Battle For Elune Part 2
July 22, 2020, 4:30 p.m.
Outside Arx - Mourning Isles near Estroch - Estroch
Comments and Log
A Small Recap.
In our last chapter, our party decided to split up and do vastly different things. For Domonico, this meant having the time of his life. For Valdemar, this meant (probably) drinking and enduring a wild caravel ride. For Sirius, this meant getting driven insane inside of the castle as he prepares the ground troops. For Ilira, this meant making a squirrel friend and attempting to seduce some random sellsword out in the middle of the woods.
To each, their own.
But now, the next chapter in our adventure begins.
Domonico has just dropped off Valdemar at the Western Boundary, at his fleet. Due to his smooth sailing skills, he's shaved a lot of time off of the time it would have taken to sail /all/ the way around. It was a risky move, but it has paid its dividends.
Sirius finds himself looking for a scratching down between War Room and battlements - and has found that the sound is loudest outside of the war room (but has yet to investigate, I dont'think).
Valdemar finds himself on his flagship (if you named it, I cannot recall it) with his crew at a frantic pace getting the fleet ready to sail at his command.
What is your next move?
Madness — sublimity of the intelligence, or so it has been said before. There's no man more fastidious and thorough than Sirius Valardin, and so when it is confirmed through the ears of the Grim Sergeant in his company alongside the men and women that form his platoon of swords the task of uprooting this budding evil is made clear. "Unroll the curtains, fan clear the furniture and out of the way I want those racks. We need to understand where the sound comes from," Sirius, upon pushing aside the war room in the company of his armed coterie. His orders are seamlessly given, each directed by an articulation of fingers that point and command this way or that. His own feet move soft across the ground, ethereal, and he remains attentive to anything that could've spotted, seen. Interacted with.
Aboard the Spear of the Grim Duke once he and Domonico briefed the officers of the Grim Fleet and sent the Legion toward Elune through the mountains, Valdemar is on the deck of the dromond in his diamondplate armor, barking orders at every one of his officers in sight. The goal: to get his fleet to the bay with all haste so that they are in place and ready when the enemy arrives. Now that it is time to move, his focus is single-minded, knowing how much of the defense of the island rests on house Grimhall's ships.
Valdemar checked command + war at difficulty 15, rolling 38 higher.
Iseulet had thought that her castle's furnishings were safe from SIrius' notorious furniture-directed wrath and so somewhere, undoubedly, in the castle she feels a chill. A disturbance in the force, when Sirius gives those orders. Several guards and soldiers leap to Sirius' aid and begin tearing down the war room and piling up all the furniture as quickly as possible just outside, in the great hall.
The scratching continues and when Sirius remains still for just a moment, and realizes that it's coming from outside the war room, he's drawn over to the wooden staircase that leads up to the catwalk that looms high above the hall. The base is enclosed with wood, of course, and there.
He's sure of it. The sound. At this proximity, he can hear the thunk of wood upon stone and then more scratching.
Valdemar steers his ships hard east toward the craggy cliffs of Elune that meet the sea. Here, it's turbulent and the sea is foamy with its rage as it collides with stone, locked in an eternal battle to etch away. He's expecting to see an entrance. An opening, some sort of relief as promised by the Prince - an easy route through the mountains but nothing appears. It looks like he's going to have to search for it!
Domonico had the charts and maps along with Valdemar, pinpointing the approximate location of the convoy and working out the best ships to detach from the Grim Fleet to accompany the Tempest. Soon he is back on his caravel and signalling to the Grim Duke that he is ready to depart.
The Spear of the Grim Duke signals back to the Tempest that they are ready to depart as well, to seek the passage through the mountains. When they reach the vicinity and don't see it at first, Valdemar yells up to the watchers in the crow's nest, "Peel your eyes open up there, or I'll find someone to do it for you!" He is also searching in his own right, watching the mountains to the east for signs of the passage from the highest point on the deck of his ship.
Iseulet GM Roll checked perception(4) at difficulty 20, rolling 1 higher.
Valdemar checked perception at difficulty 20, rolling 6 higher.
Soon, silence reigns within the War room. All eyes, of guardsmen and officer alike, settle on Sirius, while he himself - the Prince - stares off into an unknown distance of nothingness as if to discard this useless sense of seeing to make broader space for hearing, and that unnamable sixth sense at the back of one's neck in alliance with there hairs. And they rise, when the thudding commences anew and he realizes its location. "Swords," he breathes out, quietly; "Swords!" He calls out louder, a cruel and imminent order, as blades are drawn from their sheathes. Culdrake amongst them. He quickly braces out of the grand doorway. "Wedge the base open, there," he says, blade drawn outwards to the end of the stairwell where the wood is.
Sirius wields Culdrake, the chivalrous alaricite longsword.
Iseulet GM Roll checked luck(2) at difficulty 15, rolling 7 higher.
Domonico is ready to roll with half the Grim Fleet, the Tempest at the head, leading the way down south. A very general direction, but he knew the path that the Empyrean Route normally took by heart. Swinging in wide, he just has a /feeling/ like the sea is pulling him along a current, drawing the Tempest in an arc tha heads slighly east before swaying west again.
It makes no sense to the Grim Fleet at his heels, the way this Southerner decides to sail in seemingly a meandering path but there it is. What Domonico had been drawn to: The Southern Skerry. A little outcropping of a rock seemingly out in the middle of the ocean. Uninhabiable, maybe it's home to birds, but it's entirely useless for human population of any kind.
As for Valdemar, he's been blessed by keen eyesight and while his men could see /something/ amiss in one of the cliff faces, it was he that spots the optical illusion. Due to the striations of color on the cliff face, the sharp bend in the rocks was almost entirely disguised. Thankfully, the tide was low and looked like he could get his ships through. But it was dark and of course, the waves here were choppy at the entrance, but smoothed out several yards past the yawning cavernous entrance.
Domonico checked perception at difficulty 15, rolling 7 lower.
Sirius is faced with a delimma.This was it. This was definitely where the sound was coming from and now... it stops. As if to rest. Or maybe whatever was behind the wall was actually started by the noise everyone was making and decided to keep its head down for a minute. Regardless, the silence is profound.
Valdemar furrows his brow when he sees the cave; yes, it is wide enough for ships, but making it through without natural light was going to be a risk. Taking a moment to consider his options, he yells at his crew, "Get every lamp and lantern we have on board out on deck! No open flames, but we need as much light as possible! And signal the rest of our ships to do the same!" It might be madness, but sailing around, at this point, would just take too long.
Sirius checked perception + riddles at difficulty 20, rolling 26 higher.
Domonico looks around behind him at the Grim Fleet following the Tempest before his eyes sweep across the horizon, taking a deep breath as he thinks before calling up to the crows nest, "Anything sighted?"
Valdemar checked command + war at difficulty 20, rolling 32 higher.
Valdemar checked perception + sailing at difficulty 25, rolling 3 higher.
Once again, silence reigns. It is the impending arrival of his party that brings forth such a subversive element, he knows; and so he decides on outstretching a hand left to his side with fingers outstretched, a clear and universal sign to "stand down." Sirius himself curls his wrist, letting Culdrake's center of balance falter and undulate so that he can slip its alaricite edge back into the faded and worn scabbard it's oft hidden in. He leans in, gazing up and across the wall to realize upon a once-hidden rhizome of outlines that shape a curiously-made door disguised by the wooden contrast it's shifted in, and a lack of visible sill. With a careful and just as curious right grip he reaches in, prodding the sides of its shape for a handle and realizing there's none... he pushes. And the small edification gives in, digging into the wall, dripping dust and stickered as it's shifted aside and he quietly enters the room it once hid, nervous soldiers and their torches following behind him.
Domonico didn't need any help sighting anything. There was the island. And it is swarming with longships, grouped safely enough close to the outcropping, their sails hidden and folded, tucked away to keep their position. Some are stained black, some are deem emerald green and others wine red. The problem is... Domonico can't manage to estimate their numbers from this distance.
And there, on the horizon, are familiar ships approaching. The Route is getting ready to pass by. And soon.
Valdemar, every sailor has heard your order and every sailor is scrounging for those lanterns, scraping together what they can find and fast. As the fleet approaches the maw of the cavern, it's easy enough to navigate to the entrance - choppy seas aren't enough to deter any good Thraxian sailor, let alone the talent of the Grim Duke himself.
But once inside, it's eerie. And it's narrow. And it's dark. This passage is a straight forward one. There would be no use of the sails in here. There would be no turning around. This was it.
But it's passable. And eventually, the lantern light begins to reveal details of the passage. Rock and stone give way to polished columns holding up the ceiling, and stalagtites eventually give way to stunning vaulted ceilings before the passageway widens and...
Valdemar checked perception at difficulty 20, rolling 11 lower.
Valdemar is watching as closely as he can as his ships begin to make their way into the cave. There are some surprised gasps as they see the columns and vaulted ceilings, but he warns his crew, "Pay attention to what you're doing! It is too dark in here for us to allow ourselves to get distracted!" He does make note, however, to tell Iseulet about this, should they all make it through.
Domonico squints as he looks at the enemy longships, noting the different colours of sails. "Likely to be different Abandoned Houses..." he muses half to himself before he looks to the Grimhall liason officer assigned to the Tempest (because of course that would be a thing). "There is the Empyrean Trade Fleet. They have a few warships defending them but less than ten." A glance at the Grim Fleet then back to the outcropping with all the longships. "Order five Dromonds to form up into a wedge. They will be the spear tip. Support them with the galleys. Longships are to fall upon those that have been rammed or engaging the dromonds and galleys. Last two dromonds are to follow the Tempest... along with their supporting ships. If we hurry... we can strike them while they are still at rest as they may be watching to thr South for the Trade Fleet." He hmmms, "Send the orders and tell the fleet. Prepare for battle."
Sirius' slender fingers find a cleverly disguised little latch - a design he was all together already familiar with having been used in many noble homes for hidden servant's passageways, hidden away behind a false board that *clicks* open a door no higher than his knee revealing a hollow beneath the stairs. A vast chasm of black and - a flash of steel! A feral man whose teeth would be best served by a pair of pliers, wearing a sneer and scraps of leather armor cobbled together from various pieces, his torso and chest left nude and well oiled, painted with terrible battle scars and old wounds from weapon and animal alike.
The second that the door opens, he's flinging himself out at Sirius, issuing forth a war cry like non he'd ever heard before. Wild. Abandoned. Savage. He had murder in his eyes.
Valdemar's lanterns drive out the very pale blue-green glow of the worms tha hang above, spinning a loom of glowing, globular webs - enough perhaps in which to sail by, had his lanterns been extinguished. However, with the brightness in contrast to the consuming shadows around him and his ships he (and all his sailors) missed another crucial detail: The Other Ships. Unfortunately, those other ships did not miss him.
In fact - the prow of the Spear is set to plunge into one - and he has to make evasive actions /now/ or suffer the severe consequences - a flash of light reveals eager and very amused faces.
The white of Sirius' eyes widen in their scope through a violent dilation bore of adrenaline. He screams- a frightened gasp and shuddering clamor that meets the shouts of the wildman himself, now charging at him. Now, Prince Sirius Valardin is not a wildman himself, so one has to question why he'd decide to drop all civility and... meet the destitute man in his charge head-on. Indeed, he'd then attempt to ram him into with charging speed and fling him over his shoulder into the warband of soldiers behind him.
Valdemar checked command + war at difficulty 35, rolling 15 higher.
Sirius checked strength + brawl at difficulty 20, rolling 17 higher.
Iseulet GM Roll checked dexterity(3) + sailing(2) at difficulty 20, rolling 3 lower.
"The fuck...hard to starboard, hard to starboard! And signal the rest of the crew that we have enemies!" Valdemar exclaims when he notices the ships that are in the cave already, and that the Spear of the Grim Duke is about to crash into one. As his crew scrambles to follow the sudden orders, he puts on his helmet and growls to himself as he surveys the situation before him, "How in the Abyss did they get in here ahead of us?" Once they are clear of the threat of crashing...or once it happens...he can focus on what comes next.
Iseulet GM Roll checked dexterity(3) + sailing(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 18 higher.
Domonico checked intellect + war at difficulty 20, rolling 25 higher.
Domonico checked command + sailing at difficulty 20, rolling 36 higher.
Domonico checked command + war at difficulty 20, rolling 72 higher.
When he sees that the Spear is going to graze that column, Valdemr braces himself against the impact. Thankfully the ship remains seaworthy, but when he then notices the enemy ships getting ready to try to board him, he calls out to the crew, "To arms! Prepare to be boarded! Kill any of them that make it onto our deck!" He moves to join his men at the side of his ship most likely to see enemies trying to board, drawing his greatsword from its sheathe at his back.
Valdemar wields Widow's Lament.
Domonico assesses the situation, makes a decisive plan of attack, and goes for the first offensive. The group of longships gathered at the skerry are completely caught unawares as apparently they were all looking toward the delicious sea-based gravy train headed their way. It wasn't until the last minute when he heard the enemy cry in Isles Shav something to the effect of "INCOMING!" should he know the tongue. Indeed, he had caught them with their pants down so to speak. They are dead in the water and he is full speed ahead.
Iseulet GM Roll checked dexterity(2) + dodge(2) at difficulty 37, rolling 17 lower.
Sirius catches the man off guard.
Yes, that's it. Totally offguard. Maybe it was the scream? Who knows. But the man's forward momentum was just too damn forward to stop. He had known there was a risk of retaliation and he had taken it. Element of surprise be damned though, Sirius is far too quick. Over his shoulder heads the oily, scarred up mad man and through the air he sails, hitting his mark. The group of soldiers - two were nocked down with the surprise and the force and the others managed to catch the flailing, slippery bastard. Well, it was quite easy. Two of them promptly sat on him to pin him and force the air from his lungs to get him to STOP SCREAMING OH MY GOD.
On a happier note, however? It looks like Sirius might have invented bowling.
The masts of the Tempest flutter with numerous flags. Magnotta, the Compact, the Empyrean and that of Mangata herself. A horn is blown, the call to war and is answered by near a hundred from the Grim Fleet, a voicing of the death coming for the enemy. The caravel leads the two dromonds accompanying it (and their escorting ships), to sweep past the enemy longships, not slowing but unleashing several volleys of bowfire. The Tempest was not the main attack here but in fact the distraction. As the longships crews frantically tried to get to their oars and unfurl their sails they were completely caught by the speartip of five dromonds. The large Grim Fleet warships bear down on their targets, as their rowers double pace for ramming speed. The cracking of multiple hulls cuts across the sea as the prows and rams reduce the first ships hit in half, splintering the their prey like matchwood.
Bowling? He's invented the offset of a panic attack, as far as he's concerned. "What?!" He shouts, but it sounds more like a declaration as he straightens up from his prone position to lean up and into the wall, heaving for air, "What--what, seize him! Hold him down! Get the manacles, for both ankles and wrists!" he says, order after another, with bated breath. As he can, he helps the warriors up to their feet and pulls a particularly spindly, thin scout into him by the scruff of her leather vest. "Show us the meaning of haste and head to the courtyard, tell the castellan to sound the alarm! Now! They're climbing up the wall facing East!" Releasing her, Sirius nonchalantly rips off a portion of cloth from a nearby curtain, bundles it, and shoves it into the wildman's mouth. "You two, get him to a cell; the rest of you, fan out, meet up with reinforcements and search for infiltrators."
Sweat's all across the brow of Sirius, fading away their black color beneath a glistening of salt. He unsheathes his blade again, and staggers down the hallway and to the stairs where he's meaning to head for the courtyard himself. His feet are uneasy, as if tired, but it's obvious he's still in shock upon being attacked so ferociously.
Sirius wields Culdrake, the chivalrous alaricite longsword.
Valdemar finds himself matched with a decent helmsman at the enemy wheel. Pulling up along side him, out come the steel claws, raining down from above like arms tearing out at him from the darkness, arcing through the lantern light. They fall on the decks and scratch and cling to the railing and with a heave-ho the sailors at the other end of he line pull together the two ships. Men begin to spill over the side, screaming and brandishing their blades - but Valdemar doesn't have this one ship to just worry about - he's a whole half fleet falling in one by one behind him and no way to tell if he's outnumbered or not. But in this subterranian Hall of Stone and the amount of ships gathered before him, he might guess there's plenty of room to position his reinforcements should he wish to.
But right now? Right this instant some slack jawed yocal from gods knows what Abandoned holler in the middle of the Isles is barreling down on him.
Domonico checked command + war at difficulty 15, rolling 51 higher.
Iseulet GM Roll checked command(3) + war(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 20 higher.
Domonico checked command + war at difficulty 15, rolling 40 higher.
Iseulet GM Roll checked command(3) + war(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 0 higher.
Domonico checked command + war at difficulty 15, rolling 50 higher.
Iseulet GM Roll checked command(3) + war(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 1 higher.
Domonico checked command + war at difficulty 15, rolling 49 higher.
Valdemar checked command + war at difficulty 15, rolling 33 higher.
Iseulet GM Roll checked command(3) + war(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 13 higher.
Valdemar checked command + war at difficulty 15, rolling 32 higher.
Iseulet GM Roll checked command(3) + war(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 17 higher.
Valdemar checked command + war at difficulty 15, rolling 36 higher.
Iseulet GM Roll checked command(3) + war(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 11 higher.
Valdemar checked command + war at difficulty 15, rolling 53 higher.
Iseulet GM Roll checked command(3) + war(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 38 higher.
Sirius is saluted by the spindly woman and she clatters away down the halls in her armor like Tehom himself was set out after her. Minus the flailing and screaming bit, probably.
The prisoner is taken, thrashing, to the keep's holding cell where he's thrown in and left to cool down a little.
Outside, he can hear a voice shouting indistinctly and ringing a bell. The guards are fanning out and searching everywhere in the castle but Sirius? Well Sirius now smells something. It's the sea.
Which isn't really funny for a little sea town like Elune, but it's a distinct kind of sea - paired with that old cellar smell. Cold and wet and maybe a little bit moldy. Hangs in the nose. It's actually quite pleasant if you like that kind of thing. But it's cold.
And it's a warm day, and seems to be wafting from the little door just there. You know, the one where the man was launched from and at his neck.
Wait, is that a wisp of burning tobacco? Very pleasant cherry tobacco.
Blade in hand, and a torch taken from one of the rushing-by soldiers in file to search the rest of the castle, Sirius takes a deep breath and leans in. Deep, down to his knees; down to match the height of that small door where he now, very slowly, begins crawling into. He's not very stealthy or quiet at all, in fact he's like a little orchestra of rattling metal as his blade chuffs against the ground, as his silks and clothing tear within the confined space, but through it he crawls.
As the enemy begins to try to swarm over the sides of his ship, Valdemar calls out, "Signal the rest of the fleet to form up on our flanks, as many as can fit in this...hallway and board the enemy!" He then looks to his left and right at the line of men that has formed. "This line holds! This is /our/ ship, and anyone who thinks otherwise pays with their lives! For Grimhall!" he orders them, stomping his foot on the deck. The others take up his battle cry as well, and when the enemy begins to come over the rails, Grimhall reavers are there to meet them, cutting them down with brutal efficiency. As the rest of his ships come up around the Spear to follow suit, the sounds of battle echo through the hallway. It is bloody fighting, but these sellswords didn't seem to realize just who they were ambushing. Not until it was too late, in any case. By the time the fighting slows to a stop, one quarter of the enemy yields.
Valdemar is not the merciful sort, however, especially when he still likely has more fighting ahead of him. Any enemy officers left alive are clapped into shackles and taken below deck to be secured, but the rest? Throats slit and thrown overboard so that any damage to his ships, and those of the enemy, can be assessed before they continue on to the bay outside of Elune.
Sirius is funneled not up toward the battlements but down. Slopes, stairs, a winding little labyrinth. Where the stone turns from newly hewn, smooth stone foundations to crumbling, smaller and much more ancient bricks he begins to realize his mistake. The infiltrator did not in fact, come from above and over the castle walls and fortifications - but beneath it. There are no forks, no meandering paths, not even many twists and turns but eventually he finds another door to block his path. This one is much older wood and here he finds evidence that it's been tampered with. Old iron chains and a lock have been busted, the wood cracked and splintered along its hinges. Really, what did the little door do to them? Here is where he can smell the sea and the wisp of tobacco clearly and...
Iseulet GM Roll checked perception(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 5 higher.
Sirius checked perception at difficulty 15, rolling 7 lower.
Sirius ain't hear shit. Ain't see shit. Ain't tasting shit - nothin. Not a damn thing at all.
But just as he's about to open it he hears a voice. A female one, gruff and rather matter of fact. "I wouldn't open that door if I were you." She sounds unimpressed, whoever she is.
Sirius checked composure at difficulty 10, rolling 5 higher. Sirius rolled a critical!
It is by a miracle of the Pantheon that Sirius isn't made to scream at the very top of his lungs once that disembodied, feminal speech breaks in from the unknown to warn him of possible death beyond the threshold of the door in front of him. He still gasps, but it is a heaving of air muffled beneath his right hand that quickly clasps his mouth shut. Darkness settles in, his torch's light snuffing out. His eyes fail to settle in the black pitchness of the tunnel, and so he perceives nothing but shadows in absolute. The young Prince doesn't answer her, Gods no, he lowers his head and quietly begins crawling back out of the hole like a centipede on the reverse.
Sirius mutters, "I should've stayed home, ... but death ... here. ... a ... Sirius; fool of an ... ..."
The Battle for the Southern Skerry would later on be described as a prime example of what happens when the ambushers become the ambushed, highlighting both the need for competent lookouts and the demoralising effect a surprise attack can have on a naval force caught unawares.
Under Admiral Domonico Magnotta's leadership and clear signalling, the Grimhall fleet inflicted a punishing first strike against the combined Abandoned Sellsword forces who had been waiting to ambush the approaching Empyrean Trade Fleet. Ramming attacks from mighty dromonds shattered numerous longships still in the process of trying to get underway and those that did get men to the oars and avoided the dromonds fell prey to the galleys and longships that followed in their wake.
The waters began filled with sailors who were either flung from their ships or leapt into the waters to avoid death at the hands to the Grimhall warriors as they led savage boarding actions onto the enemy ships.
A counter attack was attempted by the commander of one of the Abandoned factions, with several longships converged on the Admiral Domonico's flagship, the caravel Tempest, with the intention of surrounding and boarding it. This however, played directly into Admiral Domonico's plans, as the Tempest, now under full sail, cut between the ships with a stunning display of sailsmanship, avoiding the attempted trap. The enemy commander now found himself out of position, being rammed both port and starboard by Grimhall galleys that had been waiting for the opportunity given to them.
With the counterattack crushed, the Abandoned Sellsword fleet swiftly capitulated, striking their colours and laying down arms lest they suffer the same fate of their comrades.
Valdemar slits the throats of over 350 men. Tedious work that. And by the end of it, hes riding out of the hidden passage on a tide of frothing blood that spits him out into Izarra bay where the blood draws the attention of many fish, los of little tiny ones that nibble at ay floating chunks that have made it down stream. Thankfully, it's still a calm day. Well it is approaching evening. It had been a hard won battle, but the March of Elune was safe. He saw no pillars of smoke on the horizon. He saw no licking flames or riots of people or even ships fleeing. Everything had been held together since he was gone. What a relief. With the rising of the ide however, he had to evacuate. Tomorrow, they would come back for spoils. Waste not, want not.
Domonico and the rest of the Grim Fleet, in addition to the Empyrean Trade ships and other various odds and ends arrive a little bit later, with several scavengable ships in tow (and their prisoners).
When Sirius resurfaces, incredibly dusty but unharmed, he finds the castle at a relaive peace. On the highest of alerts, and still looking around for those troops that were headed up the east wall. No one could find them.
Looks like SOMEONE forgot to pick up Ilira on the way back home, but, you know. She'll show up again, right?
It isn't Sirius Valardin that resurfaces, it is but an apparition with his outward bearing shining in a beige coloration of stickweed. Waiting for him outside the hole was one curious man-at-arms who had taken it upon himself just to see if he'd end up hearing Sirius' final cries of pain before horrible death by the rat-king surely dwelling in those deeps but it is not the case. "Get the castellan," Sirius says, his voice hoarse, without breath; "Tunnels, they're in the--they're in tunnels, below. The tunnels, below, he'd know. Tell him; tell him to warn the troops." Tired from having crawled half a mile of tunnels worth of distance, the Prince leans into a nearby wall and catches necessary air to hold his building fatigue at bay.
Sirius had called for the castellan before his descent, so luckily someone fitting that type of descripion was on heir way. Unfortunately, he was at least 900 years old but Sirius notices something right off he bat: definitely an Oathlander - the accent, the dress, everything. "I'm Castellan, I am Castellan... Can I help you young Highness?" Don't be offended Sirius, anything younger than dirt to this man was a youngin.
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