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Eirynn MacCumhail

By: Eirynn

Eirynn MacCumhail was born around 26 years ago… she’s unsure, as she was “around 2 years old” when her parents dropped her off at an orphanage in Nuln, never to be seen or heard from again. Eirynn never knew her parents, and didn’t have much “parenting” in her early childhood at the orphanage to make up for it. She learned to fend for herself, pushing off the older boys and girls that would constantly pick on her… life is hard at an orphanage, and being small doesn’t make it any easier.

When Eirynn was 12, a new priest, Brother Erneste came to run the orphanage. He wasn’t a Sigmarite like all the others, but rather a follower of Myrmidia. He was different… less strict, less ill-tempered, more interested in the lives of “his” children. He seemed to want to invest himself in the futures of these orphans, rather than simply ensure their survival until they could be turned loose upon the world. He took special interest in Eirynn, who, he noticed, would often resort to unconventional tactics when dealing with bullies, always pitting them against each other or luring them into enclosed spaces where she could maneuver more easily than they. To him, it was as if she was a natural born tactician, a very reflection of Myrmidia herself. He began training her in the art of the sword, in honoring opponents, and in the ways of warfare. This, of course, helped curb the bullying problem, as it wasn’t long before Eirynn could pick up any stick or small branch and use it as expertly as a rapier in the hands of a duelist to ward off the bigger children.

He would tell her of his native Estallia, the beautiful horses they had, the wonderful architecture that seemed to pierce the very sky itself, and she would daydream about this far off land, and have imaginary adventures full of knights and maidens and massive armies pitted against one another for the very fate of the world. Sometimes, when no one was around, she would take her rock collection, and move them around on the ground as units of troops on the battlefield, waging mock wars against the other rocks on the orphanage grounds. Grass and twigs would become tree lines and dangerous obstacles, and she’d always manage to somehow outmaneuver the dastardly “evil” rocks that plagued the orphanage… never did her small rock army know defeat. Brother Erneste watched his little tactician grow up, enjoying her little mock battles when she thought no one was looking, but secretly worrying what kind of life she would have once she had to leave the orphanage.

As time passed and Eirynn turned 16, Erneste became increasingly worried about Eirynn’s future. At best, someone with no real trade skills might hope to become a rat catcher or fisherman, and no tradesman would take on an orphan as an apprentice… such things were often pseudo-political deals made between peasant families with dreams of grandeur. Brother Erneste began asking around, hoping to find some way to ensure Eirynn would not have a pointless future as a homeless peasant. It was during one of these inquiries that Brother Erneste mentioned that he was once a Master in the order of the Knights of the Blazing Sun. That information made its way to a few thugs, who conspired to kidnap the man and see if they could get some sort of ransom for him, or at least steal his arms and armor and pawn them for a good price.

Brother Erneste, unaware of the plot against him, returned to Nuln, trying to figure out how to tell Eirynn about her dismal future. When he reached the orphanage, he saw Eirynn, marshalling her rocks in yet another battle against the evil other rocks.

“Ahh, it looks like you have some new recruits, Eirynn!” said Brother Erneste as he walked up.

Eirynn grinned at him wryly, “Aha! So, the shadowy figure at last shows his face! I knew you were watching, you sneaky bugger!”

“I… well, it looks as if I’m caught. You’d think an old priest like me would’ve learned by now not to tip my hand so easily! Well caught, Eirynn, well caught.” Brother Erneste said in mock shame.

“And what of them?” Eirynn asked, pointing to the men whom Erneste had not noticed. “Looks like you’ve been recruiting some strange company as well!”

Erneste turned, wondering what she was joking about, when the men burst from the bushes, drawing arms. Erneste pushed Eirynn toward the door, and as the first man reached him, the old knight grabbed the man’s short sword with his bare hand, pulling it down and around his back, causing the man to fly past and tumble to the ground. Erneste then whirled around again, using his new weapon to parry the next attacker into the third. Eirynn, meanwhile, ran upstairs, yelling that Brother Erneste was being attacked, and telling the children to follow her to his study.

Brother Erneste fought valiantly against his attackers, but as a 4th and 5th and 6th man joined the fray, he knew he would soon be overtaken. As his attackers closed, he reached down to his belt where he kept a large horn. Putting his lips to the horn, he breathed his final breath into it, blowing it as loud as he could as blade after blade pierced his torso. The Horn’s loud bellow sounded into the withering daylight, slowly dying out as the old man’s body grew limp.

“You dolts! I said take him, not kill him!” their leader, a particularly rough looking individual with broad shoulders and a rusted iron breastplate, yelled. Discontent with the meager coin purse on the old priest’s body, he commanded them into the orphanage to continue their search for loot. As the men ventured into the old building, one of them noted it was eerily quiet for an orphanage. “Wot? No pitter patter o’ lil feet? It’s not right, this place…”

“Shut your noise!” barked the leader, “and get to searchin’. The old man’s gotta have somethin’ of value in here.” As the men searched the orphanage, they found no sign of the children. Slowly, they made their way upstairs toward the priest’s study, and that’s when the attack began. The first man fell when a large rock fell on his head, dropped from several floors up. The second, slipped on a pair of wooden skates, falling down the stairs, with nothing but the faint giggling of children to belie its intentional nature. The third man fell to a wooden arrow through the eye that looked as if it has been homemade. Reduced to half their number, the leader was having trouble pushing his men forward. It wasn’t until they reached the study, though, that the full weight of what was happening would hit them.

As they opened the room to the study, they noticed a bright light. Inside, each of twenty children held a candle, with the sudden light nearly blinding the intruders. The man on the leader’s left screamed in agony, then laid silent as the sound of small feet faded behind them. “Ernst and Gretchin… they were always so good at hide and seek, and you should see how good their aim is with that bow and arrow set they made… but I guess you already have,” said Eirynn. As the Leader gazed in the direction of the voice, a shadowy figure, backlit from the light stepped forth, carrying a sword half again her height as effortlessly as a seasoned knight. “You’ve slain the only father I’ve ever known… and for that, you will die.” The blade flashed as Eirynn cut down the leader’s remaining compatriot, singing through the air as if wielded by a true master.

“Bugger this! I’m out of ‘ere!” screamed the man, turning to leave as quickly as he could.

“You cannot run from the hand of Justice!” Eirynn returned, following him, greatsword in hand. As the two broke out into the courtyard, the man tripped on the cobble stones, skidding along the walk for several feet before coming to a stop. He turned on his back, hands up to defend himself, looking in bewilderment at the child-warrior who would surely be his end. Eirynn stood, the massive blade raised above her head, her red hair the very image of burning fire as lit by the sunset. “Surely,” he thought… “surely this is Myrmidia herself, sent to punish me!” He closed his eyes as she swung the sword at him, knowing they would never open again.

“Stop!” a voice cried out behind him, “You must stop!” Two men, Knights of the Blazing Sun, ran up, sword and shield in hand, positioning themselves between Eirynn and the thug.

“But why?” Eirynn asked. “Why spare this man? This is Justice! HE KILLED MY FATHER!” Tears of anger streamed down her face, her chest heaving as she struggled to control the rage inside her. “This man… deserves… to die.”

“Aye, that he does,” replied one of the Knights, “but not on this day, and not by your hand. This is not Justice, but Vengence!

“He doesn’t deserve mercy!” cried Eirynn.

“No one does…” replied the Knight, “that’s what makes it Mercy. He will die for the crimes he has committed, and he will hang by the hangman’s noose before the week is out. But we must give him his trial. We must see that true Justice is done. That… is the way of Myrmidia.”

The other knight put his hand on Eirynn’s shoulder, “Come. You have taken up the arms of one the greatest masters of our order. Let us show you how to use them in a way that would honor his memory.”

* * *

That was 10 years ago. Today, Eirynn stands as a bastion against darkness and chaos; a full Knight of her order and a leader of men. She has fought in numerous engagements, and has displayed the keen tactical awareness in which all Knights of the Blazing Sun are trained. Her devotion to Myrmidia, and to the true Justice she learned that fateful day, are unquestionable. Woe be to the denizens of evil. Woe be to those who would prey upon the weak and defenseless. Woe be to those who would cross Eirynn’s path with mal intent, for she strikes true, with the strength of the goddess of war.

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