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Zenrel
—  Reading Wiltshire  —
Av
Zenrel
Zenrel2
Coat of arms
Personal motto: By Conscience By Oath
Full title Norroy King of Arms
Place of Residence (unknown), Reading, Wiltshire
Affiliations The Masked Vigils, College of Heraldry, England
In-game name Zenrel
Account created December 1455
Forum name Zenrel


Zenrel is the latest in a list of characters by the same player.

The Repeat OffenderEdit

There comes a time in every RKian's life when they wonder, should they really be here. That question was asked many times in this particular RK career and usually the answer was a rather reluctant NO. When the question was first asked, it proved to be the end of the first character that any real effort had been put into, Zenrel. From then on launched a series of characters, each a little different from the other. Well none were quite like good ol' Zen. Hereunder may be found a brief account of a few of the more well known lives lived.,

ZenrelEdit

Zenrel Andylin Rackham-Phoenix, daughter of Lord Novak James Phoenix AKA John Rackham. Her brother was Grendell Rackham and her sister Elian Rackham. Zenrel lived at the Phoenix manor but spent some time at her brother's residence, Uffington Hall. Zenrel served in the Knights of the Phoenix (unrelated to the family name) gaining the rank of Sgt and Town Commander of Barnstaple. She was not the most honest of persons and she spent time dabbling with the Wolves of Sherwood and tormenting members of the NNGO. Fleeing from the humiliation of being cast from their halls as a disgrace, Zenrel ran to Warwick where she had been born there she was arrested by the inquisition and tried for her crimes against the kingdom and against the almighty Jah.

EldahriaEdit

Eldahria Lancaster, niece to His Grace, Zerostar Lancaster, then Duke of Sussex and General of the Army of the Knights of the Phoenix. Eldahria, named Elda by her friends was born in Southampton but moved to Stafford as soon as she were old enough to travel alone. There along with a man named Valatan she founded the Stafford Guard. The army protected the feeble new northern lands against the ever present threat of the Wolves of Sherwood who were said to have held great sway over the peoples of Worcester which bordered Stafford. Elda took up a position as a Herald in the English College of heraldry and it was not long before she was named Norroy King of Arms. As Norroy Elda led the artists who designed and blazoned the arms of the English peoples. As a herald, Elda was expected to give her opinion on those nominated for noble titles. Her opinion was always given without bias nor the influence of others. The college became her life and she spent many hours of every day within its halls working to guide the new and old artist to even greater standards of heraldry.

It was while leaving her office within the Stafford Guard halls that Elda first met Gourounisios. A common soldier but a kind man, Elda and he soon found themselves unable to leave the other for more than a day without having to hurry back. They were soon to be married and it was not uncommon to find the two of them riding out together at the head of a Stafford Guard Patrol swords drawn and wary for signs of wolves. It was obvious to those closest to them that they each sought only to protect the other.

Trouble came to Stafford not long before Elda and Gour were expecting to say their vows. Wolves swarmed through the countryside and headed north. The Guard followed but stayed within the borders of Stafford, intent on protecting their home. An attack was launched on the Palantine County of Chester and Elda left orders to prepare to defend Stafford then rode off alone to see for herself how badly Chester fared.

Three days later, a cart was drawn by a tired looking donkey into Lichfield. Elda lay upon the hay in the cart, her bloodstained uniform carefully straightened and her cloak spread out beneath her. Three black shafted arrows protruded from deep wounds in her chest leaving no doubt she had been murdered. It was suspected she never saw her attacker and though a search was actioned briefly, the plight of Chester drew the attention of most.

Elda was buried as a faithful Aristotlean, her funeral attended by members of the guard and by her near husband. It is said by those that lingered longest that the devastated Gour cut his own hands on her sword as he knelt by her grave then dry eyed, left the bloodied sword by her along with the ring he had given her.

SeraphimEdit

Seraphim MacGillivray was born in Galloway, Scotland but lived most of her life in the county of Ayr in a town called Girvan. She joined the Royal Scottish Army and was soon appointed to the Military Council and then to Military Council Spokesperson. She served as Captain of Ayr for two consecutive terms and again for a third later on. As the RSA grew and changed Sera was chosen to command the Ayr regiment as Regimental General and continued to serve as Military council spokesperson. When the Scottish Constitution was being written Sera was one of those chosen by the clans to join together with others to debate the articles of the charter until the final wording was decided on. When King James II elected to place a regent on the throne, Sera fought hard against it at the risk of being accused of treason, working to see the regent removed and the position of steward created instead. After weeks of petitioning and arguing the regent stepped down and left the seat empty allowing the national assembly to be formed and a Steward elected. Sera was elected by her clan to serve on the first national assembly of Scotland and she wore the badge proudly knowing she was not only the voice of her clan, the Macgillivrays, but also that of her beloved army. Later, Seraphim left Scotland, obeying her desire to see beyond its constrictive borders. She is rumored to have gone even farther than England and traveled on to France or Spain.


SiberithEdit

Siberith lives in Arundel, Sussex and has recently become a guest in the English college of heraldry, a member the Arundel Castle Guard and a member of The Sussex Army. She has settled happily in the township and continued her work as a blacksmith providing the soldiers with swords, the farmers with knives and the milkmaids with hooped buckets. She looks forward to seeing where the Sussex army might take her and is glad to live among friends.

Zenrel IIEdit

Zenrel spent most of her life upon a ship. Starting from when she was seven years old, Zenrel became somewhat of a goodluck charm for the crew of the Margarett. A merchant ship that spent more time trading goods with other ships far out to sea than it did at any of the port towns.

Zenrel did not know her mother although she had heard rumours from some of the older crewmen that she had been no more than a dock whore Zenrel's father was fond of. Her father would not speak of it and so the rumours remained all Zenrel had.

Her father, the Captain's first mate, had dark hair and dark skin as many of the crew did, whereas Zenrel had hair as red as a flamebird's plumage and skin as white as the full moon.

When the ship did make berth to collect supplies that could not be gotten from other ships at sea, Zenrel would find herself the centre of attention with many staring faces and whispered remarks aimed her way. When she was fourteen a man came up to their land party. He was selling strange looking furry creatures with long curling tails and hands that looked and grasped just like a child's. They made such a horrible chatter that Zenrel had to cover her ears. The man would not stop looking at her and soon began to point at her and try to give her father a small brown leather bag.

Zenrel's father kept shaking his head and looking at Zenrel with sad eyes. She later discovered from one of the crew that the man had wanted to buy her and was offering her father a considerable amount of gold. When the man had gone away Zenrel's father took her straight back to the ship anchored out in the bay. While they remained another full seven day, Zenrel was never allowed to accompany the land parties.

On the night before they were meant to set sail again, Zenrel's father and much of the crew went back ashore one last time. Their last chance to enjoy the luxuries of town. Zenrel was asleep when they returned, but awoke when her cabin door was opened. One of the crewmen threw a blanket over her head and picked her up. Unable to see, Zenrel could only feel that she was being taken down deep into the ship’s cargo holds and then roughly shoved into a space between several crates. The crewman uncovered her head and put his finger to his lips. His eyes were wide and there was a dark stain on one side of his head. Zenrel was afraid and huddled in the blanket between the crates watching as the crewman ran back up the stairs.

There was shouting up on deck and the unmistakable sound of clashing swords. Zenrel was not even sure whoever was up there was speaking English. The sounds died down after a time and Zenrel felt the ship begin to roll side to side. They had left the bay and were moving over the larger waves just out to sea.

Slowly she crept up the stairs and looked out onto the deck. Several of the crew were there, some were hauling up buckets of sea water and sloshing it over the deck, others were tying sheets around long bundles. All of the bundles had dark stains spreading over the cloth. One by one the bundles were tossed into the sea where they sank below the waves.

Zenrel searched for her father amongst those on deck but could not see him. She spied the Captain as he came out of his cabin wiping his sword on a bit of rag. When he caught sight of her he had the most terrible look upon his face. Twisted as though he were in pain. The Captain gathered Zenrel up in his arms and took her into his cabin. There on the Captains floor lay her father. His skin, normally so dark was ashen and his eyes were closed. Zenrel wanted to go to him, but the captain held onto her and would not let her down.

She knew he was dead, there was no breath and he lay so very very still. Another of the dark stains spread over his chest and side only this time the oil lamp illuminating the room showed it for what it was. Red blood, spread from a wound as wide as Zenrel small fist.

She cried for many nights and would not eat, only begging to be thrown overboard so she might join her father at the bottom of the sea.

For another eight years, Zenrel sailed with the Margarett. Going from strange land to strange land. They were threatened by pirates so often that the crew decided it would be best to teach Zenrel the art of sword fighting and in hard times, when too many men had been lost over board or fallen to the fever, Zenrel was asked to help out with the ship work.

It was not many months past her twenty second year marker that the Captain offered his hand to Zenrel in marriage. Abhorred by the idea of marrying a man old enough to be her grandfather, Zenrel demanded she be allowed to go ashore when next they made berth.

To a small port town on the shores of England they came next and Zenrel took a small bag of food and walked away from the docks. She skirted around the town and headed North West.

She walked for days until she saw a sign post pointing to London. Fearing truth in the dark tales she had heard of that place, Zenrel did her best to avoid taking that direction.

She continued heading North West as much as the roads would allow her, taking refuge in barns and inns when she could find the work to pay for the room.

Through her travels Zenrel clung to memories of her father and the stories he would tell. She tried hard to remember all he had told her of England. She remembered he spoke of a place called Worcester and names of two people who lived there. A woman called Laurente and a man called Grendell. While Zenrel had no real expectations of finding these two, she hoped that perhaps she might at least find who they were and why her father had mentioned them from his past.

It was the day Zenrel crossed the border into Worcester that she discovered the fate of the two mysterious faceless names. A small thatched cabin became a shelter from a storm on the very edge of Worcester, marked by a sign on the side of the road.

Zenrel was not the only one to consider the small cabin a good place to get out of the rain. An old man came in shortly after she did and barely glanced at her before going about building a fire in the hearth. Again with no word and barely looking at her, the man broke apart a loaf of bread and handed one half to her. Too hungry to be frightened, Zenrel ate the bread and thanked the man while swallowing the last of it. He simply grunted at her and curled up by the fire. Zenrel followed suit and soon drifted off into a light sleep. When she woke it was evening and the old man was sitting up poking at the dying fire.

He looked at her now in the dim light and smiled an almost toothless grin. Zenrel smiled back, remembering he had fed her and kept her warm. The rain had stopped and Zenrel stood and made to leave but the old man was quick. He had hold of her arm before she had even reached the door.

He made her sit and began to talk while pacing about the room. He told story after story of past times in Worcester. He told of a secret group of friends who used to roam these lands and how they had grown strong and powerful here. As he spoke, Zenrel listened, fascinated by his words.

She was enjoying a particularly good tale of a man who was robbed and how several of these "friends" had gone after the thief and brought him to justice their own way when a familiar name parted the man’s lips....Grendell.

Zenrel sat up straight and shouted at him to stop. She demanded he explain how he knew that name. The man laughed showing his greyed gums. His eyes twinkled as he continued talking.

Hours later Zenrel was wandering alone into the heart of Worcester. Saddened by the news the man had given her. Grendell was dead, long dead and so was Laurente. In her hand she carried an object that glinted in the early morning sunlight. A gift the man had given her, a mask made of brass and carved inside it the words, Friend of Sherwood.

After a misunderstanding in Worcester, Zenrel took to the roads in the companionship of a man named Jakob. As they travelled the two grew close. Through conversation, Zenrel noted the mention of a familiar sounding name associated with Jakob's family. Having written to Jakob's Aunt in order to investigate that which she felt may be true, Zenrel and Jakob headed back to Worcester in order to intercept any reply from the woman. It was on their way that the two fell into each others arms for comfort and found not only friendship, but Love.

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