Vardi has been short on words after the fury of combat, only inquiring if her comrades are well with a pottery jar of heather salve in her hand and praising Skokki quietly for his bravery as she feeds him.

Sometimes the Joturn-kin looks sideways at the captive harbringer, with the air of a child who has met with a monster in the dark from the tales, found them less fearsome than the tales told of, yet is still cautious of what claws might be but sheathed for now.

Indeed, the Lytenwoman's silence is a sign of much thought as she considers what little she knows of Harbringers and their ways, and finds herself without answers, something that troubles her more deeply than she would be easily willing to admit. 

So she nods in agreement with keeping them in front of the party at all times, then watches and listens, curiosity tempered by caution, guarding against what she does not know, but feels as if she should.

The enemy knight she treats with polite indifference, seeing him as a threat known of old to the others of the retinue, thus a threat without mystery in their malice. The matter of their current errantry being of their own malice or at the behest of a higher malevolence is one she can offer only a wry guess at. 

Vardi offers in a whisper in passing to Ser Almeric "I cannae speak of Albish stipends, but I'd doubt tha' yon ass in armour paid fer those who came with him out of his own purse, nay matter wha' he brays."

She gathers together and searches the bodies of the fallen Harbringers with nervous care under the branches of the nearest large tree to the path, as one thing the tales did oft mention was poison, a danger that she'd rather was not left lying by the roadside for the unwary to find. 

OOC: Sorry for being slow in posting. Life happens, and a lot of it all at once this week. @OsinmacCameron: Glad to hear your mum is in recovery. 

Also OOC: Perception Check for Vardi while moving/searching bodies of 14. 

The band marched on drawing ever nearer to Beltayne, they got a good rest overnight recovering from most of their injuries though there were still bruises and aches aplenty for the most badly pummelled.

Cainneach-   notes during his watch three figures in dark dyed plaid sitting well out from the encampment watching the retinue though they do not approach near enough that he fears attack he is almost certain that their intention is to retrieve the Harbinger prisoner at some point....he does retrieve some 30 gp from a false lining in the Harbingers jerkin that he notes while checking their bonds.

Famh- is a little too distracted by her new project to note their Harbinger shadows, she is certain Cainneach will also find some affection for the russet creature....though she also notes that Skoggi has taken an interest in the possibility that the squirrel is some sort of entertainment or possibly a meal.

Ori- Ori finds a raven feather and onyx necklace around the Harbinger elders neck and a number of bronze rings engraved with symbols of Badb, Morrigan and others.  He also discovers a pouch of brightly colored dried mushrooms and an uncut sapphire ( 40 gp).

Thatch- his vigilance on watch spoils a raid to free the Harbinger prisoner in the early hours of the morning and the enemy flees for the hills before Thatch even needs to rouse the others.  He discovers a silver flask of brandy dropped by the wayside of the road as they travel.

Vardi- To her puzzlement Vardi finds no poison or venoms on the bodies of the Harbingers, she is certain there is a reason as they are known to make use of such concoctions but these ones carry none.  Skoggi has taken an interest in Famhs new companion........possibly a culinary one.  Vardi finds a small pocketbook of poems tucked inside one of the Mercenaries belt pouches.

Rising and continuing on the retinue noted a familiar a small grove of pines ahead

The land is still slightly hilly here and they are slowly descending into the great wide river valley below the foothills of the majestic Pagans to their rear.

Some hours later....

Passing now through hillocks covered in crop stubble and hedgerows the companions noted scattered holdings off from the trade road. People watched the procession as they passed and small children alternately called out or watched the 'strange folk' in silence, though some seemed to recognise them from their journey outward.

Soon the midday sun was climbing over head as they drew near the walls of Beltayne and the northern gate.

At the gate they were queried regarding their two bound prisoners, but mention of Duke Carnasse and Baron Aldred soon got them waved through.

" I will take Digby and this other fellow to be jailed for the meantime....I am sure many folks will want to speak with them."

" Your all in need of and deserve good rest, I'll find the Baron and make your apologies while you do so.", Sir Almeric finished.

.

( You all have 24 hours to yourself in Beltayne and Sewark Keep. Feel free to detail/gloss over as you wish.)

(catching up on that PRS 7 roll first, see a way to massage it into an RP opportunity, then if Famh wants to do anything the 24 hrs in Beltayn I'll edit it in.  Rather suspect she will. given her current focus, but if those she trusts in the retinue advise her to wait or if that seems best on further thought then  she'll focus exclusively on Cainneach and on working out arrangements for Ethlinn.)

Famh's eyes nearly fill with tears as she sees how ill her attempt to persuade the Harbinger chieftain to tell her what she wants to know has gone.  Her newfound self-confidence and poise temporarily abandon her; and given the slings and viscissitudes of her past, it is not surprising that a failure that brings her scorn and humiliation ... or even brightens the e'e of a foeman at the expense of her own shame ... should cut far deeper than the well-thrown dearg that simply outfoxed her own best efforts to fling herself aside at the last moment to make him miss. In the latter case, no one's pride or honour is involved, nor their reputation.  But Famh now feels she has made herself out a bit of a bright-e'ed fool, and every ounce of her humiliation rings out in a heartrending wail, "CAINNEACH!  Yon horrid mean Harbinger wonae tell me hou tae become a... a filidh!!!"

Then her entire face suddenly convulses as the ridiculousness of what she has just said washes over her like a refreshing wave of icy water from the highland-born streams she bathed in as a lass, and she has to stop walking a while as she doubles over in a fit of laughter that wrings all false pride out of her and leaves her the romantic but oddly level-headed shepherdess and lore-loving dreamer she has always been.  The soil of Thuland grows many beautiful flowers, but their roots are tough and deep-embedded in the sometimes thin-strewn glacial soil that covers all but a few fortunate parts of that rocky land.  A smudge of the same reddish soil marks Famh's mouth at the corner, making her look as if she is grinning on the one side and fighting to keep the other from laughing itself up to her left ear as she stands and gasps out, "Ah... a suppose thon's na the most persuasive way tae... "  A fresh wave of chuckling cuts the sentence short, and she has to draw in a long breath before she can continue. In the branches above, Ethlinn's rapid chittering sounds like a second wave of higher-pitched laughter woven into Famh's in an oddly beautiful counterpoint.

IN BELTAYN:

 Famh has spent the majority of her free attention for the rest of the journey back on three things: Cainneach (making a side note to herself to learn the healer's art after an unsuccessful attempt to sew up his wounds with Snathad that fortunately ended at the first pull when she misjudged the location of the stitch she was putting in and tore through a thankfully already callused and deid flap o' skin.  But Famh's tenderly penitent reaction at having "hurt her dear leannan" was melodramatic enough that the latter could be forgiven if he perhaps prolonged the suspense a little while before he let her know he was juist fine and that they could both borrow an application of heather salve from Vardi once her flask refills itself at dawn.); Ethlinn (finding out what the little creature best likes to eat and establishing how comfortable she is with cuddling in Famh's bosom as opposed to wanting to sleep in a tree); and ... also Ethlinn (addressing Skoggi and Salt with absolute seriousness and full confidence that they will understand and be moved to sympathy as she explains that the little squirrel is one of their companions now; that "...althouch she looks like their natural prey, her courage and goodness in fichtin' the guid ficht after her tragedy an na turnin' bitter an rainin' nuts doun upon us aw meant thon she deservit their fou regard as a creature pf honour thon Auntie Famh ha' come tae luv for her pluck in gaein' on; sae she'd be much obligit tae thaim gin they'd na hunt this particular squirrel, whose name wis Ethlinn an' wha wad surely be grateful an dae thaim a guid turn themselves someday gin she coud.")

 But as the Dayne retinue approaches the outskirts of Beltayn, she suddenly becomes acutely aware of the social step she is aspiring to take, and the necessity of being attentive to the whole tapestry of folk around her and the impression she is making in each one's regard.  In Thuland the role of the filidh truly bridges all classes, and though Famh herself has had little experience of social matters before her new life with the Dayne retinue she well knows that the sacred poets held at least half their power through ever having an ear for the pulse of laird and crofter and charcoal burner alike and ever being ready to capture the mood of the land in the truth they sang to that land.  Thus, she waves and smiles to the children after making sure her strange faerie ears are well hidden under the coif and barbette she has borrowed from Vardi for their return; and she has a definite ear and e'e out for the subtleties of speech and demeanour that swirl around the retinue as it makes its way in (Insight 14; Tides of Chaos for Advantage) to detect any unusual reactions or people in the crowd who don't seem to fit in with the general reaction to us ... no matter whether it's a more positive or a more negative reaction, or something else entirely, just anything unusual.  Anything she detects she will pass on to Ori as the retinue's Sergeant and ask him if he thinks she ought to pass it on to the scouts, the guide (Vardi) or Sir Almeric). 

And at Sir Almeric's final words of speaking to the Baron, she gives him almost a wistful look.  "Coud ye speir o' him... whit he thinks o' ma ambition tae turn filidh; an i case he approves o't in the liegewoman o' ane o' his household knichts, whit his advice micht be for seekin' an apprenticeship?  Or gin he coud speir the Duke hou tae gae aboot thon findin' a maester, sin' they're sic guid friends nou?"

)OK disce gremlins, tryn doit agin LOL ,.. ahem ... FAMH"S INSIGHT TO DETECT IF THERE ARE ANY UNUSUAL REACTIONS TO US IN THE CROWD, BURNING A TOC UNTIL HER NEXT REST TO GET ADVANTAGE 17)

(spiteful buggers, them.  Did NOT say '6d6", said "1d20, no +or- except the Advantage.  Which should be : (10), since second screenshot pf THIS post before sending attests code is right)

----

Regarding the odd red squirrel, dubbed Ethlinn by his beloved, Cainneach did indeed note the critter scurrying about, out of place and curious.  He'd seen such behaviour in his time spent in the more "civilized" forests of the Baron's land, but they were far from those sorts of woods.  Very curious, indeed.  There was likely little he could do to dissuade either Famh or the squirrel to relent, given what Cainneach knows of each.  So, he simply shrugs and replies, "As you like, leannan.  But I can't promise to keep your new companion safe, if it comes down to either protecting her or the rest of us.  And I'm not so sure what Salt will think of this critter, though he generally likes his quarry a bit larger."  The forester gives the little creature another glance, shaking his head with a small smile.

Cainneach joins Vardi in tending to and searching the remains of their vanquished foes.  He can tell she is unsettled by the Harbingers and is reluctant to relate to her anything he knows from his youth that would discomfort her even further.  "You fought bravely, Vardi, right in the thick of it.  I'm thankful we were all able to walk away from this one."  In his work, he finds a pouch filled with gold, stashed away.  For a moment, he thinks of pocketing it, in the name of providing a better life for he and Famh, but the forester knows better than to deprive his companions of their fair share.  Dutifully, Cainneach presents the pouch to Almeric.  "30 gold, by my count.  Maybe not enough to pay for the wounds we took in that scrape, but I'm happier having it in our hands than in the Harbinger's foul pockets."  As the day passes on, he also reports to Almeric the presence of those tracking us and his suspicion of who they might be.  Hopefully that information was useful to Thatch in thwarting the rescue attempt!  Salt remains well-behaved throughout, his training as a deerhound having quashed any instinct to dash off after such lowly creatures as squirrels, even possibly enchanted ones!

The forester is taken aback when he realizes that Famh seeks the knowledge of the loathsome Harbinger and relieved that she is rebuffed, though her initial plaintive outcry is difficult to take.  Fortunately, Cainneach's become a little accustomed to her quick recoveries and pauses before his anger at the wretched prisoner rises and causes him to do something drastic (and likely ignoble).  "Leannan, I'm sure there will be someone in Beltayne far better suited to guide you on that path than this horrible man.  Patience, my love."

Along the way, Cainneach makes a point to plant a magical acorn at each stop they make for the night.  Having safely reached Beltayne, Cainneach and Salt will gladly take advantage of the rest and will retire to his quarters at the first reasonable opportunity.  He is very curious to learn more of what Digby and his Harbinger lackey have been up to and their fate, but he'll leave that to Almeric and the other nobles for the moment.  After arising the next morning, he will wander the town, trying to blend in, and listen and watch for any rumours and news going through the town.

Passive WIS (Perception) 20  (can also read lips via the Observant feat) 

Ori takes the feathered dark rock necklace of the elder. He might have been on the wrong side of right, but one as formidable to Ori, and showed him weaknesses in himself to work on, deserved something more then a ditch resting place. SoOri made a point to dig shallow hole and buried the man's representation of his station, or so Ori guessed that's what it was. Refilling the hole, placing a sizable rock on it, and finally placed the physical body on top of it. Ori took the time to "place" the body, instead of simply pulling him into the ditch. Ori wasn't sure if his efforts would be seen as a insult or respect by his compadres or the elders, but a warrior spirt recognizes warrior spirts on the battle field where they should meet. Especially since Ori didn't feel that he had bested the man, the opposite as a matter of fact.

Grabbing the Morrigan ring and sapphire for his pockets to remember the encounter by, he takes the rest of the rings and mushrooms to the others, mostly to Famh to see if the others had any interest or thoughts on them before continuing on their way.

OOC: Before posting Ori's actions after arriving in Beltayn, does he get the sense that they will be leaving for home next or will they be spending more time in the area?

( Likely heading home.)

Once back in Beltayn, Ori hires a messenger to send a note to Meabh's father, checking in to see if Dochartaigh followed through with the tasks Ori had given the lad. Ori found himself thinking more and more about the lad, and the similarities of younger Ori and Dochartaigh's situations. Ori feels like he did right by the boy, but regrets how he handled it. That overly harsh stance was what "worked" on Ori, which was all inside Ori's mind by brow beating himself, but perhaps that wasn't the right approach with Dochartaigh. The boy was clearly looking for guidance, that's what got him in that situation to begin with where Ori made his own bad decisions. Thinking more of what he wished he had said, or wish he knew how Dochartaigh responded, and not sure if the farmer was equipped to manage the lad, Ori is reconsidering what he tasked Dochartaigh with. 

After sending the messenger on their way, Ori checks back in with Tana and Fergus, to learn about all they had to deal with being back at the keep. Bring them up to speed on all the highlights of the groups travels and great deeds done by the others, Ori would then search out Vardi.  He would mention his feelings that he didn't expect the group to stay very much longer and that if she would want to have the opportunity to leave with them, he would do what he could to make that opportunity happen. If she didn't wish too, Ori would fully understand and support that decision, but either way he owed her a dance at some place of her choosing and he intended to make good of that promise.

As Famh settles in and begins her arrangements for the care of Ethlinn, she is pleased to find that her new pet does not draw strange looks from the court ladies of Beltayn ... at least, not those who had accepted her before.  And the other half of the ducal seat's demoisellage seem to think that a squirrel is a pet rather a cut above Famh altogether ("Pet squirrels, specifically red squirrels, were popular exotic pets among the elite throughout Europe during the Middle Ages."), rather than thinking of the beast herself as an odd choice of animal companion.  But in practical terms, she is easily able to find another squirrel owner in Duke Carnasse's court to advise her and provide the names of craftspeople both able and willing to manufacture squirrel-sized leash and harness, food bowls, etc, etc. ... though her first two attempts to ask the ladies in question end only in rather haughty rebuffs (PRS rolls in log: 8,9).  But the third Lady she asks fully merits the title, graciously taking the time to not only answer the questions Famh thought to ask but also volunteering information about wrinkles of squirrel ownership that hadn't even occurred to her (PRS in log: nat 20).  It probably also helps that Famh still retains the finely honed instinct for camouflage she developed in her wandering days, and is already working to adapt her speech to the more polished accents around her while retaining enough of her newly refound native dialect to be just as comfortable when she is speaking to domestics and pages 

All in all, the experience proves to be refreshingly affirming for our waifish Thulish sorceress.  It also fully activates her maternal instinct, and once her new squirrel friend is comfortably bedded in she turns her attention to Cainneach, fussing and coddling until she feels assured his wounds have been properly tended to.  But she wants to do something more substantial for her intended, something that will aid him in his woodscraft or in his archery and also hearten him with the reminder of their love.  She also remembers noting, as Ori consulted her regarding the rings and mushrooms found on the Harbingers, that his hand was always unconsciously reaching for the small axes that were no longer there due to his gesture of kindness to Dochartaigh; and her own kindly spirit yearns to do something to recognize the courage and generosity of this companion who has become a friend.  Her brow knits briefly as she considers a possible scandal; but gift-giving is a deep and basic part of her Thulish Madhir culture and extends far beyond the household bounds of leannan and wife.  Besides the implications of status and position that such actions convey in her beloved ancient tales, smaller gifts have long been regarded as part of the basic social glue that strengthens the bonds of family and friendship.  The Dayne retinue is Famh's family now, at least until she and Cainneach set up a separate household of their own within that adopted clan; and so the gesture she is contemplating is quite appropriate if done properly according to the mores of warband and c[an.  And those are close enough to the chivalric ideals of Albish warriors that she trusts Ori will take the gift in the spirit it is intended ... and perhaps even ... 

... her eyes begin to sparkle as she makes certain connections and realizes who might be the most appropriate personages to help her present a gift of honour in the demesne in which the retinue currently is.  And what personal observations she has made that might allow her to to do something for the knight and laird of Dayne retinue as well as its forester and its Sergeant ...  Even as these thoughts are passing through her mind, her feet are carrying her to the office of the Duke's household seneschal, to request an audience of Lady Ailsa.  If this is granted, she will begin with a self-deprecating smile, "As time goes on, I'm appreciatin' more and more your Ladyship's patience with me when we first arrived. And though I'd like to ask you again a favour concerned with plenishing, it's no common market matter this time.  I'd like tae honour the courage and generosity that some companions of the Dayne retinue showed in our battles and alarums, by presentin' them each with a guerdon that recognizes their honour and quality. And I'd like your counsel and aid in procuring a proper token for each and arranging for the proper time and place to honour them with it."  If she seems to respond favourably to this rather bold request, Famh goes on, "It'll not suprise you that my eye was sharpest to note valour in the man I love; but truly, all my companions fought nobly and bravely, and if I pick and choose between them it's only because I haven't enough gold or enough wits to honour them all properly.  But aside from Cainneach, our Sergeant bore himself with courage and compassion befitting the most noble of duniwassals.   And Sir Almeric himself was the most noble of valiant lairds." 

The freckles dusting Famh's pale-skinned nose had been comparatively pale themselves the last time Lady Ailsa saw the disconcertingly unconventional Brymstone lass. Her time huddling miserably under an awning aboard the Linden had at the least partly guarded her complexion from the elements. Now, darkened by the wind and sun of a long campaign afield, they are quite visible as they suddenly bunch into a puckered knot in time with Famh's sudden thoughtful frown. "I really ought to honour all my companions of the journey north, but ... well, Vardi's not only a Kingswoman but a smith whose clan forges for King and Duke alike; and for the life o' me I canna think of a single thing I could gift her that she or her kinsfolk couldna make more featly and better found. So if you have any thoughts for an equal way to recognize her, I'd be grateful to ye. And also, if it's proper to honour Tana and Fergus at the same time for all they learned and did here while we were on the road."

"That leaves Thatch, Ori, Sir Almeric and of course my Cainneach." She looks about her, and her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper in case any of her companions should happen by and spoil the surprise by overhearing what she means to give them.

Lady Ailsa:

 (WIP)

(D_M: ought I to roll first to persuade the seneschal, or is the retinue in good enough odor at the Duke's court right now that that's not anything he would raise an eyebrow at?)

(and now that I mention those rings and mushrooms, sorry Ori for making ye wait sae lang, what exactly does Famh know about them? {Nature 17}{Arcana 16 or History(lore about Harbinger symbols and smithcraft) 24}

( No need to roll......hoping to get posts up tonight but running on very little sleep currently.)

(Och, aye kin understand that LOL!  Don't remember how much I posted in this thread but it's been the September from yoyswing heavell btween my mom's ER admission Sep. 11th that led to two stents in her left shoulder and an overall wonderful result in terms of her long term cardiac issues being dealt with as they ought have been ... well, since not here to grump,, great result but real sleep-and energy-wringer of a process when added to supporting a close friend in oscillating crisis and own ongoing neuroyoyo where actually the net things that have unexpectedly grown or developed outweigh the negatives ... nyhow, also can't remember the time conversion; here in Burlington VT US it kind of is tonight {11:23PM} and I'm decompressing in my favorite bar/retro video game arcade The Archives as the crises have now resolved and the real focus and time/energy consumer is planning for my mom's 88th birthday on Samhain day itself, a cool fact I've always loved to brag on .... 'though she likes to joke that if HER mom had waited 10 minutes longer she'd have been a saint instead of ... LOL ... for those not as familiar with the Christian church holidays, the day after Halloween (Samhain) is All Saints Day, when everyone who has died in that faith is remembered and celevbrated.  Anyhow,