eat?
What about as I dress for bed? Or spend time with my children? I am tired of
being watched by guards, Suks, or yourself. Ever since the incident with the
Chancellor, I've not had a true moment to myself. Always, I am watched. Always!
It is almost as if you watch me to see what I will do, not to see what anyone
will try to do to me..."

Slade says, "It is the way things are, your Majesty. I...wish not to talk about
such things in the open."

Wensicia smiles ever so faintly as the Hegemon's response drifts backwards, and
she comments, quietly, to no one in particular, almost certainly too quietly to
be heard, "Yes, that's it Hegemon, hesitation. It's hesitation that will be your
undoing."

"Very well then," Tat'iana murmurs. "Then we will talk about such things.
Later." She continues on into the Palace, her stride quick and agitated.




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