Schooldays are a Warre:. [Language, oh so much Language]

[Warre]

Morning, oh glorious morning. There was perhaps no more beautiful time to the Warreic Spirit. As young Lunima Caunster, watched the morning sun rise in the horizon, he couldn't help but feel a shiver down his spine. A ghostly touch gracing his spine like there was some sight, some sound, some smell he was missing. As if his life was entirely different and he didn't know it. As he sat cross-legged upon his bed, the future Clanntaich of Clann Caunster couldn't help but follow the urge of burrowing back into the blankets, and looking away from that beautiful lavender sunrise. As he covered his head with his pillow, he tried to ignore the fact that that sun looked totally different from what it was supposed to look. There wasn't supposed to be a faint outline of land in the horizon, but just sea. Beautiful, beautiful sea.

He tried to sleep, but it wasn't long until his mother gave a rap upon his bedroom door. Like a good boy, the Warreic teenager rolled out of bed. He gathered his school uniform, and headed out of his room to take his turn at the upstairs shower. And with a few ticks of the grandfather clock in his family's home, young An tUasa Caunster was groomed, fed, dressed, and ready for another day within the premiere academy within the Ard Riocht for young people of his station. The place where all the Clanntaich sent their children, to learn the things necessary to fulfill their station. The Royal College of Lumina was for the most part just as another school. It was the place where young Clanntaich made friends who would give them the allies within the Council of Houses. And it was important to each of the Warreic Noble Families which were known as 'Clanns' for their children to have such allies, as they'd make the Clann stronger.

With a roll stuffed with roast meat from last night's supper stuffed in his mouth, the seventeen year old strolled from his home, heading down the winding streets of the Warreic Capital, Lumina, and towards his school, twelve blocks away. His travel was silent, as most of the kids who lived in this area were children of Clanntaich as well and had bicycles or mopeds to get them to school, so would leave a lot later than him. As he nibbled upon the roll, carrying his haversack over his shoulder, the Warreic couldn't help but be hopeful for the events of the day. His scheduled classes would be very interesting, and he might even get to hang out with Ikirisa, Anna, or Damon before one of their cliques swallowed them whole again.

Plus, the roast meat and roll was delicious as a follow up for the cornflakes he had devoured after waking up. As he strolled down the winding brick roadways towards his school, he couldn't help but be hopeful. It was a good day to be Warreic, and the sun was up to not remind himself something was wrong with the horizon.

---Roinnt Am Níos Moille--
---Sometime Later---​

The ring of gunshots was heard again and again and again. Like a cascading cadence, it was heard again and again. Gunshots and the tinny ding of rounds hitting metal targets. Despite the gunshots, there was no panic amongst the Warreic. There was no newscast about a shooting, or any police forces moving in to take care of the situation. Because it was planned, controlled, and perfectly legal. As the twenty or some odd young men and women within this class of immediate riflery and gunnery continued onwards, there wasn't even a look of sweat upon the professor's faces as the children moved from one place to another.

And it was a good way to take out frustations, Lunima mused, as he lay flat on his stomach as his instructor from the Warreic Royal Marines barked out orders to his platoon. Lunima absentmindedly followed them, loading the old fashioned Springfield rifle [or rather, the Warreic Equivalent, the Lumina Gunneries “Maverick”], and calmly taking aim, he hit the hay lined metal figure again and again and again. Right between the eyes, right in the hand, right where ever the teacher ordered. It was exemplary, and while Lunima was having a perfectly good time, other students with the same task, especially in other platoons, were missing entirely. One had to be hauled off to the infirmary even, having been shot in the backside by a misfired weapon. Or at least the shooter claimed to have misfired as her angry professor glared at her.

“An tUasa Caunster! Care to explain to the smartarse lassie who thinks she can shoot others in the arse with life rounds why she can't?”

“Besides the lashings, Professor?”

“Aye, Caunster! Besides the lashings!”

“Because it's unsportsmanlike! You'd not punch someone in the arse and get away with it before you could get out of distance, but if you shoot someone like that, then they can't possibly know it's you! It's silly!”

“So, Ollamh Caunster! Sounds like you've got it! And you know what's going to happen because you got it and you're about seven thousand times her master in marksmen? Little Clanntaicha Alexander is your Cu! If you Cu bites someone else, you're responsible! If you're Cu pisses on someone else's yard, you're responsible! And if your Cu learns to be a good bitch, you're responsible! If she learns to be obedient and some new tricks, it's your responsibility! Comprehend me, Clanntaich Caunster? She's your responsibility, and you're her commanding officer! If she shoots another one, she'll get a few lashes, but you'll get about twelve fold her's!”

“Uh... yes, yes sir. Every officer candidate knows that, sir! I'll make sure she knows!”

And it was about then that the young Miss Alexander got up from her position crouching, and strode towards Lunima, fist balled up. A vicious almost canine grimace on her face as she strode forward to show him what she thought of him saying those things. Anna was his friend, after all! And she did it like a Warreic Marine mine, stealth as a snake as she trotted up to close the distance. If it wasn't for some dumb luck and having heard her angry breathing, she'd probably have hit him, too. But he rolled out of the way just in time for her fish to come centimeters from hitting him, and making a little indent in the ground where his spine would've been.

“You calling me your Cu, Caunster? You know I'm better than you at all of this! How're you going to teach me anything? How're you going to call me a hound? I ohta knock you on your pansy little ass, I should. By Morrigan, I should.” she huffed angrily as she moved to get back up, and he had already jumped to his feet. “Anna! I don't want to fight a girl! Why're you thinking to make me look like some bastard? You shouldn't have shot Damon in the backside, even if he broke up with you to go out with Ikirisa McEva!! It's ridiculous!”

The professor watched in silence, icy celtic eyes gleaming at the scene. “So Clanntaicha Alexander is the man in your relationship, Ollamh Caunster? Is that it? You going to let her talk to you like that?”

“With respect, sir. Shut your mouth about things you don't know about!” the Caunster boy roared back. Ikirisa started to walk back to her previous position and her LG Maverick, when Lunima added a bit too much. “She's not nothing in our relationship, Sir! Because we don't have one! I'd never date Anna..!!” Tackle, explosion, headbutt. With the fury of a woman who thought herself a lion, the day of Lunima Caunster of the Ard Riocht of Warre raced onwards, and any hope of more gunnery practice was ended.

 

[Warre]

The young men and young women were clustered all about, and like any modern nation's students, they didn't seem to be all too interested in the history class which they were sitting in on. As was standard for grade 3 [Or Grade 10, in most nation's equivalents] students within the Royal College of Lumina, they sat with their desks put into groups of four, their chairs unattached to the desks and with swivel motions to be able to follow the teacher, or be moved via a remote at the teacher's bequest; and as was standard with most 'western' nations, they had a text books opened as their professor walked into the class, dusting off his sweater as he did.

Most of the school's grade 3 students were assembled, even Lunima Caunster, who had a busted lip and a few stitches across his left eyebrow, and the girl who had caused that damage, (Anna Alexander) in turn having a purpling eye and a lump on her head. Luckily for them, they'd been cleared from the infirmary in time to get to class before Professer MacKeagan had to find them missing from the class and drag them in by their ears.

He was a History teacher, but also a veteran of the Rygard campaign, where he had lost a leg. Even as he walked forward through the class on his hard plastic and steel prostetic leg, which would only pass a normal leg under his slacks, the children sat at attention. Some looked exhausted from the five classes they had endured before, but everyone of them showed respect for him. He had risked his life for their beloved country, and had lost a limb against the Rygard secessionists, who had moved to secede after the Ard Riocht* had dethroned their own King for misconduct and disobeying the High King's orders. This teacher, with a mane messy brown hair, which was just now beginning to thin at his temples, he seemed like a lion to some of them, perhaps a regal and scarred old battle hound, a dog which had served it's master faithfully, if one was being poetic about the nation's own culture.

MacKeagan strolled through the class, ever so often having a cringe as his knee rubbed against the padding of the prosthetic leg the wrong way; but most of the time walking without problem. He looked from student to student, making sure their uniform was proper even this late in the day, and then gave a nod.

“I hear we have a cu** fight earlier, students. Between Alexander and Caunster, and I'm not sure which house came out more the Uroduah and who the SeanCu; and more than that I hear that the young Clanntaicha Alexander shot someone in the ass with said a Maverick during weapons training. Is that so, Miss Alexander?”

The girl glared, and proceeded to get clothes-lined out of her chair by young An tUasa*** Caunster, the boy who his rifelry's instructor had given the 'leash' of Alexander. And as the red-brown haired young girl glared at the dark haired boy, their icy celtic blues dueled a battle of glancing steel before the young Warreic man extended a hand to the girl. As he did, he spoke simply.

“She did, professor, and now she's got an attitude about it. All over Damon and Ikirisa starting a relationship, she shot him over it.”

“Right-so?”

“Aye, Professor. I'd not lie to you. She shot him because she's a jealous girl.”

Anna yanked on his hand, and tried to pull the bruised young man to the ground with her in rage at that, and he simply yanked in the opposite direction, his arm hurting from the effort, but slamming the rage filled girl's stomach into the desk-table in the process.
“You're turning into a SeanCu there, Caunster. Don't spoil your affections to the girl, as it's not like she's spoiling our culture by acting like that. In fact, it only brings me to a story which will be our course of study today.”

The heir to the Clanntaich of Caunster proceeded to sit down within his chair, ignoring the glaring visage of the Alexander Heiress as Lunima sat down across from her, and looked to his professor, who was already moving onwards.

“Her name was Aoife Mac Aodha, and she was the cousin of good old High King Padron Mac Aodha, during the time of the Crusades. When our HEireannic cousins came upon the crusades, not all of their knights or soldiers were of clean and calm of heart. And as you know, they all came with this backward notion that they were less than them. Just because of the distance, they thought o' they thought”, the man chuckled, and looked at the young lady, Ikirisa, who's name had been a mutation of some Talemantine name the best anyone could tell. That dark browned haired young lass who looked mekely up at him with her green eyes, speaking softly, and unbecomingly to the majority of people from Warreic culture. “They thought that a lass like her would be better in their hands, and worse in the hands of one of the 'Warreic Heathens', Professor?”

The professor could only clap his hands together, “Right-so, that they did.” He nodded simply towards the class as if confirming the commonality of that attitude within the 10th century, and he went onwards with the story.

“The HEireannic Knights had spent much blood and much gold to free the minor Riocht, and they stayed for a while, despite our varied culture. They stayed up until the time that they tried to enforce their Dominician Religion upon our ancestors. They declared the High King would either have to convert to their religion and forsake our gods or they would replace him. They did more than this, taking the lovely crimson haired girl Aoife, from her family's castletown. They took her from Lumina as her betrothed, the High King's son; was off laying siege to those who occupied the holy city of Tarah, and while they overwhelmed the Ard Ri's army, their leader, a would be king by the name of Sir Artúr Mac Hugh attempted to marry her. Because he had a distant claim to the throne itself, being a distant cousin of Padron and his son Aodhán, he sought to usurp the throne and use Aoife as a trophy to cement the walls of his claim. As Aoife stood there, seeing her cousin Padron die at the hands of the Crusaders, she seethed with rage, and took steps as if Mórrígan herself was guiding Aoife's hands. Please turn to page seventy and three to see more, before I speak. Included upon that page and the one which follows, are an approximate map of Warre at the time, and a later artist's portrait of the young Rigann herself.”

The main quickly turned his visage, watching the teenagers turn the pages, and then gave a nod when they all had. “She proceeded to escape out into the bay, and praying that Mannan Mac Lir guide her hands, she sent a falcon towards Tarah, the falcon specifically a messenger osprey who Aodhán favored, and then she returned to the coast to prepare. For as the proverb goes, the gods favor those who take action, and who do not wait for others to save them. With the message sent her betrothed that his father had died and he was the High King now, that Artúr had moved on from simple execution to try to take the throne for himself.”

“She went but a single time more to Lumina within the time of the False Ri Artúr; and she went to tell him to take himself as far as he could, because no protection for kin would be given to him. That he was no King of Fire Sons or Day followers, and that he should flee the true King's wrath. Of course, he had her jailed, but not immediately executed for one of those crazy Dominician crimes, like being a witch or something. He couldn't, and he knew it. But she wasn't a wee and meek Dominician lass, either. She was a woman of fire and passion, and when they jailed her she quickly tricked herself out of the jailing, offering her wiles to a guard and promptly slaying him with his own dirk. She escaped with a bit more spilling of blood, and then she went out to all of the clanns who had sworn allegiance to the Mac Aodha. And she had them give more than arms, their young sons and their old grandfathers, any able man who she could get. Women flocked despite her lack of requesting it, and they soon moved. Using Guerilla tactics and disrupting supplies from the sea or otherwise, this group continued to lay siege on Carricklas in this way, her people's army all marked in woad and taking operations at night to scare the crusaders all the more. To remind them of stories their mothers and their Dominician religion had sworn off from existing as right-so; and of monsters they remembered but the centuries had made them forget.”

Time ticked on, and the bell rang, but the class didn't shuffle to get up, despite the school day being over, the class did not move, looking respectfully at the teacher.

“This assault on the outlanders weakened them, and by the time the half of Aodhan's army had turned to come deal with their upstart visitors, the battle was almost won. Throughout this time, Aoife lead the battle, until her cousin Aodhan arrived, and assaulted the Rock of Light itself, entering the lower tunnels and taking it within the night. While the most of Artur's personal guard were slain, others were left alone, reminded of what would happen if they disrespected the 'pagans', by Aodhan having the heads of these ungrateful visitors's removed, tarred, and place upon spears and hung over the battlements. Class dismissed, read through that chapter for more information.”

[[OOC & Notes; *High Kingdom, in this case 'Government of the High Kingdom', as Ard Riocht can be used in either way in Warre.
**Dog, Hound, also within reference to slang of the Warreic within modern day 'Grunt', 'Soldier' or 'Loyalist'. Specifically if paired to 'Aodh' or 'Aodha', the implication is 'Hound of The High King' and is not an insult more than a playful one. This definition in older Warreic tradition was both Warrior and Greenhorn, often with 'Coileán'(Pup) differentiating from 'Cu' or 'SeanCu' (Old Hound/Old Dog) .

Calling someone wolf (Mac Tíre or Faolchú), or mongrel (Bodmhadra ); on the other hand, is likely to get the speaker into a fight, depending on their station.

*** 'Mister' ]]