Log:Swearing In Czcibor

Swearing In Czcibor
"Captain Kowal."
Participants Ashe, Czcibor	2017.10.20 Czcibor pledges to Fate's Harvest.
Location The Wayhouse
It's starting to feel a bit more like Autumn in Vermont for once. Friday night at the Wayhouse means that Ashe is in attendance and there's the smell of something delicious in the air. Yes, the Monarch cooks. "Maxwell. Can you check that for me?" she asks one of the Waykeepers as she takes her seat near the door to the kitchen. She's dressed in jeans, deep red sweater and brown riding boots. The crown on her head has blackened antlers that look like they could poke an eye out. She looks to be in deep thought for a moment while people mill about. The door opens, admitting a rose garden in late June-- its scent is laced through with the ozone of a thunderstorm passed and the bonfires of spring nights to banish the winter and welcome the summer. But no: it's not the garden, warring with Ashe's mantle, it's the man in the middle of it that actually turned the knob and stepped in. (Obviously.) He's tall and has a pleasant expression, but something about him commands attention, and something about him shrieks of Faerie's twisting power. "Hello?" he calls cheerfully, his accent not so much thick as pronounced: something like RP British, something like Polish. "Your Majesty," he adds when he sees Ashe, and gives the reigning season's monarch a respectful bow. "Am I interrupting? I was told to come here; I wish to join your freehold for at least a Season, and I precede my oathmate on the road." Uvall drops down from the ceiling and clings to one of those antlers that stick up from Ashe's crown. The stitched smile in the Monarch's face twitches when the door opens up and there's the smell of roses flows in and there's a bit of a smile. When she sees Czcibor there's a nod of her head and she stands to greet him, "No interruption at all. I'm Ashe Whelan. Autumn Monarch of Fate's Harvest." she offers in greeting. "And you are?" she asks with a smile. "Captain Czcibor Kowal der Landeswehr," the man answers, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it up on the rack by the door after it's closed, then stepping up to offer his hand. "You can take your pick of names from there, I know it's a mouthful. Captain or Kowal is what I'm most used to hearing. I'm a healer and a tactician, originally from Entzweite Erinnerungen, then Eisenbastion, in Vienna. I offer my services; everything I've heard of your Freehold is most reassuring." The quick grin at the end: bright silver teeth in his oxidized face, bright silver featureless eyes, but for all that his expression is still eminently readable, open and personable. " "Captain Czcibor Kowal der Landeswehr," the man answers, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it up on the rack by the door after it's closed, then stepping up to offer his hand. "You can take your pick of names from there, I know it's a mouthful. Captain or Kowal is what I'm most used to hearing. I'm a healer and a tactician, originally from Entzweite Erinnerungen, then Eisenbastion, in Vienna. I offer my services; everything I've heard of your Freehold is most reassuring." The quick grin at the end: bright silver teeth in his oxidized face, bright silver featureless eyes, but for all that his expression is still eminently readable, open and personable. "Granted, you may not need another soldier or another healer, but anything in my power--" Ashe listens to him, letting him get his introduction and things out, "It is nice to meet you, Captain Landeswehr." she tells him with that smile as she reaches out to shake his hand in greeting. "And a healer, Isolde will be so happy to hear of that." she tells him. "Have you been read the laws of the Freehold? If so that will make things easier for swearing in." she tells him. Then there's a curious look to him, "Whatever Freehold or group says they don't need another something is a fool. There's never enough. People need breaks and time off. Sleep is a thing." she muses. The Spring elemental laughs. "Captain Kowal," he corrects, eyes bright with mirth; his handshake's warm, though his flesh is ungiving. "Die Landeswehr is my motley. It is likewise nice to meet you, Ashe Whelan." He lets his hand drop, then puts them both in his pockets and nods firmly. "Yes, ma'am, I've read them. And I do agree that there's never enough-- but I'm not about to criticize a freehold I'm only passing through, which I most certainly am if they hold an opinion like that." He's either had a lot of practice with social niceties, or he's pledged and contracted well enough to pretend to be more human, even with all of that... that rolling off of him. "So I would take your oath, Majesty. Your laws are even better than your reputation." "Oops. Apologies on that, Captain Kowal. That's going to be interesting with Captain Whelan running around here and stuff. But it's alright." Ashe tells him. "My motley is the Graveyard Shift. It's just me and my husband." she nods to that. Then there's a smile, "My reputation is probably that I've got a Freehold full of layabouts, but, we'll get to that another time." she muses to him with a smile. "If you will repeat after me." she tells him. I pledge my time, my talents and my fealty to Fate's Harvest. I swear that I no longer serve the Fae, nor will I while this promise stands; that while I am under its protection I will obey the principles and bylaws of the Fate's Harvest Freehold as ratified by Monarch and Council, in return for the support and safety they provide. May I perish in exile, should I be forsworn. The tin man's expression's merely amused for a moment -- apparently he's used to the idea of 'captain' not being all that rare a rank -- and the faint smile stays in place, upturning a little more thoroughly at the mock-complaint of 'layabouts'. There's only the briefest shake of his head with it, crinkle-eyed, before the monarch gets down to business. She didn't ask him to, but Czcibor lifts his right hand anyway; he's more certain of that than he is of having a heart anymore. "I pledge my time, my talents, and my fealty to Fate's Harvest," he repeats gravely, the resonant ring of his voice holding weight of its own, in addition to the weight of the oath he speaks. "I swear that I no longer serve the Fae, nor will I while this promise stands; that while I am under its protection I will obey the principles and bylaws of the Fate's Harvest Freehold as ratified by Monarch and Council, in return for the support and safety they provide. May I perish in exile, should I be forsworn." Ashe gives him a smile as he repeats the Oath and she reaches into her pocket and there's a bit of a look to him and she holds out a little pin to him, two Autumn leaves with three little stones that run down the stems. "It's a fealty pin. Just a little token of my gratitude to everyone that pledges to the Freehold during Autumn. A bit of thanks." she tells him with a smile. Then she gives a look to him, "Do you and your motley mate have a place to stay and things of that nature?" she asks him. Taking the pin solemnly, Czcibor affixes it to his shirt collar for now-- he'll likely transfer it to his coat's lapel later, but for now, on the black shirt it goes. "Thank you," he says, and there's the taste of defiance to the phrase, clearly not directed at the Queen. Maybe he's not accustomed to saying it. Maybe it's something he's taken back -- or maybe it's only all right because he's sworn fealty, and is otherwise something uncomfortable. But... The pin itself, he clearly wears proudly. And he glances up again and gives a little smile. "I was planning on finding a motel or something until we find someplace more permanent, but if you've recommendations, I'd be very grateful--" The rest of the conversation's as businesslike, though friendly, as that: it does transpire that he's been substituting a Gift of Warm Breath for sleep for slightly too long, so the rest of the conversation isn't that long, either.