Almeric stood stoically, on the prow of the longship, next to the Jarl. Time seemed to stand still, as if commanded by the Draugr's raised hand. His worse fears were being realised, the Retinue seemed crippled with mistrust, indecision and division. Perhaps this was how his command ended, with a whimper, on the desolate Thulish coast? At least Almeric would not have to walk home, with the Draugr at his command he could travel anywhere. A wry smile crossed his face, hiding his true turmoil and sadness.
Almeric turned to assess the ship and crew a little further. He considered what provisions and equipment he might need, to make travelling on this ship survivable? A tarp maybe, and some rope, to create some cover with blankets and a bedroll? He imaged the speed the ship might reach, 20 knots? He knew he could control the ship once in a day, which meant a range of maybe 400 miles, at 20 knots for 20 hours? How uncomfortable would it be to spend 20 hours on this ship! He shuddered with the thought. Perhaps this was much better suited to close assault, or fast egress from difficult situations?
He thought about the possible situations which could be used to end the curse? A full assault, where the Draugr were all killed, or destroyed their target. Where could he possibly stage such an attack and who is deserving of such a fate? BEORN. The lickspittle was still cowering in Baron Grisaile's castle in West Albion. He deserved such a fate, the death of a traitor! Grisaille's castle is in Wincaster, nowhere near the sea. It is by the Coronach March though. Could a shallow bottomed longship navigate the march? It must be 100 miles to the sea???
Perception = 16 (Ships compliment and Shelter for the living?)
A large black-backed gull winged overhead and landed on top of the mast surveilling the tableau below with interest, as if intrigued by the tension and strained connections. After a few moments the bird took off again winging its way out to see with a high cat-;like call.
The waves rolled over the pebbles lending more squeaks and shifts to the soudscape......and yet to many of the companions it was if all sound had been banished and life hung on a hairsbredth....
Cainneach shakes his head wearily and lowers his bow. Replying to Ori, "I'll kill all of them again, as many times as is necessary, if you and I are right and the foul things on that ship turn against us. Wouldn't be the first time we bail this group out, and most certainly won't be the last. I trust you, man. Let's haul this cursed stuff aboard and join the rest of these loons. You watch my back and I'll watch yours." He then turns to Famh and Thatch and says, "I hope to any god that will listen that your faith in this vessel is not misplaced, but I guess this isn't yet the time for us to part." He glances at Famh, a questioning look in his eyes, unsure of the words that would formulate a sufficient response to her entreaties, but unable to fully make eye contact. Finally and before lifting the litter with Ori, Cainneach very deliberately addresses Salt. "Listen old boy, I know this is not going to be to your liking, but we have to go look after our friends. Just stay with me and everything will be okay, you understand?" The hound whimpers, but nestles up close to Cainneach and seems inclined to follow as they proceed toward the dead longship.
Ori's shoulders teach back up as the reality sinks in what he's agreeing too. He turns to Cainneach, "Best we keep our eyes open and wits about us, for we will have other to watch out for. Worry about the rest when mutany begins." As he bends down to gather his handhold on the litter he whispers to Cainneach:
Watch out for the other, I'll be going for the head of the serpent, whoever that turns out to be...
Walking towards the boat, Ori makes it clear that he will steer clear of the undead crew and refuse any assistance offer by them boarding or bring aboard his cargo. He trys to find as secure and guardable spot to store the staffs/litter.
(for two reasons. well, two besides the stated one that Famh really IS growing up in unexpected ways. The first of the others, is the upcoming of Saint Valentinius's Day IRL, so we ought to give our two dear Thules the chance to celebrate their first together as a fully realized couple; and the second, that this scene on the beach hasn't been nearly dramatic ENOUGH yet and Famh wants to do her part by throwing in the proverbial kitchen sink ;-D ... a little unpolished perhaps, since she'd imagined having a bit more time to work on it before she told him, but, as she reflects, ...)
<3 @@@&&&@@@ <3
Famh's mind is in a whirl as her sudden unexpected growth spurt sends waves washing out through her heart and soul to transform an ever increasing number of the facets of her life ... including the one which has been chiefest on her mind ever since she met Cainneach in Igham. Their disagreement on the beach feels more like the knotty, sometimes thorny day-to-day wranglings of Couples she remembers from her far-off girlhood than it resembles the mistily vague 'wooings and cross-purposes' of the old sagas . And she remembers that at the end of the day those couples still loved each other and made peace ... or not, sometimes the muffled shouting went on half the night and you pretended you weren't lying awake trying not to listen ... to emerge as a whole couple again next morn. In short, this simple difference of opinion has reminded her that she's wooing Cainneach in the real world of here and now, that there never WILL be a perfect time to tell him she loves him in good plain Elleslandic, and if she waits any longer it might be grave gaunts next time instead of just draugr!
She takes Cainneach by the arm and draws him away from the others as they walk towards the longship. . Not too far, though. She feels that she will either want witnesses to her triumph and supreme bliss; or else it will require more than one person to pump her out of the earth into which she's sunk in an absolute puddle of heartbroken embarrassment. She is, after all, still Famh; and her maturity is a faerie maturity, tinged with rose and amethyst. And as she draws him aside she finds her butterfly mind flickering over all their time together.
In that time she's slowly come to realize that while she was certainly a talker, her 'neach leannan was ... not quite as much. Although she'd not had much of a chance in her girlhood, she'd since found in words, and in the sheer intricacies of so seemingly simple a thing as talking with folk, a source of endless wonder and delight; of art and yes, sometimes of power too. While Cainneach was more a noble stag from his own shadow-dappled greenwoods, who when he did not bell went slipping through those green shadows silent and beautiful. When he'd explained his concerns about the longship to her so eloquently, she thinks, it might have been the most fully she remembers hearing him speak since she'd known him. But being such a tonguesmith herself now, she'd only slowly come to understand how deeply and tenderly he communicated without words. It had taken the trip through this hideous ruin for her to understand that when he draped his arm comfortingly around her shoulders … like that time when she was so distraught remembering the days she was hungry enough she might have eaten that demon serpent she fried just after Fergus threw it up; .. that that gesture from him was an endearment fully as vast in magnitude as her blurting out an unequivocal leannan instead of continuing to call him a ghraid.
* (That reminds her: ...she did wonder at the time why he said it, 'mo ghraid'. She'd never known any of the folk of the western Pagans, bar him ... it might be naught but a slight difference of speech from her clan's abd the others on the Mergeld side of those mountains … Where was she again?.) *
,,, Yes, she'd rather he told her the truth, how he really feels without worrying about hurtin - ... she would, she really ... she was only teasing about that puddle part, she ... suddenly realizes she'd drawn him aside and then walked along in complete silence gazing at him at him long enough for a rather puzzled look to cross his face. She is hardly in any fit state to appreciate the irony, Instaed, she takes the longest, deepest breath of her life and then begins.
"'neach. You know we've been good friends since I met you in Igham. But we can't go on so anymore now, not until we talk at least. Cainneach; ... I ..., " the universe stops along with her heart a split century or so, she pauses hanging on its verge forever during the span of three brief seconds, and then it rushes out, "I LOVE you, 'neach leannan ghraid! With all my heart and soul I love you!!! Nothing we saw there," she dismisses Karvala's sordid hovel, the Mergeld Puddle, and a large part of southern Thuland and northern Albion to boot, with a single flip of her hand, "was so terrible to me as the fear I'd lose you, that's we'd be parted before I had the chance to tell you that. And I know you wanted to keep me safe; and I think you speak without words more than I, and I hope you ... Oh, but I wouldn't want to cage you either. Even in a cage of love. I was but teasin' ye just now, I know ye're at the least a good friend still, and if ye feel no more than that please do tell me true.”
“But Cainneach,' and now her eyes do take on a teasing sparkle that even a noble stag of the greenwoods could not mistake, even as her speech shades more towards the intimacy of the cradle dialect that in either case they both share, "if ye do think ye could love me, ye'd best make quite sure, leannan. I've always been an honest girl; and I'm afraid I can only give ye the traditional year and a day to court me ere I'll be speaking to Sir Almeric and the Baron about arranging for a little ceremony for ye to make an honest woman of me!" She winks at him. "But after, or if ye truly are but a still dear friend then, I meant what I said earlier today. If it wasn't yesterday already, who knows how many hours we've lost inside that ... but anyhow. Either way... as friend or as leannan ... I'd love to travel with you, Cainneach, anywhere. And let’s learn to fight together to keep each other safe, instead of you rushing off the cliff to catch me from falling into the chasm I’ve toppled into to catch you."
Ori's shoulders teach back up as the reality sinks in what he's agreeing too. He turns to Cainneach, "Best we keep our eyes open and wits about us, for we will have other to watch out for. Worry about the rest when mutany begins." As he bends down to gather his handhold on the litter he whispers to Cainneach:
Watch out for the other, I'll be going for the head of the serpent, whoever that turns out to be...
Walking towards the boat, Ori makes it clear that he will steer clear of the undead crew and refuse any assistance offer by them boarding or bring aboard his cargo. He trys to find as secure and guardable spot to store the staffs/litter.
Cainneach nods twice and grunts his agreement with Ori's assessment of what they'll be facing after stepping on the ghost ship. While the thought of Ori rearing back to tear into the undead captain with his great spiked club holds a certain morbid appeal, Cainneach hopes things won't come to that. But, better to prepare for the worst, as the saying goes, so he imagines himself right alongside, arrows firing rapidly at crewmen everywhere. Enjoying this little daydream, Cainneach bends over, picks up the litter, and starts to carry it to shore with the barbarian and, of course, Salt, padding along warily at their side.
(I'll skip quoting @OisinmacCameron's post to save the space ;-)
Already on edge and with his gaze firmly fixed on their rickety conveyance, Cainneach scarcely notices the Thulish girl striding alongside him until she slips her arm in his. He nearly drops the litter in surprise and gives her a puzzled look. It becomes even more perplexed as the forester attempts to discern the meaning of the look on her face, dreamy and somehow both earnestly present and far away at the same time. There is also a slight tug, as though Famh, subconsciously or not, wants something from him. Why now? He needs to be alert, focused on the danger in front of them, not with his attention divided by the admittedly lovely girl. Salt seems equally confused as to why she had taken up the space at his side where he, the faithful and currently quite afraid hound, needed to be. The dog's large head keeps awkwardly squeezing in between the two, then falling back as he equally awkwardly bumps into their legs.
Thankfully, this is quite a long walk and finally Cainneach signals to Thatch, inquiring if the young man might relieve him of his litter duty for the moment so he might find out what Famh is up to. After handing off the litter to Thatch and directing Salt to stay with he and Ori, Cainneach allows himself to be pulled a little away from the group by Famh. While still quite naive around women, he can tell she is fairly bursting with some sort of account, so Cainneach keeps his mouth shut and allows her to speak, which is his preference anyway.
(One outpouring of emotion later ...)
The poor young forester's face flushes red, cheeks burning as he quickly glances about looking for reactions from anyone he believes to be in earshot. There is no chance he would notice any threat emerging on their dread vessel now, even if it started hurling meteors upon the shoreline. Currently speechless, Cainneach tries to process everything slamming through his mind, plummeting to his heart, pinging around there like shrapnel, then flinging back up again into his addled brain. The train of thought runs roughly upon these tracks: "Of course this is what I want, I love her too, but why now, Famh, in front of almost everyone I know in this world? Why now in this horrible place where we've yet again almost died, you've nearly been stuck as a giant elk, and where we're striding heroically toward a ship of dead Mercanians, cursed by even worse Magi of Krarth, whoever they were? I love this girl, but by the gods, she's a mess! Although I guess if she wanted to tell me before we all die on this ship of fools, this really is the only chance ..."Cainneach's internal dialogue is analogous to Famh's voiced ramblings, and at least as awkward, for he eventually realizes that she is staring at him quite intently, and probably becoming quite uncomfortable at his continued silence, if he had to make a guess. Cainneach takes her arm more firmly and leads her a bit farther away from the group, saying quietly as they proceed, "Uhh, Famh, I uh, I wasn't really expecting this here and now, and in front of everyone. I don't know much of love truly, I grew up in the wilderness alone and then with Dru, when most fellows would have been exchanging secret glances with fair maidens and all that. But I think, nae, I know that I love you, too, leannan. And when this nasty bit of business with the Barons is all done, I hope I have the chance to properly court you, and I can be chivalrous, and you can be demure, and it will be like all those stories I groaned at when I was a wee lad, but wonderful now! But I am worried, not about the ceremony and concerns of the True Faith, I'm thinking more about your ... extended family. When I mentioned a while back about finding the Aos Si ... I'm not sure they'll find me worthy of your hand, but I think we need to know, else they'll make terrible mischief for us. But look, that's all off in the future, right now we need to survive this wretched ship and whatever else lies in wait to snare us all in misery. No rushing off cliffs, no falling into chasms, leannan, we keep each other safe by learning to fight together, as you say." He raises her hand in his and gives it a gentle kiss, before smiling at her and then leading the way back toward their party's optimistic procession to Almeric's ship of the damned.
Famh sighs happily. "Of course, Cainneach. I did lose my head a bit there, and you're right, that's in the future." Falling back into her accustomed place beside him, she joins him in boarding the ship.
As the longship pushes off from shore, Famh looks over the side and sighs. "Poor Tusk. He must have swum in right over these horrid draugr and their ship when he came here." Then a new thought arrests her a moment. "But wait... If I found it so scary at first when Tusk charged me and I didn't know who he was, what must it have been for these poor draugr to have that great vast shape swimming over them blocking out the sun, and they NEVER finding out it was but a poor lost seal-lyon?"
Of course, little can distract her from her happiness right now, and the mention of Tusk is quite enough to redirect her attention back to her newfound love. She quickly finds the place they will be sitting for the brief voyage back to the Linden and settles in next to Cainneach with her arm draped tenderly around his shoulders. Then she glances at him with a curiously shy smile. It suddenly seems to her as if, deeply familiar and beloved as he is now, she is meeting him for the very first time. She realizes how little she truly knows about his life before they met. In many cases she's learned just enough that she doesn't want to make his pain worse reopening old wounds. But she hopes the majestic veteran of the sea that they had helped rescue together would be far enough from the slings and arrows of a past that had treated him with such outrageous fortune.
"You're a forester, leannan, and you're so wise about all the creatures the Holy Ones have made. Did ye ever have aught to do with a seal-lyon before? ... " She pauses.
" ... Though I don't suppose they would have been all that common in Fenring Forest. And I'm terribly curious about your life in that place too. I only saw the outskirts on my last wanderings south. After I left the coast, it was mostly safest to travel between the first trees and the southern foothills of the Pagans until those turned into The Shriven Hills and led me out just north of Igham. That;s when the Widow Mavis met me and had the kindness to take me in, on the road near that ruined fort just north of the village. I think she was coming back on her palfrey from some business in Norham, and it was just at the fall of twilight when she rode by and saw me just about to light my fire for the night among the first fallen stones of the ruin. And she looked over and said to me, 'Oh, child, that's a terrible place to spend the night! It's hard and cold and the bears will eat you up ere morning. You'd best come with me, poor lost lamb, and you can help tend my sheep so you needn't feel ashamed to accept.' I didn't understand then what she meant about bears, but of course that's 'Beorn' in the Old Speech; so I wonder if she had some inkling about the traitor even then and was trying to warn me about his roving band of thugs. Anyhow, I was more than happy to accept her kind offer and sleep within doors, so they never found me. But I never did get to see all the beauties of the forest you found such a refuge, either. What was it like?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Almeric breathed a sigh of relief as everyone eventually boarded the Draugr ship, treasure and all. Finally they were ready to leave and after what had seemed live an eternity, Almeric nodded to the Jarl, who's hand drops...
"This should be a short journey. It took us a few hours to walk here, cross country and I expected to return at a much faster speed. Let's see how fast these fellows can row! Cainneach, Thatch, we will need signal arrows, if you please, ready to loose as soon as we are in range of the Linden. One before we land and one after. We will land 150' up the beach from the Linden, so as not to alarm and allow them to acknowledge us. Famh, please guard the treasure and keep the wands safe and untouched until we can give them to Myrddin. I'm sure hi wisdom will be invaluable. "
Signal arrows were blunted and lighter than normal shafts, allowing them to travel further, without doing any actual damage. The shafts are painted in the colours of the lord, Baron Aldred in this case, to identify you others who are friendly and not aware of your presence. Every archer carried 1 signal arrow in their quiver, as a standing order. This tried and tested method of communication was in common use in armies of the Western Lands, and Aldred would be well versed in it. This should reduce the chance of any unfortunate misunderstands, notwithstanding the nature of there arrival.
"We have a lot to discuss when we are safe home and will have a full debriefing at that time. Until then, please reflect on your thoughts and feelings privately. I would be grateful if we can present a united front for the benefit and reassurance of the Baron, at least until we have all had time to think, reflect, discuss and reach a consensus on our experiences."
Almeric allows himself a moment to drink in the experience; the sea breeze blowing away the smell of death, the salty spray in his face smarting his eyes, the long dead Draugr rowing him home. Victories needed to be celebrated. The harder fought, the better the celebration! He looked at the Draugr again, with his tactical brain and considered ways to release them from their curse.
If the Draugr can be 'freed' by attacking a target in which they, or the target are all destroyed, this presented an unique opportunity to Almeric. To strike a devastating blow at an enemy, or meet justice to a vile criminal? If he chose the right target, at the right time, this could bring tremendous glory, prestige and renown to him AND the Retinue. Bards would write poems about it and songs would be sung. This was a crew of hardened warriors, Mercanian raiders, led by their Jarl. About 30 Draugr, in their lean and fast longship, ideal for naval assault, coastal attack, or even a river raid far inland? More thought was needed.
Seeing Cainneach and Fahm walk off from the group a bit after transferring the litter duties with Thatch, Ori taps Thatch and nods to the pair. "Poor fella is probably getting an earful for not choosing the same path as her right away back there. She seems a bit sparatic so probably letting him down pretty hard right now, best keep an eye on him after being let down like that. We still need them both at thier best." Though probably lose enough to actually hear the conversation, Ori is certain he knows how that's going down, he's been there before, but mostly his attention is still elsewhere watching out of the corner of his eyes and listening to the undead crew and Almeric. But he still tries to act like his attention isn't on them so fully by half heartedly mingling with the others. Ori will pay close attention to Almeric and his interactions with this captain while they sail.
Famh is slowly becoming reconciled to the presence of the silent draugr. As fellow children of misfortune, indeed, she is even beginning to feel a little bit of pity for them in her heart. They might belong to the people who had been harrying her coastal home since time immemorial, but they yet had died trying to free her coast from Karvala's evil. And she has ample time to get used to their nearness while she is securing the cursed part of the treasure under her bench as the knight commanded.
In no way does this replace her interest in Cainneach, and she listens with all her ears to whatever he may wish to share about his days in Fenring; she feels sorry about ignoring Salt's fear, too, and stretches out a conciliatory hand whenever he whimpers. But as her forester finishes speaking and a silence falls, she finds herself watching the subtle interplay between Sir Almericand the Mercanians' Jarl with interest. The two men, the living and the dead, spoke no words that she could hear; but the beat of the Capellar's drum seemed to convey to Jarl Hagr exactly what the Albish knight wished. She couldn't tell how or to what degree Sir Almeric was in turn understanding what the spirit wished to tell him; and since the knight hadn't seen fit to enlighten her on the subject she does not even think to ask. The experience of being trusted by all -- including Sir Almeric, whom she had sworn to serve as a freewoman of his household -- has begun to change Famh in ways she has barely yet begun to understand. The old Famh might simply have resented her curiosity being baffled. Now, having had a taste of the burden as well as the power of command, she begins to sense that there might be times when Sir Almeric sharing all he knows could actually imperil the retinue's success ... or even their lives! And seeing the eternally frozen look of loss and failure in the dead Mercanians' eyes, she begins to sense that there are some things she might prefer not to know.
That thought brings her around full circle to her newfound compassion for them. She feels almost mean as she snuggles into Cainneach's living warmth and watches men toil for them who will never feel the embrace of a loved one again until their spirits are released to seek whatever Heaven could possibly compensate for the Hell they had been through at Karvala's hands. As many times before when Famh has been in perplexity, the voice of Brither Cadfael whispers from the secret corners of her past and reminds her of a little service she can do the Mercanians to thank them for their aid. She waits until Sir Almeric is at leisure and then, whispering to Cainneach,"I've just thought of something I want to tell our knight.,"makes her way over to him as best she can in the narrow longship without encumbering the draugr crew in their labors.
"It's most admirable you mean to work towards releasing these poor men as soon as they've brought us where we need to go, Sir. And I've remembered a prayer of blessing and an invocation of peace that might help them rest a little easier. Brither Cadfael taught it me, long ago, as a night prayer for the road to soothe away any troubles the day may have brought and call Gatanades'peace upon my rest. I think these Mercanians could use a bit of that peace after their long torments at Karvala's hands. I'll ask Fergus to write down a copy, since I've not learned my letters yet, but here's how the prayer went."
"Deep peace I breathe into you, O weariness, here: O ache, here!
Deep peace, a soft white dove to you; deep peace, a quiet rain to you; deep peace, an ebbing wave to you;
deep peace, red wind of the east from you; deep peace, grey wind of the west to you; deep peace, dark wind of the north from you; deep peace, blue wind of the south to you!
Deep peace, pure red of the flame to you; deep peace, pure white of the moon to you; deep peace, pure green of the grass to you; deep peace, pure brown of the earth to you; deep peace, pure grey of the dew to you, deep peace, pure blue of the sky to you!
Deep peace of the running wave to you, deep peace of the quiet air to you, deep peace of the sleeping stones to you!
Deep peace of the Yellow Shepherd to you, deep peace of the Wandering Shepherdess to you, deep peace of the Flock of Stars to you, deep peace from the Son of Peace to you; deep peace from the Heart of Mari to you, and Briget of the Mantle deep peace, deep peace!
And with the kindness too of the Haughty Father Peace! In the name of the Three who are One Peace! And by the will of the King of the Elements Peace! Peace! Peace! Let us say
Amen."
Her prayer finished, she returns to Cainneach's side and settles with a clearer conscience back into the arms which from now till evermore will enclose her heart within their deep, strong peace.
"You're a forester, leannan, and you're so wise about all the creatures the Holy Ones have made. Did ye ever have aught to do with a seal-lyon before? ... " She pauses.
" ... Though I don't suppose they would have been all that common in Fenring Forest. And I'm terribly curious about your life in that place too. I only saw the outskirts on my last wanderings south. After I left the coast, it was mostly safest to travel between the first trees and the southern foothills of the Pagans until those turned into The Shriven Hills and led me out just north of Igham. That;s when the Widow Mavis met me and had the kindness to take me in, on the road near that ruined fort just north of the village. I think she was coming back on her palfrey from some business in Norham, and it was just at the fall of twilight when she rode by and saw me just about to light my fire for the night among the first fallen stones of the ruin. And she looked over and said to me, 'Oh, child, that's a terrible place to spend the night! It's hard and cold and the bears will eat you up ere morning. You'd best come with me, poor lost lamb, and you can help tend my sheep so you needn't feel ashamed to accept.' I didn't understand then what she meant about bears, but of course that's 'Beorn' in the Old Speech; so I wonder if she had some inkling about the traitor even then and was trying to warn me about his roving band of thugs. Anyhow, I was more than happy to accept her kind offer and sleep within doors, so they never found me. But I never did get to see all the beauties of the forest you found such a refuge, either. What was it like?"
It probably should have been a relief to Cainneach to know that his affection for Famh was mutual, although upon reflection the young forester realized he probably had taken it for granted that it was so. Rather, their current circumstances of travel and his agreement with Ori had left Cainneach on edge as he perched upon the bench on the deck, his beloved's arm laid upon him. His mind was divided between dutifully keeping watch over the ghastly crew, ready to take up arms, and Famh, who was apparently ready to dive into any topic that happened to enter her beautifully active mind. Trying to devote an appropriate amount of energy to carry the conversation, he responds, "I don't think I've ever seen a seal-lyon before, although I do recall an occasion where I saw some creatures that seemed like smaller versions. It was from quite a distance, so difficult to say. I'll certainly never forget this massive beast, though! Incredible animal, truly majestic, but definitely would not be at home in Fenring Forest. What can I tell you about that place? Oh, let's see ... I was twelve when my kin were murdered by Clan Chisholm, probably spent about a year wandering through the Pagans and into Ereworn. I didn't know what I was doing, where I was going. It was only through sheer luck, and maybe a wee bit of fey protection, that I managed to pop out south into the Shriven Hills, still intact. I was terrified to be out in the open, though. I was fairly naive in thinking that those bastards from Clan Chisholm would still be hunting me down and all I knew was that heading west, which led me into Ereworn, had done me terribly wrong, so I headed east along the foothills of the Pagans until I ended up in Fenring. Not the easiest place to get by, as there are all manner of strange men and beasts, but I felt more at home there at least. Still didn't know exactly the best way to live in lands like that, but it seemed lush compared to the hardscrabble time I'd spent off the beaten path in the Pagans. I thought I'd make my way south, as the areas near the Shriven Hills were riddled with bandits, but I ran into what I came to know from Dru as the Finster Moor. Making my way further east, I nearly ran right out of the forest and into a town, Scoruburn. It was around that time that Dru found me, lingering on the fringes of the forest, trying to decide if it was worth returning to civilization. She scared me half to death, I never saw or heard her approach. I must have looked deranged, for she interrogated me quite stiffly about my intentions, where I'd come from. When she heard of my plight and my journey, she gave me a choice: to leave the forest, and have the gods know what done to me by the 'civilized' peoples of Scoruburn, or to stay with her, free, safer, and to learn much better how to survive. Honestly, I was pretty terrified of leaving the forest after over a year on my own, and all the people I'd encountered in Fenring seemed fairly rotten, so I assumed the townsfolk were likely no better. So, I stayed with Dru ... for over five more years, learning from her, learning about the Forest, the town, the other towns to the south, the Shriven Hills, and more of navigating the southern fringes of the Pagans. We saw all manner of interesting beast, but also other sorts of ... people, and the occasional horrible creature. There were even rumours of a dragon in the west, but I never saw one."
Cainneach pauses while Almeric delivers instructions regarding the use of their signal arrows. He nods at the Capellar to acknowledge that he understands the instructions, then casts a glance at Ori and nods to him as well, showing that Cainneach is still wary of any treachery from their undead guides.
After Famh rises to speak with Almeric and deliver her blessing upon the unfortunate Mercanians, Cainneach takes the opportunity to stand and stretch his legs, scan the ship from a slightly higher vantage point for any reactions or change in mien of the Jarl or his crew, and to give Salt some reassurance as the ship of the mostly dead crashed through the waves toward the Linden. When the Thulish lass returns to his side, he embraces her and kisses her upon the head, while continuing to watch over their friends for a moment longer, until she pulls him back to the bench and nestles in his arms.
Famh presses Cainneach's hand comfortingly as he narrates the journey of his life. "Poor leannan, that does sound like a mort of trouble landed on ye through no fault of your own. No wonder ye keep yourself so watchful. And it does make good sense here: even if the draugr continue to obey Sir Almeric, there's other strange creatures in the sea; and living Mercanian raiders roam these waters yet. I can help ye by watching over the side, if you like, while you keep an eye on things closer inboard."
The ship slid back from the shore impossibly easily turning in the grey waves with the barest touch of an oar, the crew of dead ignored the living completly fixed only upon the directives of their captain and he fixed only upon the one who held the drum.
The ship slipped through the waves as if its timbers were coated in oil, paying little heed to swell, roll or crest as it rounded the point and set for the points of light denoting campfires on the shore dead ahead.
As the longship crossed the bay the companions took comfort and shelter....and watch....in their own ways, of them all Salt was probably the most miserable though none were exactly comfortable with their bloated grey fleshed oarsmen.
Signal arrows were fired by Cainneach and Thatch as the ship hauled for shore, where already they could see the crew and members of the Barons household forming a defensive line with archers behind.....the made out one of the crew picking up an arrow, though whether Thatchs or Cainneachs it was impossible to tell.....
The shields and blades did not lower and arrows remained nocked in wariness as the longship rushed in and pushed itself up and partway onshore....
Almeric is impressed at the speed, grace and manoeuvrability of the Dragon Ship, notwithstanding the dark magic that powered it through the water. The crew were completely focussed on the Jarl with the captain totally obedient to the holder of the drum. It may even be possible to travel longer distances aboard this ship, in tolerable conditions. He would need to return to Meore as soon as possible to report the location of the Blue Moon Temple. Maybe this would be a viable mode of transport?
As the ship beached, Almeric surveyed the tactical position, nodding in appreciation of the Linden's rapid response and defensive formation. Aldred was ever a cautious man and astute soldier. Certainly, this was a standard reaction to the unexpected arrival of a Mercanian Longship. The signal arrows should be re-assuring. Almeric saluted the Jarl and signalled to everyone to disembark. "I will call upon you again and will release you from your curse soon." Vaulting from the bow to land deftly below, he strode up the beach. Athletics = 18
"Unload the treasure and wait here for me. I will go alone and identify myself to Aldred. When all is secure, I'll signal you to approach."
Almeric prepared his weapons to signal to Aldred that he was approaching in peace. His shield was held upside down and his sword was held by the blade. Both of these practices were widely used during parley across the Western Lands. Even the Ta-ashim recognise these non aggressive gestures as used during the Crusades. Almeric walks with a measured pace towards the Linden, presenting a clearly visible target, projecting non aggression.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Famh grips Cainneach's hand tightly as Sir Almeric walks slowly towards the encampment they had left peacefully so many centuries before, where she can make out the tall figure of Baron Aldred at the post of command with Myrrdin by his side. "This is the kittle moment, leannan. Let's fight our best together if it comes to that, and pray even harder that it doesn't." Remembering some of what she'd learned in Karvala's tower, she finds a good sized chunk of stone and brings it over beside her, pretending she only wanted it to rest her foot on as she leans on her sgeain dubh-topped short staff to ease part of her weight off the other foot. In this deceptively peaceful posture, she watches the interaction unfolding farther down the beach. She deliberately avoids fixating on the interaction between Sir Almeric and Baron Aldred, instead using her peripheral vision to actually watch the flanks of the Linden's line for any unexpected movement.
===========================
Perception 9
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Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Thatch steps up to take the litter from Cainneach, the treasure sliding and tilting as he struggles to keep it even. He figures it must be quite the sight with the hulking figure of Ori on one side and his small frame on the other. He looks over at Cainneach and Famh as Ori taps him on the shoulder “Don’t really know much about what goes on in a women’s mind Ori, now there was the one serving maid but” Thatch’s face reddens slightly “now Master Hotspur, he had a way with the ladies. He would know, still I think Cainneach will be alright, I think they both will.”
Thatch was grateful for the distraction the need for signal arrows provided, allowing him to ready his bow and focus on other things. He stands next to Cainneach at the front of the ship and let loose, his own arrow falling a little shorter than the one fired from the ranger’s longbow, but he still hopes it is enough. He helps Ori with the litter once again as they disembark the ghost ship, glad to have solid ground under his feet again and the undead crew behind him. Once safely ashore he stands awkwardly, his bow by his side, and watches as Sir Almeric makes his way back to the baron.
Ori, still gruff about the whole situation, made worse by the fact the ship was much smoother then then Linden, watched Sir Almeric and Captain Jarl like a hawk. A few warning threats to passing by crew clearly had no sway on the crew members and Ori solely focused his attention st thosevat the top.
Hearing Almeric give the order to unload their cargo but stay behind as he goes off, Ori looks to Cainneach. "Right in the middle of this lot, close enough for them to strike the Linden and the only one that can control these vermin runs off." Seeing Thatch go for the staffs Ori helps him maneuver the litter without the staffs falling free.
(OOC - forgot to add this to my post. This is annoying, especially as it may have triggered Ori.)
ERRATA
As Almeric strode up the beach towards the Linded, his intuitive connection to Jarl Hagr via the Silver Chased Black Wood Drum, made him completely aware of the Jarls actions and commands to the crew. As soon as the Retinue were disembarked, treasure and all, the Jarl raised his hand once more to get the attention of his crew. His orders complete, they would return to the deep once more and await Almeric to fulfil his promise of releasing them from their curse. As gracefully and silently as before, the Dragon Ship slips into the water, turns effortlessly and rows out to sea. Without warning, the ship suddenly plunges into the a water, without so much as a splash!
Aware the the significant threat has gone, this should put Aldred at his ease and all should be well. The Retinue will also be pleased that the Draugr are gone too.
As Almeric got within shouting distance, he called out. "MY LORD ALDRED, TIS ALMERIC DAYNE, fear not! We have all safely returned from the scouting mission and made some 'friends' while we were there. I stand ready for inspection and to re-assure you all is well." IfAlmeric and Aldred had agreed a password, which is very plausable, Almeric gives it.
Almeric is impressed at the speed, grace and manoeuvrability of the Dragon Ship, notwithstanding the dark magic that powered it through the water. The crew were completely focussed on the Jarl with the captain totally obedient to the holder of the drum. It may even be possible to travel longer distances aboard this ship, in tolerable conditions. He would need to return to Meore as soon as possible to report the location of the Blue Moon Temple. Maybe this would be a viable mode of transport?
As the ship beached, Almeric surveyed the tactical position, nodding in appreciation of the Linden's rapid response and defensive formation. Aldred was ever a cautious man and astute soldier. Certainly, this was a standard reaction to the unexpected arrival of a Mercanian Longship. The signal arrows should be re-assuring. Almeric saluted the Jarl and signalled to everyone to disembark. "I will call upon you again and will release you from your curse soon." Vaulting from the bow to land deftly below, he strode up the beach. Athletics = 18
"Unload the treasure and wait here for me. I will go alone and identify myself to Aldred. When all is secure, I'll signal you to approach."
Almeric prepared his weapons to signal to Aldred that he was approaching in peace. His shield was held upside down and his sword was held by the blade. Both of these practices were widely used during parley across the Western Lands. Even the Ta-ashim recognise these non aggressive gestures as used during the Crusades. Almeric walks with a measured pace towards the Linden, presenting a clearly visible target, projecting non aggression.
Famh grips Cainneach's hand tightly as Sir Almeric walks slowly towards the encampment they had left peacefully so many centuries before, where she can make out the tall figure of Baron Aldred at the post of command with Myrrdin by his side. "This is the kittle moment, leannan. Let's fight our best together if it comes to that, and pray even harder that it doesn't." Remembering some of what she'd learned in Karvala's tower, she finds a good sized chunk of stone and brings it over beside her, pretending she only wanted it to rest her foot on as she leans on her sgeain dubh-topped short staff to ease part of her weight off the other foot. In this deceptively peaceful posture, she watches the interaction unfolding farther down the beach. She deliberately avoids fixating on the interaction between Sir Almeric and Baron Aldred, instead using her peripheral vision to actually watch the flanks of the Linden's line for any unexpected movement.
===========================
Perception Dice rolls not yet available for this section.
Thatch steps up to take the litter from Cainneach, the treasure sliding and tilting as he struggles to keep it even. He figures it must be quite the sight with the hulking figure of Ori on one side and his small frame on the other. He looks over at Cainneach and Famh as Ori taps him on the shoulder “Don’t really know much about what goes on in a women’s mind Ori, now there was the one serving maid but” Thatch’s face reddens slightly “now Master Hotspur, he had a way with the ladies. He would know, still I think Cainneach will be alright, I think they both will.”
Thatch was grateful for the distraction the need for signal arrows provided, allowing him to ready his bow and focus on other things. He stands next to Cainneach at the front of the ship and let loose, his own arrow falling a little shorter than the one fired from the ranger’s longbow, but he still hopes it is enough. He helps Ori with the litter once again as they disembark the ghost ship, glad to have solid ground under his feet again and the undead crew behind him. Once safely ashore he stands awkwardly, his bow by his side, and watches as Sir Almeric makes his way back to the baron.
Ori, still gruff about the whole situation, made worse by the fact the ship was much smoother then then Linden, watched Sir Almeric and Captain Jarl like a hawk. A few warning threats to passing by crew clearly had no sway on the crew members and Ori solely focused his attention st thosevat the top.
Hearing Almeric give the order to unload their cargo but stay behind as he goes off, Ori looks to Cainneach. "Right in the middle of this lot, close enough for them to strike the Linden and the only one that can control these vermin runs off." Seeing Thatch go for the staffs Ori helps him maneuver the litter without the staffs falling free.
(OOC - forgot to add this to my post. This is annoying, especially as it may have triggered Ori.)
ERRATA
As Almeric strode up the beach towards the Linded, his intuitive connection to Jarl Hagr via the Silver Chased Black Wood Drum, made him completely aware of the Jarls actions and commands to the crew. As soon as the Retinue were disembarked, treasure and all, the Jarl raised his hand once more to get the attention of his crew. His orders complete, they would return to the deep once more and await Almeric to fulfil his promise of releasing them from their curse. As gracefully and silently as before, the Dragon Ship slips into the water, turns effortlessly and rows out to sea. Without warning, the ship suddenly plunges into the a water, without so much as a splash!
Aware the the significant threat has gone, this should put Aldred at his ease and all should be well. The Retinue will also be pleased that the Draugr are gone too.
As Almeric got within shouting distance, he called out. "MY LORD ALDRED, TIS ALMERIC DAYNE, fear not! We have all safely returned from the scouting mission and made some 'friends' while we were there. I stand ready for inspection and to re-assure you all is well." IfAlmeric and Aldred had agreed a password, which is very plausable, Almeric gives it.
The companions stood together on the beach the travois of plunder between them as they watched Almeric walk towards Baron Aldred and the longship disappear beneath the waves.
Baron Aldred nodded and came forward with a somewhat bemused expression on his face as he glanced out to sea, " I can see that, and you've put the fear of the Pantocrator into both the crew and my household.......though not yours I see..."
The Baron looked again out to sea, " Call your folks over, we've food and drink and repairs will be finished by first light I'm told."
" So.....any dangers we need be wary of? First and foremost."
His expression shifted, " Those were reavers......dead reavers......a new trick the Capellers have picked up or? I mean I've seen things but that was something I could have gone without..."
" Captain Thangvald! "
The wiry Mercanian man approached carefully, " Yes, Milord."
" This man and his folk are, as you know, part of my household, and I trust they will bring no harm upon us. Is that enough for the crew?"
" Aye, they're scared shitless....but with the Blue Men gone without rhyme or wrack they'll settle enough."
He fixed Sir Almeric with a look partly wary and partly curious, " The dead are back below where they belong and we all have a tale to tell.....they'll hold true."
Baron Aldred chuckled, " I'm sure of it."
" Now...Almeric. What do we know? Any of yours are free to weigh in."
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Almeric stood stoically, on the prow of the longship, next to the Jarl. Time seemed to stand still, as if commanded by the Draugr's raised hand. His worse fears were being realised, the Retinue seemed crippled with mistrust, indecision and division. Perhaps this was how his command ended, with a whimper, on the desolate Thulish coast? At least Almeric would not have to walk home, with the Draugr at his command he could travel anywhere. A wry smile crossed his face, hiding his true turmoil and sadness.
Almeric turned to assess the ship and crew a little further. He considered what provisions and equipment he might need, to make travelling on this ship survivable? A tarp maybe, and some rope, to create some cover with blankets and a bedroll? He imaged the speed the ship might reach, 20 knots? He knew he could control the ship once in a day, which meant a range of maybe 400 miles, at 20 knots for 20 hours? How uncomfortable would it be to spend 20 hours on this ship! He shuddered with the thought. Perhaps this was much better suited to close assault, or fast egress from difficult situations?
He thought about the possible situations which could be used to end the curse? A full assault, where the Draugr were all killed, or destroyed their target. Where could he possibly stage such an attack and who is deserving of such a fate? BEORN. The lickspittle was still cowering in Baron Grisaile's castle in West Albion. He deserved such a fate, the death of a traitor! Grisaille's castle is in Wincaster, nowhere near the sea. It is by the Coronach March though. Could a shallow bottomed longship navigate the march? It must be 100 miles to the sea???
Perception = 16 (Ships compliment and Shelter for the living?)
A large black-backed gull winged overhead and landed on top of the mast surveilling the tableau below with interest, as if intrigued by the tension and strained connections. After a few moments the bird took off again winging its way out to see with a high cat-;like call.
The waves rolled over the pebbles lending more squeaks and shifts to the soudscape......and yet to many of the companions it was if all sound had been banished and life hung on a hairsbredth....
Cainneach shakes his head wearily and lowers his bow. Replying to Ori, "I'll kill all of them again, as many times as is necessary, if you and I are right and the foul things on that ship turn against us. Wouldn't be the first time we bail this group out, and most certainly won't be the last. I trust you, man. Let's haul this cursed stuff aboard and join the rest of these loons. You watch my back and I'll watch yours." He then turns to Famh and Thatch and says, "I hope to any god that will listen that your faith in this vessel is not misplaced, but I guess this isn't yet the time for us to part." He glances at Famh, a questioning look in his eyes, unsure of the words that would formulate a sufficient response to her entreaties, but unable to fully make eye contact. Finally and before lifting the litter with Ori, Cainneach very deliberately addresses Salt. "Listen old boy, I know this is not going to be to your liking, but we have to go look after our friends. Just stay with me and everything will be okay, you understand?" The hound whimpers, but nestles up close to Cainneach and seems inclined to follow as they proceed toward the dead longship.
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Ori's shoulders teach back up as the reality sinks in what he's agreeing too. He turns to Cainneach, "Best we keep our eyes open and wits about us, for we will have other to watch out for. Worry about the rest when mutany begins." As he bends down to gather his handhold on the litter he whispers to Cainneach:
Watch out for the other, I'll be going for the head of the serpent, whoever that turns out to be...
Walking towards the boat, Ori makes it clear that he will steer clear of the undead crew and refuse any assistance offer by them boarding or bring aboard his cargo. He trys to find as secure and guardable spot to store the staffs/litter.
(for two reasons. well, two besides the stated one that Famh really IS growing up in unexpected ways. The first of the others, is the upcoming of Saint Valentinius's Day IRL, so we ought to give our two dear Thules the chance to celebrate their first together as a fully realized couple; and the second, that this scene on the beach hasn't been nearly dramatic ENOUGH yet and Famh wants to do her part by throwing in the proverbial kitchen sink ;-D ... a little unpolished perhaps, since she'd imagined having a bit more time to work on it before she told him, but, as she reflects, ...)
<3 @@@&&&@@@ <3
Famh's mind is in a whirl as her sudden unexpected growth spurt sends waves washing out through her heart and soul to transform an ever increasing number of the facets of her life ... including the one which has been chiefest on her mind ever since she met Cainneach in Igham. Their disagreement on the beach feels more like the knotty, sometimes thorny day-to-day wranglings of Couples she remembers from her far-off girlhood than it resembles the mistily vague 'wooings and cross-purposes' of the old sagas . And she remembers that at the end of the day those couples still loved each other and made peace ... or not, sometimes the muffled shouting went on half the night and you pretended you weren't lying awake trying not to listen ... to emerge as a whole couple again next morn. In short, this simple difference of opinion has reminded her that she's wooing Cainneach in the real world of here and now, that there never WILL be a perfect time to tell him she loves him in good plain Elleslandic, and if she waits any longer it might be grave gaunts next time instead of just draugr!
She takes Cainneach by the arm and draws him away from the others as they walk towards the longship. . Not too far, though. She feels that she will either want witnesses to her triumph and supreme bliss; or else it will require more than one person to pump her out of the earth into which she's sunk in an absolute puddle of heartbroken embarrassment. She is, after all, still Famh; and her maturity is a faerie maturity, tinged with rose and amethyst. And as she draws him aside she finds her butterfly mind flickering over all their time together.
In that time she's slowly come to realize that while she was certainly a talker, her 'neach leannan was ... not quite as much. Although she'd not had much of a chance in her girlhood, she'd since found in words, and in the sheer intricacies of so seemingly simple a thing as talking with folk, a source of endless wonder and delight; of art and yes, sometimes of power too. While Cainneach was more a noble stag from his own shadow-dappled greenwoods, who when he did not bell went slipping through those green shadows silent and beautiful. When he'd explained his concerns about the longship to her so eloquently, she thinks, it might have been the most fully she remembers hearing him speak since she'd known him. But being such a tonguesmith herself now, she'd only slowly come to understand how deeply and tenderly he communicated without words. It had taken the trip through this hideous ruin for her to understand that when he draped his arm comfortingly around her shoulders … like that time when she was so distraught remembering the days she was hungry enough she might have eaten that demon serpent she fried just after Fergus threw it up; .. that that gesture from him was an endearment fully as vast in magnitude as her blurting out an unequivocal leannan instead of continuing to call him a ghraid.
* (That reminds her: ...she did wonder at the time why he said it, 'mo ghraid'. She'd never known any of the folk of the western Pagans, bar him ... it might be naught but a slight difference of speech from her clan's abd the others on the Mergeld side of those mountains … Where was she again?.) *
,,, Yes, she'd rather he told her the truth, how he really feels without worrying about hurtin - ... she would, she really ... she was only teasing about that puddle part, she ... suddenly realizes she'd drawn him aside and then walked along in complete silence gazing at him at him long enough for a rather puzzled look to cross his face. She is hardly in any fit state to appreciate the irony, Instaed, she takes the longest, deepest breath of her life and then begins.
"'neach. You know we've been good friends since I met you in Igham. But we can't go on so anymore now, not until we talk at least. Cainneach; ... I ..., " the universe stops along with her heart a split century or so, she pauses hanging on its verge forever during the span of three brief seconds, and then it rushes out, "I LOVE you, 'neach leannan ghraid! With all my heart and soul I love you!!! Nothing we saw there," she dismisses Karvala's sordid hovel, the Mergeld Puddle, and a large part of southern Thuland and northern Albion to boot, with a single flip of her hand, "was so terrible to me as the fear I'd lose you, that's we'd be parted before I had the chance to tell you that. And I know you wanted to keep me safe; and I think you speak without words more than I, and I hope you ... Oh, but I wouldn't want to cage you either. Even in a cage of love. I was but teasin' ye just now, I know ye're at the least a good friend still, and if ye feel no more than that please do tell me true.”
“But Cainneach,' and now her eyes do take on a teasing sparkle that even a noble stag of the greenwoods could not mistake, even as her speech shades more towards the intimacy of the cradle dialect that in either case they both share, "if ye do think ye could love me, ye'd best make quite sure, leannan. I've always been an honest girl; and I'm afraid I can only give ye the traditional year and a day to court me ere I'll be speaking to Sir Almeric and the Baron about arranging for a little ceremony for ye to make an honest woman of me!" She winks at him. "But after, or if ye truly are but a still dear friend then, I meant what I said earlier today. If it wasn't yesterday already, who knows how many hours we've lost inside that ... but anyhow. Either way... as friend or as leannan ... I'd love to travel with you, Cainneach, anywhere. And let’s learn to fight together to keep each other safe, instead of you rushing off the cliff to catch me from falling into the chasm I’ve toppled into to catch you."
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Cainneach nods twice and grunts his agreement with Ori's assessment of what they'll be facing after stepping on the ghost ship. While the thought of Ori rearing back to tear into the undead captain with his great spiked club holds a certain morbid appeal, Cainneach hopes things won't come to that. But, better to prepare for the worst, as the saying goes, so he imagines himself right alongside, arrows firing rapidly at crewmen everywhere. Enjoying this little daydream, Cainneach bends over, picks up the litter, and starts to carry it to shore with the barbarian and, of course, Salt, padding along warily at their side.
(I'll skip quoting @OisinmacCameron's post to save the space ;-)
Already on edge and with his gaze firmly fixed on their rickety conveyance, Cainneach scarcely notices the Thulish girl striding alongside him until she slips her arm in his. He nearly drops the litter in surprise and gives her a puzzled look. It becomes even more perplexed as the forester attempts to discern the meaning of the look on her face, dreamy and somehow both earnestly present and far away at the same time. There is also a slight tug, as though Famh, subconsciously or not, wants something from him. Why now? He needs to be alert, focused on the danger in front of them, not with his attention divided by the admittedly lovely girl. Salt seems equally confused as to why she had taken up the space at his side where he, the faithful and currently quite afraid hound, needed to be. The dog's large head keeps awkwardly squeezing in between the two, then falling back as he equally awkwardly bumps into their legs.
Thankfully, this is quite a long walk and finally Cainneach signals to Thatch, inquiring if the young man might relieve him of his litter duty for the moment so he might find out what Famh is up to. After handing off the litter to Thatch and directing Salt to stay with he and Ori, Cainneach allows himself to be pulled a little away from the group by Famh. While still quite naive around women, he can tell she is fairly bursting with some sort of account, so Cainneach keeps his mouth shut and allows her to speak, which is his preference anyway.
(One outpouring of emotion later ...)
The poor young forester's face flushes red, cheeks burning as he quickly glances about looking for reactions from anyone he believes to be in earshot. There is no chance he would notice any threat emerging on their dread vessel now, even if it started hurling meteors upon the shoreline. Currently speechless, Cainneach tries to process everything slamming through his mind, plummeting to his heart, pinging around there like shrapnel, then flinging back up again into his addled brain. The train of thought runs roughly upon these tracks: "Of course this is what I want, I love her too, but why now, Famh, in front of almost everyone I know in this world? Why now in this horrible place where we've yet again almost died, you've nearly been stuck as a giant elk, and where we're striding heroically toward a ship of dead Mercanians, cursed by even worse Magi of Krarth, whoever they were? I love this girl, but by the gods, she's a mess! Although I guess if she wanted to tell me before we all die on this ship of fools, this really is the only chance ..." Cainneach's internal dialogue is analogous to Famh's voiced ramblings, and at least as awkward, for he eventually realizes that she is staring at him quite intently, and probably becoming quite uncomfortable at his continued silence, if he had to make a guess. Cainneach takes her arm more firmly and leads her a bit farther away from the group, saying quietly as they proceed, "Uhh, Famh, I uh, I wasn't really expecting this here and now, and in front of everyone. I don't know much of love truly, I grew up in the wilderness alone and then with Dru, when most fellows would have been exchanging secret glances with fair maidens and all that. But I think, nae, I know that I love you, too, leannan. And when this nasty bit of business with the Barons is all done, I hope I have the chance to properly court you, and I can be chivalrous, and you can be demure, and it will be like all those stories I groaned at when I was a wee lad, but wonderful now! But I am worried, not about the ceremony and concerns of the True Faith, I'm thinking more about your ... extended family. When I mentioned a while back about finding the Aos Si ... I'm not sure they'll find me worthy of your hand, but I think we need to know, else they'll make terrible mischief for us. But look, that's all off in the future, right now we need to survive this wretched ship and whatever else lies in wait to snare us all in misery. No rushing off cliffs, no falling into chasms, leannan, we keep each other safe by learning to fight together, as you say." He raises her hand in his and gives it a gentle kiss, before smiling at her and then leading the way back toward their party's optimistic procession to Almeric's ship of the damned.
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Famh sighs happily. "Of course, Cainneach. I did lose my head a bit there, and you're right, that's in the future." Falling back into her accustomed place beside him, she joins him in boarding the ship.
As the longship pushes off from shore, Famh looks over the side and sighs. "Poor Tusk. He must have swum in right over these horrid draugr and their ship when he came here." Then a new thought arrests her a moment. "But wait... If I found it so scary at first when Tusk charged me and I didn't know who he was, what must it have been for these poor draugr to have that great vast shape swimming over them blocking out the sun, and they NEVER finding out it was but a poor lost seal-lyon?"
Of course, little can distract her from her happiness right now, and the mention of Tusk is quite enough to redirect her attention back to her newfound love. She quickly finds the place they will be sitting for the brief voyage back to the Linden and settles in next to Cainneach with her arm draped tenderly around his shoulders. Then she glances at him with a curiously shy smile. It suddenly seems to her as if, deeply familiar and beloved as he is now, she is meeting him for the very first time. She realizes how little she truly knows about his life before they met. In many cases she's learned just enough that she doesn't want to make his pain worse reopening old wounds. But she hopes the majestic veteran of the sea that they had helped rescue together would be far enough from the slings and arrows of a past that had treated him with such outrageous fortune.
"You're a forester, leannan, and you're so wise about all the creatures the Holy Ones have made. Did ye ever have aught to do with a seal-lyon before? ... " She pauses.
" ... Though I don't suppose they would have been all that common in Fenring Forest. And I'm terribly curious about your life in that place too. I only saw the outskirts on my last wanderings south. After I left the coast, it was mostly safest to travel between the first trees and the southern foothills of the Pagans until those turned into The Shriven Hills and led me out just north of Igham. That;s when the Widow Mavis met me and had the kindness to take me in, on the road near that ruined fort just north of the village. I think she was coming back on her palfrey from some business in Norham, and it was just at the fall of twilight when she rode by and saw me just about to light my fire for the night among the first fallen stones of the ruin. And she looked over and said to me, 'Oh, child, that's a terrible place to spend the night! It's hard and cold and the bears will eat you up ere morning. You'd best come with me, poor lost lamb, and you can help tend my sheep so you needn't feel ashamed to accept.' I didn't understand then what she meant about bears, but of course that's 'Beorn' in the Old Speech; so I wonder if she had some inkling about the traitor even then and was trying to warn me about his roving band of thugs. Anyhow, I was more than happy to accept her kind offer and sleep within doors, so they never found me. But I never did get to see all the beauties of the forest you found such a refuge, either. What was it like?"
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Almeric breathed a sigh of relief as everyone eventually boarded the Draugr ship, treasure and all. Finally they were ready to leave and after what had seemed live an eternity, Almeric nodded to the Jarl, who's hand drops...
"This should be a short journey. It took us a few hours to walk here, cross country and I expected to return at a much faster speed. Let's see how fast these fellows can row! Cainneach, Thatch, we will need signal arrows, if you please, ready to loose as soon as we are in range of the Linden. One before we land and one after. We will land 150' up the beach from the Linden, so as not to alarm and allow them to acknowledge us. Famh, please guard the treasure and keep the wands safe and untouched until we can give them to Myrddin. I'm sure hi wisdom will be invaluable. "
Signal arrows were blunted and lighter than normal shafts, allowing them to travel further, without doing any actual damage. The shafts are painted in the colours of the lord, Baron Aldred in this case, to identify you others who are friendly and not aware of your presence. Every archer carried 1 signal arrow in their quiver, as a standing order. This tried and tested method of communication was in common use in armies of the Western Lands, and Aldred would be well versed in it. This should reduce the chance of any unfortunate misunderstands, notwithstanding the nature of there arrival.
"We have a lot to discuss when we are safe home and will have a full debriefing at that time. Until then, please reflect on your thoughts and feelings privately. I would be grateful if we can present a united front for the benefit and reassurance of the Baron, at least until we have all had time to think, reflect, discuss and reach a consensus on our experiences."
Almeric allows himself a moment to drink in the experience; the sea breeze blowing away the smell of death, the salty spray in his face smarting his eyes, the long dead Draugr rowing him home. Victories needed to be celebrated. The harder fought, the better the celebration! He looked at the Draugr again, with his tactical brain and considered ways to release them from their curse.
If the Draugr can be 'freed' by attacking a target in which they, or the target are all destroyed, this presented an unique opportunity to Almeric. To strike a devastating blow at an enemy, or meet justice to a vile criminal? If he chose the right target, at the right time, this could bring tremendous glory, prestige and renown to him AND the Retinue. Bards would write poems about it and songs would be sung. This was a crew of hardened warriors, Mercanian raiders, led by their Jarl. About 30 Draugr, in their lean and fast longship, ideal for naval assault, coastal attack, or even a river raid far inland? More thought was needed.
Seeing Cainneach and Fahm walk off from the group a bit after transferring the litter duties with Thatch, Ori taps Thatch and nods to the pair. "Poor fella is probably getting an earful for not choosing the same path as her right away back there. She seems a bit sparatic so probably letting him down pretty hard right now, best keep an eye on him after being let down like that. We still need them both at thier best." Though probably lose enough to actually hear the conversation, Ori is certain he knows how that's going down, he's been there before, but mostly his attention is still elsewhere watching out of the corner of his eyes and listening to the undead crew and Almeric. But he still tries to act like his attention isn't on them so fully by half heartedly mingling with the others. Ori will pay close attention to Almeric and his interactions with this captain while they sail.
Famh is slowly becoming reconciled to the presence of the silent draugr. As fellow children of misfortune, indeed, she is even beginning to feel a little bit of pity for them in her heart. They might belong to the people who had been harrying her coastal home since time immemorial, but they yet had died trying to free her coast from Karvala's evil. And she has ample time to get used to their nearness while she is securing the cursed part of the treasure under her bench as the knight commanded.
In no way does this replace her interest in Cainneach, and she listens with all her ears to whatever he may wish to share about his days in Fenring; she feels sorry about ignoring Salt's fear, too, and stretches out a conciliatory hand whenever he whimpers. But as her forester finishes speaking and a silence falls, she finds herself watching the subtle interplay between Sir Almeric and the Mercanians' Jarl with interest. The two men, the living and the dead, spoke no words that she could hear; but the beat of the Capellar's drum seemed to convey to Jarl Hagr exactly what the Albish knight wished. She couldn't tell how or to what degree Sir Almeric was in turn understanding what the spirit wished to tell him; and since the knight hadn't seen fit to enlighten her on the subject she does not even think to ask. The experience of being trusted by all -- including Sir Almeric, whom she had sworn to serve as a freewoman of his household -- has begun to change Famh in ways she has barely yet begun to understand. The old Famh might simply have resented her curiosity being baffled. Now, having had a taste of the burden as well as the power of command, she begins to sense that there might be times when Sir Almeric sharing all he knows could actually imperil the retinue's success ... or even their lives! And seeing the eternally frozen look of loss and failure in the dead Mercanians' eyes, she begins to sense that there are some things she might prefer not to know.
That thought brings her around full circle to her newfound compassion for them. She feels almost mean as she snuggles into Cainneach's living warmth and watches men toil for them who will never feel the embrace of a loved one again until their spirits are released to seek whatever Heaven could possibly compensate for the Hell they had been through at Karvala's hands. As many times before when Famh has been in perplexity, the voice of Brither Cadfael whispers from the secret corners of her past and reminds her of a little service she can do the Mercanians to thank them for their aid. She waits until Sir Almeric is at leisure and then, whispering to Cainneach, "I've just thought of something I want to tell our knight.," makes her way over to him as best she can in the narrow longship without encumbering the draugr crew in their labors.
"It's most admirable you mean to work towards releasing these poor men as soon as they've brought us where we need to go, Sir. And I've remembered a prayer of blessing and an invocation of peace that might help them rest a little easier. Brither Cadfael taught it me, long ago, as a night prayer for the road to soothe away any troubles the day may have brought and call Gatanades' peace upon my rest. I think these Mercanians could use a bit of that peace after their long torments at Karvala's hands. I'll ask Fergus to write down a copy, since I've not learned my letters yet, but here's how the prayer went."
Her prayer finished, she returns to Cainneach's side and settles with a clearer conscience back into the arms which from now till evermore will enclose her heart within their deep, strong peace.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
It probably should have been a relief to Cainneach to know that his affection for Famh was mutual, although upon reflection the young forester realized he probably had taken it for granted that it was so. Rather, their current circumstances of travel and his agreement with Ori had left Cainneach on edge as he perched upon the bench on the deck, his beloved's arm laid upon him. His mind was divided between dutifully keeping watch over the ghastly crew, ready to take up arms, and Famh, who was apparently ready to dive into any topic that happened to enter her beautifully active mind. Trying to devote an appropriate amount of energy to carry the conversation, he responds, "I don't think I've ever seen a seal-lyon before, although I do recall an occasion where I saw some creatures that seemed like smaller versions. It was from quite a distance, so difficult to say. I'll certainly never forget this massive beast, though! Incredible animal, truly majestic, but definitely would not be at home in Fenring Forest. What can I tell you about that place? Oh, let's see ... I was twelve when my kin were murdered by Clan Chisholm, probably spent about a year wandering through the Pagans and into Ereworn. I didn't know what I was doing, where I was going. It was only through sheer luck, and maybe a wee bit of fey protection, that I managed to pop out south into the Shriven Hills, still intact. I was terrified to be out in the open, though. I was fairly naive in thinking that those bastards from Clan Chisholm would still be hunting me down and all I knew was that heading west, which led me into Ereworn, had done me terribly wrong, so I headed east along the foothills of the Pagans until I ended up in Fenring. Not the easiest place to get by, as there are all manner of strange men and beasts, but I felt more at home there at least. Still didn't know exactly the best way to live in lands like that, but it seemed lush compared to the hardscrabble time I'd spent off the beaten path in the Pagans. I thought I'd make my way south, as the areas near the Shriven Hills were riddled with bandits, but I ran into what I came to know from Dru as the Finster Moor. Making my way further east, I nearly ran right out of the forest and into a town, Scoruburn. It was around that time that Dru found me, lingering on the fringes of the forest, trying to decide if it was worth returning to civilization. She scared me half to death, I never saw or heard her approach. I must have looked deranged, for she interrogated me quite stiffly about my intentions, where I'd come from. When she heard of my plight and my journey, she gave me a choice: to leave the forest, and have the gods know what done to me by the 'civilized' peoples of Scoruburn, or to stay with her, free, safer, and to learn much better how to survive. Honestly, I was pretty terrified of leaving the forest after over a year on my own, and all the people I'd encountered in Fenring seemed fairly rotten, so I assumed the townsfolk were likely no better. So, I stayed with Dru ... for over five more years, learning from her, learning about the Forest, the town, the other towns to the south, the Shriven Hills, and more of navigating the southern fringes of the Pagans. We saw all manner of interesting beast, but also other sorts of ... people, and the occasional horrible creature. There were even rumours of a dragon in the west, but I never saw one."
Cainneach pauses while Almeric delivers instructions regarding the use of their signal arrows. He nods at the Capellar to acknowledge that he understands the instructions, then casts a glance at Ori and nods to him as well, showing that Cainneach is still wary of any treachery from their undead guides.
After Famh rises to speak with Almeric and deliver her blessing upon the unfortunate Mercanians, Cainneach takes the opportunity to stand and stretch his legs, scan the ship from a slightly higher vantage point for any reactions or change in mien of the Jarl or his crew, and to give Salt some reassurance as the ship of the mostly dead crashed through the waves toward the Linden. When the Thulish lass returns to his side, he embraces her and kisses her upon the head, while continuing to watch over their friends for a moment longer, until she pulls him back to the bench and nestles in his arms.
Perception 18
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
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(edited for obsessiveness)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
The ship slid back from the shore impossibly easily turning in the grey waves with the barest touch of an oar, the crew of dead ignored the living completly fixed only upon the directives of their captain and he fixed only upon the one who held the drum.
The ship slipped through the waves as if its timbers were coated in oil, paying little heed to swell, roll or crest as it rounded the point and set for the points of light denoting campfires on the shore dead ahead.
As the longship crossed the bay the companions took comfort and shelter....and watch....in their own ways, of them all Salt was probably the most miserable though none were exactly comfortable with their bloated grey fleshed oarsmen.
Signal arrows were fired by Cainneach and Thatch as the ship hauled for shore, where already they could see the crew and members of the Barons household forming a defensive line with archers behind.....the made out one of the crew picking up an arrow, though whether Thatchs or Cainneachs it was impossible to tell.....
The shields and blades did not lower and arrows remained nocked in wariness as the longship rushed in and pushed itself up and partway onshore....
Almeric is impressed at the speed, grace and manoeuvrability of the Dragon Ship, notwithstanding the dark magic that powered it through the water. The crew were completely focussed on the Jarl with the captain totally obedient to the holder of the drum. It may even be possible to travel longer distances aboard this ship, in tolerable conditions. He would need to return to Meore as soon as possible to report the location of the Blue Moon Temple. Maybe this would be a viable mode of transport?
As the ship beached, Almeric surveyed the tactical position, nodding in appreciation of the Linden's rapid response and defensive formation. Aldred was ever a cautious man and astute soldier. Certainly, this was a standard reaction to the unexpected arrival of a Mercanian Longship. The signal arrows should be re-assuring. Almeric saluted the Jarl and signalled to everyone to disembark. "I will call upon you again and will release you from your curse soon." Vaulting from the bow to land deftly below, he strode up the beach. Athletics = 18
"Unload the treasure and wait here for me. I will go alone and identify myself to Aldred. When all is secure, I'll signal you to approach."
Almeric prepared his weapons to signal to Aldred that he was approaching in peace. His shield was held upside down and his sword was held by the blade. Both of these practices were widely used during parley across the Western Lands. Even the Ta-ashim recognise these non aggressive gestures as used during the Crusades. Almeric walks with a measured pace towards the Linden, presenting a clearly visible target, projecting non aggression.
Famh grips Cainneach's hand tightly as Sir Almeric walks slowly towards the encampment they had left peacefully so many centuries before, where she can make out the tall figure of Baron Aldred at the post of command with Myrrdin by his side. "This is the kittle moment, leannan. Let's fight our best together if it comes to that, and pray even harder that it doesn't." Remembering some of what she'd learned in Karvala's tower, she finds a good sized chunk of stone and brings it over beside her, pretending she only wanted it to rest her foot on as she leans on her sgeain dubh-topped short staff to ease part of her weight off the other foot. In this deceptively peaceful posture, she watches the interaction unfolding farther down the beach. She deliberately avoids fixating on the interaction between Sir Almeric and Baron Aldred, instead using her peripheral vision to actually watch the flanks of the Linden's line for any unexpected movement.
===========================
Perception 9
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
(um ... guess Famh's peripheral vision innt too good, eh?)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Thatch steps up to take the litter from Cainneach, the treasure sliding and tilting as he struggles to keep it even. He figures it must be quite the sight with the hulking figure of Ori on one side and his small frame on the other. He looks over at Cainneach and Famh as Ori taps him on the shoulder “Don’t really know much about what goes on in a women’s mind Ori, now there was the one serving maid but” Thatch’s face reddens slightly “now Master Hotspur, he had a way with the ladies. He would know, still I think Cainneach will be alright, I think they both will.”
Thatch was grateful for the distraction the need for signal arrows provided, allowing him to ready his bow and focus on other things. He stands next to Cainneach at the front of the ship and let loose, his own arrow falling a little shorter than the one fired from the ranger’s longbow, but he still hopes it is enough. He helps Ori with the litter once again as they disembark the ghost ship, glad to have solid ground under his feet again and the undead crew behind him. Once safely ashore he stands awkwardly, his bow by his side, and watches as Sir Almeric makes his way back to the baron.
Ori, still gruff about the whole situation, made worse by the fact the ship was much smoother then then Linden, watched Sir Almeric and Captain Jarl like a hawk. A few warning threats to passing by crew clearly had no sway on the crew members and Ori solely focused his attention st thosevat the top.
Hearing Almeric give the order to unload their cargo but stay behind as he goes off, Ori looks to Cainneach. "Right in the middle of this lot, close enough for them to strike the Linden and the only one that can control these vermin runs off." Seeing Thatch go for the staffs Ori helps him maneuver the litter without the staffs falling free.
(OOC - forgot to add this to my post. This is annoying, especially as it may have triggered Ori.)
ERRATA
As Almeric strode up the beach towards the Linded, his intuitive connection to Jarl Hagr via the Silver Chased Black Wood Drum, made him completely aware of the Jarls actions and commands to the crew. As soon as the Retinue were disembarked, treasure and all, the Jarl raised his hand once more to get the attention of his crew. His orders complete, they would return to the deep once more and await Almeric to fulfil his promise of releasing them from their curse. As gracefully and silently as before, the Dragon Ship slips into the water, turns effortlessly and rows out to sea. Without warning, the ship suddenly plunges into the a water, without so much as a splash!
Aware the the significant threat has gone, this should put Aldred at his ease and all should be well. The Retinue will also be pleased that the Draugr are gone too.
As Almeric got within shouting distance, he called out. "MY LORD ALDRED, TIS ALMERIC DAYNE, fear not! We have all safely returned from the scouting mission and made some 'friends' while we were there. I stand ready for inspection and to re-assure you all is well." If Almeric and Aldred had agreed a password, which is very plausable, Almeric gives it.
The companions stood together on the beach the travois of plunder between them as they watched Almeric walk towards Baron Aldred and the longship disappear beneath the waves.
Baron Aldred nodded and came forward with a somewhat bemused expression on his face as he glanced out to sea, " I can see that, and you've put the fear of the Pantocrator into both the crew and my household.......though not yours I see..."
The Baron looked again out to sea, " Call your folks over, we've food and drink and repairs will be finished by first light I'm told."
" So.....any dangers we need be wary of? First and foremost."
His expression shifted, " Those were reavers......dead reavers......a new trick the Capellers have picked up or? I mean I've seen things but that was something I could have gone without..."
" Captain Thangvald! "
The wiry Mercanian man approached carefully, " Yes, Milord."
" This man and his folk are, as you know, part of my household, and I trust they will bring no harm upon us. Is that enough for the crew?"
" Aye, they're scared shitless....but with the Blue Men gone without rhyme or wrack they'll settle enough."
He fixed Sir Almeric with a look partly wary and partly curious, " The dead are back below where they belong and we all have a tale to tell.....they'll hold true."
Baron Aldred chuckled, " I'm sure of it."
" Now...Almeric. What do we know? Any of yours are free to weigh in."