Ori: "Oi, ya rules, right. So the biggest rules to remember is don't get yourself killed, try not to get the rest of us killed, and when I tell you to run, well, I won't be around to warn you a second time. So as long as you follow those group policies, fell free to kill what needs killing, save what needs saving and break chairs when needed."
Vardi listens, her expression entirely serious now, and waits until Ori has finished speaking to reply "Understood Ser. Keeping other folk alive is wha' I have largely been trained in, including tha hustling away at speed part of tha' duty. May nay be quiet enough ta be a scout, but I am quick, and quite fond of staying in one piece myself."
The faint glitter of blue mischief in her eyes returns when she offers "I'll nay run less ye say ta run, Sergeant Ori, but I should warn ye tha' I can run for a fair while if need be. Ye may have to shout if ye need me ta stop running afore I run out of breath like."
For all her teasing, there is a flicker of approval across her face as she notes both Ori's alertness to the group's surroundings and discretion in moving away to allow others to speak.
Almeric: "I'm glad you have sense of humour, Vardi. It's essential round here!"
Vardi nods in complete agreement.
Almeric: "You've slotted right in, befriending Fahm and Ori, the two MOST discerning of people. Now let's get serious."
The big lass listens silently, her expression one of businesslike attentiveness.
Almeric: "There is always a place for such as you in my retinue. If your apprenticeship is over, and you are thinking of beginning your 'Journeying', I can offer you regular work, with an equal share of our spoils. I can access Damascus steel and the best charcoals, to enable the highest grade steel to be forged into exquisite armours. I can also be your high profile clothes horse, to display and sell your wares to my wealthy contacts."
Vardi puts a hand to her chin, giving the offer genuine consideration, but offers no reply yet as the gentleman adventurer strikes a heroic pose. She does smile though.
Almeric: "Give it some thought."
Vardi offers "That I will, Ser Almeric. I serve the king's interests, but I have it on good authority that kings are interested in just about everything. As much of what ye offer would interest him, and my bretheren smiths, so it may nay be difficult ta be given leave ta travel wi' yer troop on a more long-term basis."
Vardi maintains a friendly air as the farmer's children call out, or watch quietly, and waves in greeting to them, but does not respond further, keeping an eye out around Almeric as she slips into the role she was trained for without hesitation. It is not that she does not trust in the skills of those around her, but that she has a task to do that she knows well, and that includes keeping an eye out for trouble, even if she is not yet sure what trouble might be afoot, watching for bandits on the road seems wise.
Later, at the pine grove...
Almeric: "That's an impressive Spagenhelm you have there. Did you make that yourself? The final piece in your apprenticeship, I presume. Can I examine it?"
The shield-maiden looks at him a moment, her face expressionless, shrugs then nods in assent, and passes over the helm that has caused her so much frustration of late. Once it is in his hands she explains "It is my own handiwork, Mercian in style, with a little bit adapted from an old Selenite Empire design Ser, but Morag helped me figure out how tha catch for tha visor could held back firmly, but still be released with ease. She has a rare knack for understanding tha little mechanical parts of smithing, and I am glad tha' she does."
"It will be, when I have finished it properlike. Greater consideration is given to masterworks tha have been tested in the field, and a smith must show confidence in their own work too, but to be honest with ye ser, it has some lack in it I have nay yet been able to find. Been fair driving me mad, so I am well pleased ta be out of tha forge awhile ta riddle it out."
Almeric: "I am looking to upgrade my harness of armour to plates of shaped, interlocking metal, including gauntlets, a visored barbute and sabatons. Do you have any experience of that?"
The smith gives it a moments thought, then says "Could be done, aye, but interlocking will take longer ta build and fit. How much flexibility would ye want in the gauntlets? Always a trade off tween complexity and movement."
Almeric's eye glaze over as he discusses at length, the current styles and fashions in plate harnesses. Oblivious to his surroundings or the relevance of what he is saying, he talks about the status required to wear each style of armour, the cost and the status of the armourer requisite. Finally focussing on the styles that a lowly, landless knight as himself could wear without faux pas. This is known as Ferromaine Plate, being a natural step forward from the Lorrica Segmentata of the Legionaires. Simple, undecorated plates of steel, fixed by rivets and leather straps. The gauntlets are an unarticulated mitton style. (Google Milanes Plate Armour)
Almeric suddenly snaps back into reality after the short rest, as Cainneach and Ori are debating, possibly about whether to camp here or push on into a storm?
Cainneach marched along with the retinue, generally remaining up the road a bit with Thatch and Salt in his scouting role. There was something comfortable about resuming this role, alongside his talented friend, and, most of all, escaping the smothering confines of the castle and returning to the outdoors. He also felt compelled to keep some distance between Salt, his faithful deerhound, and the large (at least for a cat) feline that had been introduced to the party via Vardi, the very large (especially for a woman) knight that had joined the retinue. Salt was clearly very interested in this new animal and seemed inclined to investigate what this cat was all about. Salt was shaggy, this cat was fluffy; Salt barked, this cat made all variety of strange noises; Salt was a noble hound, this cat was ... really fluffy? The hound wasn't sure what to make of the situation and, frankly, neither was Cainneach. There were mountain lions, lynxes, and bobcats roaming the Pagans where he had grown up, but nothing like this skoggikatt.
Passing through low hills 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.
Five hours into the journey....
There was a small grove of pines ahead, which would give some shelter from the cold northern winds if they wished to take a spell.
They looked up at the slate grey sky threatening rain and opened a sack of bread, cheese and pickles that the kitchen staff had pressed into Oris hands as he had passed.
The land is slightly hillier here and they are slowly climbing out of the great wide river valley into the foothills of the majestic Pagans to their west.
Cainneach observes the weather conditions and ponders the wisdom of continuing onward versus sheltering until the imminent storm passes. It didn't look as though the weather would turn too harshly, so he takes his portion of provisions from Ori, chats briefly with Famh, makes a quick introduction to Vardi while trying to rein in a very enthusiastic Salt, then excuses himself and wanders around the pine grove. Stands such as these were among his favourite environments from his pre-retinue explorations: the smell of pine, especially when a storm lingers nearby, the soft bed of needles underfoot, the birdsong echoing in the canopy. Cainneach relaxes slightly, exhaling and closing his eyes. He can feel Salt unwind as well and the loyal hound sits peacefully at his side. Sleeping in this pine grove would be so much more satisfying than a dozen nobles' guest beds ... but this is not the time for sleep. He has a fiancee now and the rest of the retinue to look after.
With a long slow breath of pine-scented relief, Famh eases her arm around Cainneach and smiles as she reaches out to scratch Salt 's ears. She's half fancied the faithful deerhound casting wounded looks of silent reproach at her ever since she greeted Skoggi with such incautious enthusiasm. But if he was offended at all, he seems more than happy to accept her ear scratching (and a little tidbit of cheese that Famh 'accidentally' forgot was in her hand at a moment Cainneach was distracted from both of them) as a sufficient apology.
He can feel a deeper peace easing through her slender frame as she recovers from her excesses of the previous night. Or perhaps she simply feels now fully the depth and constancy of his love for her, and can relax at long last from her anxious need to constantly make sure her steadfast love for him would always meet the same steadying and constant response. She draws in and releases another long, slow, calming sigh and looks about the grove before turning back to him. Vardi and Sir Almeric are in the midst of a discussion she instinctively senses as shop talk between professionals and tunes out without even trying; Ori seems to be half asleep under a tree, but she knows the big man well enough by now to catch the watchful glitter of eyes under his drooping lids. Thatch is fingering something absently in his leathers. There is a thoughtful look in his eyes, a little faraway and dreamy, that she has noticed from time to time throughout the morning; and she catches the faint scent of primrose on the afternoon breeze that is just beginning to stir lazily about the grove.
And just perhaps, her concern for Thatch's health and ability to keep awake should the retinue encounter any danger, has led her to enquire of Cainneach how he slept last night and find that he wasn't sure exactly how the fellow had slept but marveled that he was able to keep a sprig of primrose cluctched in his hand the whole night without breaking it; and that at the least his dreams had brought a broad smile to his sleeping face. A secret, twinkling-eyed smile lifts the corner of Famh's mouth a moment, but when her forester laddie asks her what's amused her, she only giggles slightly before turning to him and changing the subject completely.
"Vardi seems to know what she's about as a guide, leannan. We came swift and smooth sae far. How do ye think we can best work to support her? You've been our guide AND scout ere this, so you'd know best what the guide finds helpful." As she asks this, she follows his lead and scans the surroundings about them for anything out of the ordinary.(Perception 16). "In any case, though, I think I'll talk to Ori as our sergeant ere we leave and arrange for something. That limpet stew in Karvala's tower has inspired me. I'd like to say 'thank you' for all our friends have done for us by cooking the dinner for everyone in camp tonight. And you, of course! You'd not want to marry me anymore if you thought I couldn't cook ...," she teases, trailing off into a fond chuckle.
...This is known as Ferromaine Plate, being a natural step forward from the Lorrica Segmentata of the Legionaires. Simple, undecorated plates of steel, fixed by rivets and leather straps. The gauntlets are an unarticulated mitton style. (Google Milanes Plate Armour)...
I'm coming up laank for that spelling, but there's an entry for Milanese plate, is that the one you meant?
Neither Famh or Cainneach spotted any dangers while the company rested, and by the time they were up and about again the most dangerous thing in the vicinity had turned out to be a trio of voles fighting over pine kernels.
The companions walked on passing a collapsed animal shelter in a field but Vardi knew Hightoun was not far ahead and would provide better shelter and indeed as the sun began to set they entered the small hilltop village, lodging was offered in the largest house and the owner moved into his neighbours rooms for the night. Folks offered the group produce and meat for sale and a barrel of mead for a few silver and left them to their rest.
As they had marched along the path Vardi had prescribed, Ori was noticing the onlookers staring at the group. Suprised at how much attention a handful of folks in armor marching this close to the Duke's palace was getting. Seems like this should be more common then not but maybe the common folk here were still trained enough to spot foreigner soldiers without flying banners. Ori noticed the kids especially get so still as they past by. He had a soft spot for the young ones, they were always his favorite to try and perform for. It wasn't easy for the evil bad antagonist to befriend kids at the shows but Ori always tried to find a way, never was good for a performance to have scared kids watching either. So Ori would hand out some of the leftover goods from the morning to the kids if the were close enough as the group past. He woukd look all rough and tough and then woukd give the kids his grin and wink and hold out the treat like he was doing something in secret and trying to hand it out discreetly. It didn't take long for Ori to run out but he still tried to give the other kids the wink, just to say I see you to try and make each ones day. Not all were receptive but kids will be kids.
As they rested, Ori was pestering Cainneach about pace and said Cainneach was slowing them just so they would have to be stuck out in the weather that night, and Ori was planning to have a roof and a bed on way or another. The argument was clearly in jest yet a topic to discuss still. After assurances that Vardi felt they could still reach a town by nightfall Ori found a nice peaceful spot right in the middle of everyone to lounge and lay back. The closer he was the easier it was to keep an eye on every one, plus anyone that really studied his relaxed posture would be able to see that his club is always close enough to me contact with him and handle always propped towards Ori's main hand. Ori had an image to maintain but he wasn't about to be caught without his weapon.
As they made it into town, the house that was offered to them seemed strange to Ori. Ori tried to argue with the owner that it wasn't nessiasry to kick them out of thier home. The other townsfolk seemed so generous to them as well, maybe the town knew they were there to help. Oc course if the townsfolk knew, then everyone else knew too, and knew where they were staying. Maybe it was wise for the owner to vacate. "Well Almeric, what's the plan from here? Do we have leads, or starting from nothing?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The thanks Famh bestows upon their host for the night are deep and profound. With the facilities at her disposal for producing the promised evening meal so much more elaborate than she had envisioned.
As the Dayne retinue settles into their first night's lodgings, Famh very earnestly sets about her cookery, though she does ask her stronger companions to bring her more wood from the neatly piled store under an outlying shed attached to the house. She is more than happy to do lighter carrying, though; and acquits herself (Athletics 21)ly well in the less strenuous task of gathering water. When she sets to cooking , the basically kind and generous Famh shows through in her attempt to include some element that would either appeal or pay tribute to each of her companions. Salt is the easiest in this regard, since she has a good supply of that condiment in a small wooden box carefully stowed at the bottom of her pack and does not need to deplete their host's stores. And with Cainneach, of course, the only difficulty is that so MANY things come to mind as the obvious only possible perfect kiss of flavour to bestow upon her beloved as a promissory note for many more kisses of all sorts in future ;)-. ;-* ;-D She finally settles, this time, on kicking up whatever sauce or condiment she decides on with a splash of the uisgebeaugh they shared just before rescuing Tusk together.
Sir Almeric is almost as easy as Salt, since one of the things she picked up during her time at Coburn Castle is a local recipe for herbed roast game peculiar to the very part of Baron Aldred's lands the Dayne estates form a part of. The herbs, while somewhat different in this more northerly region, share enough similarities to allow her to adapt for any remaining differences without losing the recipe's character. And since game is the easiest main course for her to procure, by the method she previously used also in the case of the herbs that were missing from the pantry (a patiently sighing Cainneach's Nature 4), she is soon able to use that recipe to prepare a very nice shoulder of venison from the small but well-fed roe deer which is the most commonly encountered game animal throughout most of north coastal Thuland until the rising elevations of the Pagans make the terrain more suitable for mountain goats, wild sheep and rams. And with his Help she dresses and bones the roast of game most (Acrobatics(knife skills) 23)ly. If the deer are mean and elude even her Cainneach, she will suborn Salt with a promise of a slice slipped to him while Cainneach isn't looking (Salt's Perception ) rather than give up a menu whose remaining elements are already beginning to take shape in her mind.
She was at a bit of a loss at first about Thatch, since she wants to acknowledge each Albishman in the retinue just as individually as anyone else, and doesn't know as much about him as some of the others. Unfortunately for him ( ;-) ), she has come across a primrose in her herb gathering. And being an observant young woman who is particularly sensitized to such things at the moment, she has gradually become aware throughout the day's chill but still perspiration-raising march of a few things about Thatch . Specifically, the scent of primrose that still seems to linger in the air for a few moments after he has passed; and the bemused, dreamy look that still occasionally steals across his face.
After a mighty struggle lasting a full thirty seconds, her mischievous side gets the better of her: she teases the starry-eyed groom by concealing the petals in her hand as she carves and sprinkling them on his portion before handing it to him with a grin and a wink. "I couldna think o' the right seasoning for yours at first, Thatch, but at last I happened to remember an herb that's said to bring sweet dreams." And later, after the others' attention has drifted to other subjects, she whispers to him, "Sly fellow as ye are, tryin' to cut in and dance wi' ME at my and Cainneach's engagement dinner I think ye must have made somebody else just the weest little bit jealous too. Och, ye're a lost man now, Thatch, we Thulishwomen are legendary for getting the fellow we want when once we've chosen him ... " Then she returns to Cainneach and whispers to HIM, "He wanted to marry me too, but I've convinced him at last that ye're the first and only in my heart. I was just suggestin' to him that I have a wee suspicion there's an OTHER lady who'd appreciate his courtship more." Since the two are sitting together by the fire at this point discussing how they as the retinue's traditional scouts can work together with Vardi as Sir Almeric's chosen guide to ease the next day's travel, and since she's teasing with both of them, she doesn't even bother being too assiduous about ensuring that either man can't hear the whisper directed towards the other.
Vardi, strangely enough, proves to be the most difficult of all for her to find something for. But it's not because she doesn't have an ingredient in mind. Though she has only just met the warrior smith, and under normal circumstances would have no idea what she liked to eat, the haste with which Vardi had to eat her oatcakes -- 'on the run' as it were -- that morning left a small dab of lingonberry jam on her upper lip till she'd noticed and wiped it away. The trouble is, the retinue is only just now coming into the extreme southern range where this berry ... originally native to the tundras of far northern Krarth and Mercania ... can grow. She definitely needs both her own and Cainneach's hands and eyes plus Salt's keen nose, to find her main ingredient for the thick sauce she serves as a relish. As she does not know enough about the Mercanian faiths to know whether Vardi's goddess permits her to eat flesh, and was in no condition the evening before to even notice what she HERSELF was eating half the time, she bakes a hearty bread from whatever grains, nuts and seeds are available (or to be found in the party's rations). She thickens and sweetens a small portion of the sauce until it can be spread on the bread, and throws in some apple parings as the closest approach to proper jam she can devise in field conditions, as it were. And she makes enough of these things that all can eat the bread with extra over for any who don't eat the game to take double helps.
And Ori?
Ori always has been a bit of a puzzle to Famh, from the earliest days when she only knew him as the big silent fellow who worked for his board at Farmer Gorman's as she did for Widow Mavis. Even then she had instinctively liked him, sensing his generally easygoing nature and kind, generous heart. But she also sensed he is a very private man who might be uncomfortable with anyone but his most trusted companions knowing too much about him. She wishes there were some more personal tribute she could give him than to go through the pastry nibbles she saved from breakfast and and pick out the ones she remembers him eating the most of. These she gives him, with fresh additions of similar kind from Hightoun, atop the bowl of sliced baked apples she has sweetened with honey for a dessert. And her only tease in that direction is a small cup of the lingonberry sauce she tucks inunobtrusively among the apple slices. She uses her minor illusion at the moment he picks this up to create a soft whisper just beside his ear so only he can hear it, which trails away meaningfully at the end. "Eat hearty tonight, Ori. You might need to recruit your strength soon for ... well, who knows what things Gatanades will bring about tomorrow? Or Aengus, for that matter ... *giggle* ... "
All in all, she considers it a most successful dinner, whatever others might think of the actual FOOD (Performance [cooking] 13). It has given her the opportunity to advance her secret plan for world domination through the multiplication of couples on at least two fronts; and with that, Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich is well content. Because while she might not actually desire world domination, and isn't quite sure what she'd DO with the world if she actually got it anyway, at the very least she is determined that she and Cainneach aren't going to be the only couple among their particular and rather peculiar set of friends.
=========
((OOC: OK, problem IDed. Messed up on the minor illusion spell ... aI pasted in not the raw code to link to that spell, but the PROCESSED RESULT after that had already been done ... so the site was trying to redo it AGAIN and messed everything up.
Allowing himself to relax, Almeric ensures the villagers are compensated handsomely in silver (double rates) for their hospitality and the valuable ingredients Famh may have used to prepare their meal. This was winter and any freah meat would be at a premium here.
The knight is a little confused that Famh still hasn't got to grips with the feudal system fully. Without thought, the villagers acknowledged their responsibility to their lord, to offer hospitality to a travelling knight, giving their biggest cottage and best victuals. This is reciprocated with grace and generosity from the travelling knight to the villagers. Everything was in balance, as it should be, with nothing to be suspicious about.
Almeric will recount everything he knows about the mission to Ori, which is not too much. Farmsteads in Marrowglen being attacked, Crofters and cattle missing, the Sheriff out of his depth. The Dayne Retinue is to provide the solution to this problem? What could possibly go wrong!
(Okay, it's roll-o-rama time! Just for fun, as I'm sure IC Cainneach would masterfully carry off each of these tasks with nary a hiccup.)
Survival18 (weather forecasting for Ori) Investigation11 (foraging for Famh's feast) Nature8 (identifying ingredients for Famh's feast) Survival22 (tracking a deer for Famh's feast) Longbow - Attack vs. DEER: 16, damage (piercing): 10 (hunting the deer w/HELP from Salt) Survival15 (discussing the trail ahead w/Vardi and Thatch) Insight18 (what's up w/these overly deferential townspeople? Suspicious ...) Perception12 (Cainneach observing any threats) Perception14 (Salt sniffing out any threats)
Vardi, after she emerges from a deeply satisfying discussion of the evolution of personal protection over the centuries with Ser Almeric, becomes aware that her cheese and pickle sandwich seems to be a mite short on cheese. Skoggi sits next to her on the dry fallen pine needles, washing his forepaws with an air of complete innocence, marred only by the fragments of cheese still just visible on his lips.
The blond woman looks from sandwich to cat and back again, shrugs then mutters "Din skurk!" in a tone of annoyed affection.
Vardi sighs quietly and concedes "Better tha' than having ta track ye ta halfway down a rabbit hole again." as she ferrets out a small waxed leather sack from her belongings and places a handful of faintly fishy-smelling dry pellets in a grey stoneware dish in front of Skoggi. Moments later there is nothing left in the bowl, and Vardi pours a few spoonfuls of water from her skin into it.
The big lass silently gathers her thoughts, no easy task as they are like a pack of particularly frisky goats today, awhirl with future possibilities, the novelty of new comrades from places she has never been, and giddy with the sheer excitement of escaping the castle smithy's routine for a while, even if she already misses Morag's cheerful chatter. Duty and curiosity vie for the mission's nebulous aim, worrying at the nature of the trouble that assails Marrowglen's folk, made more ominous by being an unknown quantity. Only one thought sits still, central and silent, the eye in the storm of her mind, a helm that holds a riddle she cannot answer, a mysterious smile on a bronze face that seemingly mocks her efforts to complete it to her own satisfaction.
I will unravel yer riddle, and I will finish ye properlike, but nay right this moment... she silently promises the helm as she places it back on her head and buckles up for the march. Well, a brisk saunter at least, as she carefully matches her stride to the other folk of the Retinue's speed as they make for Hightoun before nightfall. Even with a head full of whirling thoughts, the comfort of performing the other role she has trained so diligently in, to be a shield maiden, defender of the People, the Land and the Crown, more than just an oversized warning of the King's long-reaching authority standing behind a fancy chair all day.
Vardi offers Skoggi a stretched-out arm as a ladder from the ground. He promptly climbs up it, and assumes his usual perch on her shoulder, watching for trouble on high (And small tasty rodents on low, though preferably not voles, whose flavor is not quite to the gentleman rascal's now castle-trained taste.) while his devoted mistress studies the other company she is now keeping.
Irregulars, tha lot of them, but so am I, a shieldmaid of unusual size, so where do I fit? she thinks to herself Nay a light-footed scout, like Thatch orCainneach, and Ori's a sharp pair of eyes too, but tha big fella is also keeping things running, getting tha food sorted afore we left, that's smart thinking, different kind of scouting ahead and kind for a prickly tempered man...
Ser Almeric may call himself a clothes horse, but there's more going on in his noggin than wood, that's for sure! Got his work cut out keeping his troop happy and his Baron too though. Cannay be easy, for a man with ambitions ta be more than just a humble knight ta polish rough diamonds, even if he knows he has precious gems in his grasp wi' a bit of patience. Famh sees more than she lets on, I reckon, nay daft, but too clever ta be Mistress Sensible all tha time, quick of both limb and wit. Nay one to cross in romance either, for she has tha she-goat eye on her for keeping track of her beloved, and her fine hound Salt as well, not a lady born but nay a serf manners either...
When the good-natured chaffing between Cainneach and Ori becomes loud enough to disturb her musings, Vardi offers the knowledge that Hightoun is a hike uphill, but close enough to reach before dark as reassurance that there is time enough to walk rather than quick-march there. A troubling thought occurs to her as she enjoys the sight of Ori in a relaxed pose, admiring the forest and at peace in it, but she pushes it to the back of her mind for the while, unwilling to disturb the gentle mood within the pine glade.
Later, in Hightoun...
Vardi bends down a little and whispers in Ori's ear "Please, never refuse what they offer, Ser! Twill bring bad feeling among tha locals if ye do. Nay stick a knife in their pride, eh? They're already asking for our help. Dinnay turn down theirs."
When the whirlwind that is Famh in the kitchen hits, the big lass offers what assistance she can without getting in the path of a force of culinary nature, and keeps an eye on Skoggi, who has his eyes already on the prize of fresh venison.
When Vardi sees Ori and Almeric deep in talk, seemingly of serious nature, her curious ears play the rascal on her again, but as a result, she politely approaches the two men and offers "Ye recall tha' asked me about the big man hereabout afore Ser Almeric? I can tell ye a little, in tha' I have seen Ser Robert in the flesh, but from a distance more respectful than given ta fine detail. I have heard little of him in passing, which some might say speaks well of him to have so little gossip about him, particularly as he's the one dealing with the troublemakers from town, rather than putting in tha stocks or dungeon cells."
The big lass looks less confident as she fiddles with a plait end and chooses her next words with care "My last point is an assumption, nay a known fact, but this is border country Ser. Nay always a peaceful border either. If the Duke has let Ser Robert in charge here for a fair while, then he's a fighting laird, and one who has defended this place successfully afore. Men like that don't ask for aid from their laird wi'out good reason. If we're dealing with raiders at work, then they're nay the usual sort."
When Vardi sees Ori and Almeric deep in talk, seemingly of serious nature, her curious ears play the rascal on her again, but as a result, she politely approaches the two men and offers "Ye recall tha' asked me about the big man hereabout afore Ser Almeric? I can tell ye a little, in tha' I have seen Ser Robert in the flesh, but from a distance more respectful than given ta fine detail. I have heard little of him in passing, which some might say speaks well of him to have so little gossip about him, particularly as he's the one dealing with the troublemakers from town, rather than putting in tha stocks or dungeon cells."
The big lass looks less confident as she fiddles with a plait end and chooses her next words with care "My last point is an assumption, nay a known fact, but this is border country Ser. Nay always a peaceful border either. If the Duke has let Ser Robert in charge here for a fair while, then he's a fighting laird, and one who has defended this place successfully afore. Men like that don't ask for aid from their laird wi'out good reason. If we're dealing with raiders at work, then they're nay the usual sort."
Relaxing in the cottage after the delicious meal created by Famh, Almeric is updating Ori on the mission when Vardi adds knowledge and wisdom to the conversation. "Thank you Vardi, for the advice. Sir Robert Brunn, the Sheriff of Marrowglen, seems to have the reputation of a respected and efficient law enforcer. Perhaps the lack of rumours about him suggests a 'linear' leadership style? You know what they say Vardi, when you're a hammer, every problem is a nail." he chuckles "Officers like this can be very efficient when performing routine duties, but often lack the imagination to adapt to complex situation. Clearly, this situation cannot be resolved with steel alone, but never fear. Complex situations is the Dayne Retinue speciality. The supernatural, the infernal, the undead, we've dealt with it all. So when the fighting starts, I'd like you by my side, shields locked and nothing will get past us. If you have any questions Vardi, now is the time."
Almeric grins and stands, raising his hands in supplication to all. "Pray lend me your ears friends. Our reason for being in Beltayne is not secret, but is very discrete and I want to keep it that way. 'Officially' we are seconded to the Duke's Household, I have a letter to prove it and anything else about us is strictly need to know. We will set watches as normal and rise at dawn. Be prepared for anything from here.
Famh listens seriously to Sir Almeric's briefing, though she seems a little sleepy. She nods at the end and seems about to turn away when something occurs to her. "This mission we're on for the Duke ... how open is that? Will the folk here besides this Sir Robert know why we've been sent?"
"And I'm wondering the same thing Vardiis. I fear it might be too much more complex to be mortal raiders at all. We may have dealt with the eldritch things of the world afore, but that doesn't mean we have to like it."
With full stomachs and accomplishments aplenty the companions doss down for the night, the cottage is one large room so they all find space on the floor with the owners cot being taken by Salt and Skoggi so they can keep a serious eye over their human charges.
Thatch and Ori take first watch, Vardi and Famh second and Cainneach and Almeric third.....it is in the early hours of the morning that Salt sits up and Cainneach follows his line of sight hearing the tell-tale clink of metal tack on the road through the village, the riders whoever they are do not stop but continue riding through without stopping....
A few hours later sunlight begins to crest over the hills and roosters crowed along with ptarmigan and capercaillie across the hills.
Ori simply gives a rough grunt at Vardi's comments about just accepting the offering of the people. He knew this game, the one with the most has the honor to allow the distinguished guessed take the accommodations. What the rest don't see is the hefty payment that one gets as well as the prestige that comes with it. The rich get richer simply because they had the most already. But Ori wasn't about to make much of a stink over something he couldn't possibly change, didn't mean he had to like partaking.
Famh was going above and beyond trying to cook and do some special dishes for each of them. Ori certainly appreciated the effort but didn't feel Famh needed to go out of her way with all this. The pastry she handed Ori did look pretty tempting, as he picked it up towards his mouth he whispers in his ear from Famh. Before taking a bite he turned toward her, knowing she was watching and held the pastry up a little higher to signal his reception of the words. As Famh moved away, Ori looked at the baked good puzzled. He hadn't taken a bite before hearing Famhs whispers but it had practically been in his mouth. Nope, not taking any chances. He wrapped it up and stuffed it away for later. Maybe I'll be more willing to have whispers in my head later.
Talking with Almeric about what mission they were on and how little they had to go on. Ori figured they were going to have to some information gathering, it was going to be hard to get information out of these folks without making it obvious what they were up to. Most probably could guess, but Ori didn't feel they needed to broadcast their intentions yet. As Vardi entered the conversation, Ori observed how she worked with Almeric. Should have made her Sargent! "Oi mates best turn in, got another early morning ahead of the lot of ya. I'll take first watch with Thatch."
Watching out a window in the comon area of the manor they are residing in, Ori tosses the pastry over to Thatch. "So mate, how did you end up here? Must be a pretty good tale of stables to high tables."
Almeric: "Thank you Vardi, for the advice. Sir Robert Brunn, the Sheriff of Marrowglen, seems to have the reputation of a respected and efficient law enforcer. Perhaps the lack of rumours about him suggests a 'linear' leadership style? You know what they say Vardi, when you're a hammer, every problem is a nail."
Vardi looks expressionless for a moment, then a smile crosses her face as she offers "Some nails are trickier than others, ser."
Almeric: "Officers like this can be very efficient when performing routine duties, but often lack the imagination to adapt to complex situation. Clearly, this situation cannot be resolved with steel alone, but never fear. Complex situations is the Dayne Retinue speciality. The supernatural, the infernal, the undead, we've dealt with it all. So when the fighting starts, I'd like you by my side, shields locked and nothing will get past us. If you have any questions Vardi, now is the time."
The big lass thinks a moment then says calmly "I undertook to protect tha Crown, tha Land and tha People of Thurland, Ser. Ye have my shield and my hammer at yer service in this matter, be it a man, a beast or something else entirely behind it. That means many questions, nay a few, so I will ask only one for now and save tha rest for later."
Vardi spreads her great hands wide and asks "If tha big man hereabouts nay knows what he's dealing wi' exactly, which seems likely, where do we begin in finding out more?"
She listens carefully to the discussion, aware that the lore of the Lyften Isles she knows may not be the same as Mainlander lore, but may yet prove useful if a common thread can be found in the weave of both. The warrior woman pays particular attention to Famh's point, both in caution to herself and in a growing admiration that Almeric's Irregulars are indeed more than they seem on cursory inspection.
Ori: "Oi mates best turn in, got another early morning ahead of the lot of ya. I'll take first watch with Thatch."
"Aye, Ser, understood." the big lass replies solidly then murmurs "No dancing tonight, Sarge? Ah well, there'll be other nights..." with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
Later, on middle watch...
Come middle watch, Vardi piles a little more wood on the fire, having found the axe and logs outside before dusk, pats Skoggi in passing, and says quietly to Famh "Thank ye for yer advice tha other night, Lady Famh. Ye were right, sometimes ye do have ta be a little forward ta get ahead."
She smiles and adds "I'm nay much good wi' talking ta people who nay know me, and most folk are a bit nervous of me at first, but ye have made me feel right welcome here."
Almeric double takes at Famh's questions, lips slightly parted. It did not matter how often she did this, and it did not help that he knew she meant well, it was still a constant challenge. Questions were fine and relevant most of the time. It did not help to point things out, without offering some solutions though. Would Almeric have to explain everything again about how he hoped things would work? He knew they were overdue a proper debrief about their previous mission, but not now?
At dawn, during breakfast, Almeric shares his thoughts with the others. "In the earnest aim of succeeding in this mission, I'll say this. There is often strength and authority in not saying anything, when asked unanswerable questions by others. Better it is to say nothing, nod sagely, stroke beards or look stoic, than speak and reveal your ignorance. Sir Robert may be in this situation. It is likely he knows, or suspects what is going on, but won't speak of it openly and reveal his inability to deal with it. I will talk with Sir Robert directly, soldier to soldier, and determine what he knows and how we can help. He could be very resourceful, just lacking in our expertise? You may have doubts, be frightened or unsure, but have faith. All things shall be revealed to us in good time, by the Grace of The Saviour."
Almeric had hoped to avoid going further, not until they had a chance to discuss events occurring at the Temple of the Blue Moon. Time, his overbearing master, has caught up with him once again and removed options. If in doubt, advance' for 'Who Dares, Wins!' "You know I hate to give orders, but if this is too cryptic or evasive for anyone, I'll add this. We will not be discussing anything with anyone outside of this circle of trust. We will not be explaining ourselves or our actions to anyone. We will not be showing ignorance or weakness to the very people we have been sent to help. This includes public outbursts of doubt or expressions of fear, overt or invasive questioning or any behaviours that challenge the feudal order. It is very important that we present unity and strength and inspire faith in others. To fail in these behaviours could instil panic into a delicate situation and bring further loss of life."
Almeric does his best to soften his posture, facial expression and tone of voice to empathise with everyone in the room. "Think of the farmers of Marrowglen. These people are frightened. They have lost family and friends and seek the reassurance of their Duke. Their Sheriff is out of ideas and they may feel hopeless. We can calm their fears, show stability, give them strength and fortitude through our resolve, meeting this situation, whatever is it, and bring them hope. We have faced impossible situations before and prevailed, so I ask you all to be confident and resolute in your actions. Do your jobs, do then well. Don't get killed. Don't get anyone else killed."
Nodding to Vardi, "We have our first lead now, thanks to Cainneach. We will track the riders that passed us this morning. I'm sure they will take us close to Marrowglen and if not, we can reassesson the road. Will luck it will be Sir Robert and his deputies. With Divine Guidance, it may even be those responsible!"
Famh nods. "That's why I wanted to ask you now, in private. So I'd understand what you wished us to keep among ourselves, and what face you wished in public. I didna mean to anger ye."
"But since we're in private here, I do have a question. I wasna sure thanking the fellow who gave up his house to us was questioning the order. Ought I not have? I was thinking he might still be a a freeman ... perhaps the farrier, or a wealthy farmer ... and would be owed more courtesy even by his own lord than simply to be turned out of his home with only silver for thanks. And even if he were but a cottar, he did his duty graciously rather than be sullen. So I didn't mean to question his response so much as to give a full measure of courtesy for his courtesy, over and above what he was legally due."
(Sorry, it's been one of those weeks. After today I should get back to my usual posting style.)
Cainneach passed the third watch dutifully and attentively. He didn't make any attempt to engage Almeric in conversation and wondered why the Capellar elected to take this shift. The two didn't have the best relationship and a watch was no time to make small talk or bond. Was he here to babysit? The Capellar should know that someone who had spent years surviving in the wilds of Thuland and Albion wouldn't let their guard down for a moment. And so Cainneach didn't. Didn't speak, didn't stir, just stood, looked, and listened. Fortunately, this focus was rewarded when at some ungodly hour of the early morn both he and Salt detected the sound of riders approaching, then passing through the town. Cainneach was jealous of his hound's keen senses, but knew that the gods had given humans many other advantages and that he should merely be grateful to have such a useful companion. Cainneach glanced over to Almeric and raised his eyebrows, then pointed in the direction of the sound. Almeric acknowledged, but didn't indicate that they should pursue them at the moment. That suited Cainneach just fine, though he was curious who would be up and about this early.
(@Damian_May, did Cainneach notice any details regarding the riders, such as the number, their pace, were they accompanied by any carts, were the horses heavy warhorses or more typical riding horses? And you mentioned metal tack, but did you mean armoured barding, or merely that the horses were shoed and/or the rider's gear rattled around a bit? Happy to roll if requested.)
Come morning, after the shift was over, Cainneach takes a moment to relay his full observations, whatever they may be, to Almeric. He leaves any further discussion for the whole group. It seemed that at least Almeric and Vardi had a better idea of what was going on than he did. Cainneach inquires with Famh as to how her night passed and if she came across anything noteworthy during her watch. If there is an opportunity for discretion, he also asks her how Vardi was getting along, given the eclectic nature of the retinue and Almeric's idiosyncratic leadership.
During Almeric's monologue, Cainneach experiences his obligatory inward groans at any mentions of religion and the "feudal order". In his mind, he imagines leading these poor peasants of Hightoun off into the wilderness, to freedom from the shackles of said order. Unknowingly echoing Ori's sentiments regarding their accommodations, Cainneach can only think of what an unfair construct this all is. He'd somehow been lucky enough to be free of it for sufficiently long to understand that, then to wind up in a safe strata in society with this odd group and their particular skills. Realizing that his mind had wandered, Cainneach snaps back to attention when his name is mentioned and sagely nods in agreement. Yes, let's track them. From what he heard last night, it should be simple enough.
Ori: "Oi, ya rules, right. So the biggest rules to remember is don't get yourself killed, try not to get the rest of us killed, and when I tell you to run, well, I won't be around to warn you a second time. So as long as you follow those group policies, fell free to kill what needs killing, save what needs saving and break chairs when needed."
Vardi listens, her expression entirely serious now, and waits until Ori has finished speaking to reply "Understood Ser. Keeping other folk alive is wha' I have largely been trained in, including tha hustling away at speed part of tha' duty. May nay be quiet enough ta be a scout, but I am quick, and quite fond of staying in one piece myself."
The faint glitter of blue mischief in her eyes returns when she offers "I'll nay run less ye say ta run, Sergeant Ori, but I should warn ye tha' I can run for a fair while if need be. Ye may have to shout if ye need me ta stop running afore I run out of breath like."
For all her teasing, there is a flicker of approval across her face as she notes both Ori's alertness to the group's surroundings and discretion in moving away to allow others to speak.
Almeric: "I'm glad you have sense of humour, Vardi. It's essential round here!"
Vardi nods in complete agreement.
Almeric: "You've slotted right in, befriending Fahm and Ori, the two MOST discerning of people. Now let's get serious."
The big lass listens silently, her expression one of businesslike attentiveness.
Almeric: "There is always a place for such as you in my retinue. If your apprenticeship is over, and you are thinking of beginning your 'Journeying', I can offer you regular work, with an equal share of our spoils. I can access Damascus steel and the best charcoals, to enable the highest grade steel to be forged into exquisite armours. I can also be your high profile clothes horse, to display and sell your wares to my wealthy contacts."
Vardi puts a hand to her chin, giving the offer genuine consideration, but offers no reply yet as the gentleman adventurer strikes a heroic pose. She does smile though.
Almeric: "Give it some thought."
Vardi offers "That I will, Ser Almeric. I serve the king's interests, but I have it on good authority that kings are interested in just about everything. As much of what ye offer would interest him, and my bretheren smiths, so it may nay be difficult ta be given leave ta travel wi' yer troop on a more long-term basis."
Vardi maintains a friendly air as the farmer's children call out, or watch quietly, and waves in greeting to them, but does not respond further, keeping an eye out around Almeric as she slips into the role she was trained for without hesitation. It is not that she does not trust in the skills of those around her, but that she has a task to do that she knows well, and that includes keeping an eye out for trouble, even if she is not yet sure what trouble might be afoot, watching for bandits on the road seems wise.
Later, at the pine grove...
Almeric: "That's an impressive Spagenhelm you have there. Did you make that yourself? The final piece in your apprenticeship, I presume. Can I examine it?"
The shield-maiden looks at him a moment, her face expressionless, shrugs then nods in assent, and passes over the helm that has caused her so much frustration of late. Once it is in his hands she explains "It is my own handiwork, Mercian in style, with a little bit adapted from an old Selenite Empire design Ser, but Morag helped me figure out how tha catch for tha visor could held back firmly, but still be released with ease. She has a rare knack for understanding tha little mechanical parts of smithing, and I am glad tha' she does."
"It will be, when I have finished it properlike. Greater consideration is given to masterworks tha have been tested in the field, and a smith must show confidence in their own work too, but to be honest with ye ser, it has some lack in it I have nay yet been able to find. Been fair driving me mad, so I am well pleased ta be out of tha forge awhile ta riddle it out."
Almeric: "I am looking to upgrade my harness of armour to plates of shaped, interlocking metal, including gauntlets, a visored barbute and sabatons. Do you have any experience of that?"
The smith gives it a moments thought, then says "Could be done, aye, but interlocking will take longer ta build and fit. How much flexibility would ye want in the gauntlets? Always a trade off tween complexity and movement."
Almeric's eye glaze over as he discusses at length, the current styles and fashions in plate harnesses. Oblivious to his surroundings or the relevance of what he is saying, he talks about the status required to wear each style of armour, the cost and the status of the armourer requisite. Finally focussing on the styles that a lowly, landless knight as himself could wear without faux pas. This is known as Ferromaine Plate, being a natural step forward from the Lorrica Segmentata of the Legionaires. Simple, undecorated plates of steel, fixed by rivets and leather straps. The gauntlets are an unarticulated mitton style. (Google Milanes Plate Armour)
Almeric suddenly snaps back into reality after the short rest, as Cainneach and Ori are debating, possibly about whether to camp here or push on into a storm?
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
I'm coming up laank for that spelling, but there's an entry for Milanese plate, is that the one you meant?
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
Neither Famh or Cainneach spotted any dangers while the company rested, and by the time they were up and about again the most dangerous thing in the vicinity had turned out to be a trio of voles fighting over pine kernels.
The companions walked on passing a collapsed animal shelter in a field but Vardi knew Hightoun was not far ahead and would provide better shelter and indeed as the sun began to set they entered the small hilltop village, lodging was offered in the largest house and the owner moved into his neighbours rooms for the night. Folks offered the group produce and meat for sale and a barrel of mead for a few silver and left them to their rest.
As they had marched along the path Vardi had prescribed, Ori was noticing the onlookers staring at the group. Suprised at how much attention a handful of folks in armor marching this close to the Duke's palace was getting. Seems like this should be more common then not but maybe the common folk here were still trained enough to spot foreigner soldiers without flying banners. Ori noticed the kids especially get so still as they past by. He had a soft spot for the young ones, they were always his favorite to try and perform for. It wasn't easy for the evil bad antagonist to befriend kids at the shows but Ori always tried to find a way, never was good for a performance to have scared kids watching either. So Ori would hand out some of the leftover goods from the morning to the kids if the were close enough as the group past. He woukd look all rough and tough and then woukd give the kids his grin and wink and hold out the treat like he was doing something in secret and trying to hand it out discreetly. It didn't take long for Ori to run out but he still tried to give the other kids the wink, just to say I see you to try and make each ones day. Not all were receptive but kids will be kids.
As they rested, Ori was pestering Cainneach about pace and said Cainneach was slowing them just so they would have to be stuck out in the weather that night, and Ori was planning to have a roof and a bed on way or another. The argument was clearly in jest yet a topic to discuss still. After assurances that Vardi felt they could still reach a town by nightfall Ori found a nice peaceful spot right in the middle of everyone to lounge and lay back. The closer he was the easier it was to keep an eye on every one, plus anyone that really studied his relaxed posture would be able to see that his club is always close enough to me contact with him and handle always propped towards Ori's main hand. Ori had an image to maintain but he wasn't about to be caught without his weapon.
As they made it into town, the house that was offered to them seemed strange to Ori. Ori tried to argue with the owner that it wasn't nessiasry to kick them out of thier home. The other townsfolk seemed so generous to them as well, maybe the town knew they were there to help. Oc course if the townsfolk knew, then everyone else knew too, and knew where they were staying. Maybe it was wise for the owner to vacate. "Well Almeric, what's the plan from here? Do we have leads, or starting from nothing?"
EDIT: many thanks all for the assist.
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 thanks Famh bestows upon their host for the night are deep and profound. With the facilities at her disposal for producing the promised evening meal so much more elaborate than she had envisioned.
As the Dayne retinue settles into their first night's lodgings, Famh very earnestly sets about her cookery, though she does ask her stronger companions to bring her more wood from the neatly piled store under an outlying shed attached to the house. She is more than happy to do lighter carrying, though; and acquits herself (Athletics 21)ly well in the less strenuous task of gathering water. When she sets to cooking , the basically kind and generous Famh shows through in her attempt to include some element that would either appeal or pay tribute to each of her companions. Salt is the easiest in this regard, since she has a good supply of that condiment in a small wooden box carefully stowed at the bottom of her pack and does not need to deplete their host's stores. And with Cainneach, of course, the only difficulty is that so MANY things come to mind as the obvious only possible perfect kiss of flavour to bestow upon her beloved as a promissory note for many more kisses of all sorts in future ;)-. ;-* ;-D She finally settles, this time, on kicking up whatever sauce or condiment she decides on with a splash of the uisgebeaugh they shared just before rescuing Tusk together.
Sir Almeric is almost as easy as Salt, since one of the things she picked up during her time at Coburn Castle is a local recipe for herbed roast game peculiar to the very part of Baron Aldred's lands the Dayne estates form a part of. The herbs, while somewhat different in this more northerly region, share enough similarities to allow her to adapt for any remaining differences without losing the recipe's character. And since game is the easiest main course for her to procure, by the method she previously used also in the case of the herbs that were missing from the pantry (a patiently sighing Cainneach's Nature 4), she is soon able to use that recipe to prepare a very nice shoulder of venison from the small but well-fed roe deer which is the most commonly encountered game animal throughout most of north coastal Thuland until the rising elevations of the Pagans make the terrain more suitable for mountain goats, wild sheep and rams. And with his Help she dresses and bones the roast of game most (Acrobatics(knife skills) 23)ly. If the deer are mean and elude even her Cainneach, she will suborn Salt with a promise of a slice slipped to him while Cainneach isn't looking (Salt's Perception ) rather than give up a menu whose remaining elements are already beginning to take shape in her mind.
She was at a bit of a loss at first about Thatch, since she wants to acknowledge each Albishman in the retinue just as individually as anyone else, and doesn't know as much about him as some of the others. Unfortunately for him ( ;-) ), she has come across a primrose in her herb gathering. And being an observant young woman who is particularly sensitized to such things at the moment, she has gradually become aware throughout the day's chill but still perspiration-raising march of a few things about Thatch . Specifically, the scent of primrose that still seems to linger in the air for a few moments after he has passed; and the bemused, dreamy look that still occasionally steals across his face.
After a mighty struggle lasting a full thirty seconds, her mischievous side gets the better of her: she teases the starry-eyed groom by concealing the petals in her hand as she carves and sprinkling them on his portion before handing it to him with a grin and a wink. "I couldna think o' the right seasoning for yours at first, Thatch, but at last I happened to remember an herb that's said to bring sweet dreams." And later, after the others' attention has drifted to other subjects, she whispers to him, "Sly fellow as ye are, tryin' to cut in and dance wi' ME at my and Cainneach's engagement dinner I think ye must have made somebody else just the weest little bit jealous too. Och, ye're a lost man now, Thatch, we Thulishwomen are legendary for getting the fellow we want when once we've chosen him ... " Then she returns to Cainneach and whispers to HIM, "He wanted to marry me too, but I've convinced him at last that ye're the first and only in my heart. I was just suggestin' to him that I have a wee suspicion there's an OTHER lady who'd appreciate his courtship more." Since the two are sitting together by the fire at this point discussing how they as the retinue's traditional scouts can work together with Vardi as Sir Almeric's chosen guide to ease the next day's travel, and since she's teasing with both of them, she doesn't even bother being too assiduous about ensuring that either man can't hear the whisper directed towards the other.
Vardi, strangely enough, proves to be the most difficult of all for her to find something for. But it's not because she doesn't have an ingredient in mind. Though she has only just met the warrior smith, and under normal circumstances would have no idea what she liked to eat, the haste with which Vardi had to eat her oatcakes -- 'on the run' as it were -- that morning left a small dab of lingonberry jam on her upper lip till she'd noticed and wiped it away. The trouble is, the retinue is only just now coming into the extreme southern range where this berry ... originally native to the tundras of far northern Krarth and Mercania ... can grow. She definitely needs both her own and Cainneach's hands and eyes plus Salt's keen nose, to find her main ingredient for the thick sauce she serves as a relish. As she does not know enough about the Mercanian faiths to know whether Vardi's goddess permits her to eat flesh, and was in no condition the evening before to even notice what she HERSELF was eating half the time, she bakes a hearty bread from whatever grains, nuts and seeds are available (or to be found in the party's rations). She thickens and sweetens a small portion of the sauce until it can be spread on the bread, and throws in some apple parings as the closest approach to proper jam she can devise in field conditions, as it were. And she makes enough of these things that all can eat the bread with extra over for any who don't eat the game to take double helps.
And Ori?
Ori always has been a bit of a puzzle to Famh, from the earliest days when she only knew him as the big silent fellow who worked for his board at Farmer Gorman's as she did for Widow Mavis. Even then she had instinctively liked him, sensing his generally easygoing nature and kind, generous heart. But she also sensed he is a very private man who might be uncomfortable with anyone but his most trusted companions knowing too much about him. She wishes there were some more personal tribute she could give him than to go through the pastry nibbles she saved from breakfast and and pick out the ones she remembers him eating the most of. These she gives him, with fresh additions of similar kind from Hightoun, atop the bowl of sliced baked apples she has sweetened with honey for a dessert. And her only tease in that direction is a small cup of the lingonberry sauce she tucks inunobtrusively among the apple slices. She uses her minor illusion at the moment he picks this up to create a soft whisper just beside his ear so only he can hear it, which trails away meaningfully at the end. "Eat hearty tonight, Ori. You might need to recruit your strength soon for ... well, who knows what things Gatanades will bring about tomorrow? Or Aengus, for that matter ... *giggle* ... "
All in all, she considers it a most successful dinner, whatever others might think of the actual FOOD (Performance [cooking] 13). It has given her the opportunity to advance her secret plan for world domination through the multiplication of couples on at least two fronts; and with that, Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich is well content. Because while she might not actually desire world domination, and isn't quite sure what she'd DO with the world if she actually got it anyway, at the very least she is determined that she and Cainneach aren't going to be the only couple among their particular and rather peculiar set of friends.
=========
((OOC: OK, problem IDed. Messed up on the minor illusion spell ... aI pasted in not the raw code to link to that spell, but the PROCESSED RESULT after that had already been done ... so the site was trying to redo it AGAIN and messed everything up.
*blush* oopsie ...
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
Allowing himself to relax, Almeric ensures the villagers are compensated handsomely in silver (double rates) for their hospitality and the valuable ingredients Famh may have used to prepare their meal. This was winter and any freah meat would be at a premium here.
The knight is a little confused that Famh still hasn't got to grips with the feudal system fully. Without thought, the villagers acknowledged their responsibility to their lord, to offer hospitality to a travelling knight, giving their biggest cottage and best victuals. This is reciprocated with grace and generosity from the travelling knight to the villagers. Everything was in balance, as it should be, with nothing to be suspicious about.
Almeric will recount everything he knows about the mission to Ori, which is not too much. Farmsteads in Marrowglen being attacked, Crofters and cattle missing, the Sheriff out of his depth. The Dayne Retinue is to provide the solution to this problem? What could possibly go wrong!
(Okay, it's roll-o-rama time! Just for fun, as I'm sure IC Cainneach would masterfully carry off each of these tasks with nary a hiccup.)
Survival 18 (weather forecasting for Ori)
Investigation 11 (foraging for Famh's feast)
Nature 8 (identifying ingredients for Famh's feast)
Survival 22 (tracking a deer for Famh's feast)
Longbow - Attack vs. DEER: 16, damage (piercing): 10 (hunting the deer w/HELP from Salt)
Survival 15 (discussing the trail ahead w/Vardi and Thatch)
Insight 18 (what's up w/these overly deferential townspeople? Suspicious ...)
Perception 12 (Cainneach observing any threats)
Perception 14 (Salt sniffing out any threats)
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
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Vardi, after she emerges from a deeply satisfying discussion of the evolution of personal protection over the centuries with Ser Almeric, becomes aware that her cheese and pickle sandwich seems to be a mite short on cheese. Skoggi sits next to her on the dry fallen pine needles, washing his forepaws with an air of complete innocence, marred only by the fragments of cheese still just visible on his lips.
The blond woman looks from sandwich to cat and back again, shrugs then mutters "Din skurk!" in a tone of annoyed affection.
Vardi sighs quietly and concedes "Better tha' than having ta track ye ta halfway down a rabbit hole again." as she ferrets out a small waxed leather sack from her belongings and places a handful of faintly fishy-smelling dry pellets in a grey stoneware dish in front of Skoggi. Moments later there is nothing left in the bowl, and Vardi pours a few spoonfuls of water from her skin into it.
The big lass silently gathers her thoughts, no easy task as they are like a pack of particularly frisky goats today, awhirl with future possibilities, the novelty of new comrades from places she has never been, and giddy with the sheer excitement of escaping the castle smithy's routine for a while, even if she already misses Morag's cheerful chatter. Duty and curiosity vie for the mission's nebulous aim, worrying at the nature of the trouble that assails Marrowglen's folk, made more ominous by being an unknown quantity. Only one thought sits still, central and silent, the eye in the storm of her mind, a helm that holds a riddle she cannot answer, a mysterious smile on a bronze face that seemingly mocks her efforts to complete it to her own satisfaction.
I will unravel yer riddle, and I will finish ye properlike, but nay right this moment... she silently promises the helm as she places it back on her head and buckles up for the march. Well, a brisk saunter at least, as she carefully matches her stride to the other folk of the Retinue's speed as they make for Hightoun before nightfall. Even with a head full of whirling thoughts, the comfort of performing the other role she has trained so diligently in, to be a shield maiden, defender of the People, the Land and the Crown, more than just an oversized warning of the King's long-reaching authority standing behind a fancy chair all day.
Vardi offers Skoggi a stretched-out arm as a ladder from the ground. He promptly climbs up it, and assumes his usual perch on her shoulder, watching for trouble on high (And small tasty rodents on low, though preferably not voles, whose flavor is not quite to the gentleman rascal's now castle-trained taste.) while his devoted mistress studies the other company she is now keeping.
Irregulars, tha lot of them, but so am I, a shieldmaid of unusual size, so where do I fit? she thinks to herself Nay a light-footed scout, like Thatch or Cainneach, and Ori's a sharp pair of eyes too, but tha big fella is also keeping things running, getting tha food sorted afore we left, that's smart thinking, different kind of scouting ahead and kind for a prickly tempered man...
Ser Almeric may call himself a clothes horse, but there's more going on in his noggin than wood, that's for sure! Got his work cut out keeping his troop happy and his Baron too though. Cannay be easy, for a man with ambitions ta be more than just a humble knight ta polish rough diamonds, even if he knows he has precious gems in his grasp wi' a bit of patience. Famh sees more than she lets on, I reckon, nay daft, but too clever ta be Mistress Sensible all tha time, quick of both limb and wit. Nay one to cross in romance either, for she has tha she-goat eye on her for keeping track of her beloved, and her fine hound Salt as well, not a lady born but nay a serf manners either...
When the good-natured chaffing between Cainneach and Ori becomes loud enough to disturb her musings, Vardi offers the knowledge that Hightoun is a hike uphill, but close enough to reach before dark as reassurance that there is time enough to walk rather than quick-march there. A troubling thought occurs to her as she enjoys the sight of Ori in a relaxed pose, admiring the forest and at peace in it, but she pushes it to the back of her mind for the while, unwilling to disturb the gentle mood within the pine glade.
Later, in Hightoun...
Vardi bends down a little and whispers in Ori's ear "Please, never refuse what they offer, Ser! Twill bring bad feeling among tha locals if ye do. Nay stick a knife in their pride, eh? They're already asking for our help. Dinnay turn down theirs."
When the whirlwind that is Famh in the kitchen hits, the big lass offers what assistance she can without getting in the path of a force of culinary nature, and keeps an eye on Skoggi, who has his eyes already on the prize of fresh venison.
When Vardi sees Ori and Almeric deep in talk, seemingly of serious nature, her curious ears play the rascal on her again, but as a result, she politely approaches the two men and offers "Ye recall tha' asked me about the big man hereabout afore Ser Almeric? I can tell ye a little, in tha' I have seen Ser Robert in the flesh, but from a distance more respectful than given ta fine detail. I have heard little of him in passing, which some might say speaks well of him to have so little gossip about him, particularly as he's the one dealing with the troublemakers from town, rather than putting in tha stocks or dungeon cells."
The big lass looks less confident as she fiddles with a plait end and chooses her next words with care "My last point is an assumption, nay a known fact, but this is border country Ser. Nay always a peaceful border either. If the Duke has let Ser Robert in charge here for a fair while, then he's a fighting laird, and one who has defended this place successfully afore. Men like that don't ask for aid from their laird wi'out good reason. If we're dealing with raiders at work, then they're nay the usual sort."
(Din skurk! = You Rascal!)
Relaxing in the cottage after the delicious meal created by Famh, Almeric is updating Ori on the mission when Vardi adds knowledge and wisdom to the conversation. "Thank you Vardi, for the advice. Sir Robert Brunn, the Sheriff of Marrowglen, seems to have the reputation of a respected and efficient law enforcer. Perhaps the lack of rumours about him suggests a 'linear' leadership style? You know what they say Vardi, when you're a hammer, every problem is a nail." he chuckles "Officers like this can be very efficient when performing routine duties, but often lack the imagination to adapt to complex situation. Clearly, this situation cannot be resolved with steel alone, but never fear. Complex situations is the Dayne Retinue speciality. The supernatural, the infernal, the undead, we've dealt with it all. So when the fighting starts, I'd like you by my side, shields locked and nothing will get past us. If you have any questions Vardi, now is the time."
Almeric grins and stands, raising his hands in supplication to all. "Pray lend me your ears friends. Our reason for being in Beltayne is not secret, but is very discrete and I want to keep it that way. 'Officially' we are seconded to the Duke's Household, I have a letter to prove it and anything else about us is strictly need to know. We will set watches as normal and rise at dawn. Be prepared for anything from here.
Famh listens seriously to Sir Almeric's briefing, though she seems a little sleepy. She nods at the end and seems about to turn away when something occurs to her. "This mission we're on for the Duke ... how open is that? Will the folk here besides this Sir Robert know why we've been sent?"
"And I'm wondering the same thing Vardi is. I fear it might be too much more complex to be mortal raiders at all. We may have dealt with the eldritch things of the world afore, but that doesn't mean we have to like it."
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
With full stomachs and accomplishments aplenty the companions doss down for the night, the cottage is one large room so they all find space on the floor with the owners cot being taken by Salt and Skoggi so they can keep a serious eye over their human charges.
Thatch and Ori take first watch, Vardi and Famh second and Cainneach and Almeric third.....it is in the early hours of the morning that Salt sits up and Cainneach follows his line of sight hearing the tell-tale clink of metal tack on the road through the village, the riders whoever they are do not stop but continue riding through without stopping....
A few hours later sunlight begins to crest over the hills and roosters crowed along with ptarmigan and capercaillie across the hills.
Ori simply gives a rough grunt at Vardi's comments about just accepting the offering of the people. He knew this game, the one with the most has the honor to allow the distinguished guessed take the accommodations. What the rest don't see is the hefty payment that one gets as well as the prestige that comes with it. The rich get richer simply because they had the most already. But Ori wasn't about to make much of a stink over something he couldn't possibly change, didn't mean he had to like partaking.
Famh was going above and beyond trying to cook and do some special dishes for each of them. Ori certainly appreciated the effort but didn't feel Famh needed to go out of her way with all this. The pastry she handed Ori did look pretty tempting, as he picked it up towards his mouth he whispers in his ear from Famh. Before taking a bite he turned toward her, knowing she was watching and held the pastry up a little higher to signal his reception of the words. As Famh moved away, Ori looked at the baked good puzzled. He hadn't taken a bite before hearing Famhs whispers but it had practically been in his mouth. Nope, not taking any chances. He wrapped it up and stuffed it away for later. Maybe I'll be more willing to have whispers in my head later.
Talking with Almeric about what mission they were on and how little they had to go on. Ori figured they were going to have to some information gathering, it was going to be hard to get information out of these folks without making it obvious what they were up to. Most probably could guess, but Ori didn't feel they needed to broadcast their intentions yet. As Vardi entered the conversation, Ori observed how she worked with Almeric. Should have made her Sargent! "Oi mates best turn in, got another early morning ahead of the lot of ya. I'll take first watch with Thatch."
Watching out a window in the comon area of the manor they are residing in, Ori tosses the pastry over to Thatch. "So mate, how did you end up here? Must be a pretty good tale of stables to high tables."
Almeric: "Thank you Vardi, for the advice. Sir Robert Brunn, the Sheriff of Marrowglen, seems to have the reputation of a respected and efficient law enforcer. Perhaps the lack of rumours about him suggests a 'linear' leadership style? You know what they say Vardi, when you're a hammer, every problem is a nail."
Vardi looks expressionless for a moment, then a smile crosses her face as she offers "Some nails are trickier than others, ser."
Almeric: "Officers like this can be very efficient when performing routine duties, but often lack the imagination to adapt to complex situation. Clearly, this situation cannot be resolved with steel alone, but never fear. Complex situations is the Dayne Retinue speciality. The supernatural, the infernal, the undead, we've dealt with it all. So when the fighting starts, I'd like you by my side, shields locked and nothing will get past us. If you have any questions Vardi, now is the time."
The big lass thinks a moment then says calmly "I undertook to protect tha Crown, tha Land and tha People of Thurland, Ser. Ye have my shield and my hammer at yer service in this matter, be it a man, a beast or something else entirely behind it. That means many questions, nay a few, so I will ask only one for now and save tha rest for later."
Vardi spreads her great hands wide and asks "If tha big man hereabouts nay knows what he's dealing wi' exactly, which seems likely, where do we begin in finding out more?"
She listens carefully to the discussion, aware that the lore of the Lyften Isles she knows may not be the same as Mainlander lore, but may yet prove useful if a common thread can be found in the weave of both. The warrior woman pays particular attention to Famh's point, both in caution to herself and in a growing admiration that Almeric's Irregulars are indeed more than they seem on cursory inspection.
Ori: "Oi mates best turn in, got another early morning ahead of the lot of ya. I'll take first watch with Thatch."
"Aye, Ser, understood." the big lass replies solidly then murmurs "No dancing tonight, Sarge? Ah well, there'll be other nights..." with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
Later, on middle watch...
Come middle watch, Vardi piles a little more wood on the fire, having found the axe and logs outside before dusk, pats Skoggi in passing, and says quietly to Famh "Thank ye for yer advice tha other night, Lady Famh. Ye were right, sometimes ye do have ta be a little forward ta get ahead."
She smiles and adds "I'm nay much good wi' talking ta people who nay know me, and most folk are a bit nervous of me at first, but ye have made me feel right welcome here."
At dawn, during breakfast, Almeric shares his thoughts with the others. "In the earnest aim of succeeding in this mission, I'll say this. There is often strength and authority in not saying anything, when asked unanswerable questions by others. Better it is to say nothing, nod sagely, stroke beards or look stoic, than speak and reveal your ignorance. Sir Robert may be in this situation. It is likely he knows, or suspects what is going on, but won't speak of it openly and reveal his inability to deal with it. I will talk with Sir Robert directly, soldier to soldier, and determine what he knows and how we can help. He could be very resourceful, just lacking in our expertise? You may have doubts, be frightened or unsure, but have faith. All things shall be revealed to us in good time, by the Grace of The Saviour."
Almeric had hoped to avoid going further, not until they had a chance to discuss events occurring at the Temple of the Blue Moon. Time, his overbearing master, has caught up with him once again and removed options. If in doubt, advance' for 'Who Dares, Wins!' "You know I hate to give orders, but if this is too cryptic or evasive for anyone, I'll add this. We will not be discussing anything with anyone outside of this circle of trust. We will not be explaining ourselves or our actions to anyone. We will not be showing ignorance or weakness to the very people we have been sent to help. This includes public outbursts of doubt or expressions of fear, overt or invasive questioning or any behaviours that challenge the feudal order. It is very important that we present unity and strength and inspire faith in others. To fail in these behaviours could instil panic into a delicate situation and bring further loss of life."
Almeric does his best to soften his posture, facial expression and tone of voice to empathise with everyone in the room. "Think of the farmers of Marrowglen. These people are frightened. They have lost family and friends and seek the reassurance of their Duke. Their Sheriff is out of ideas and they may feel hopeless. We can calm their fears, show stability, give them strength and fortitude through our resolve, meeting this situation, whatever is it, and bring them hope. We have faced impossible situations before and prevailed, so I ask you all to be confident and resolute in your actions. Do your jobs, do then well. Don't get killed. Don't get anyone else killed."
Nodding to Vardi, "We have our first lead now, thanks to Cainneach. We will track the riders that passed us this morning. I'm sure they will take us close to Marrowglen and if not, we can reassess on the road. Will luck it will be Sir Robert and his deputies. With Divine Guidance, it may even be those responsible!"
Famh nods. "That's why I wanted to ask you now, in private. So I'd understand what you wished us to keep among ourselves, and what face you wished in public. I didna mean to anger ye."
"But since we're in private here, I do have a question. I wasna sure thanking the fellow who gave up his house to us was questioning the order. Ought I not have? I was thinking he might still be a a freeman ... perhaps the farrier, or a wealthy farmer ... and would be owed more courtesy even by his own lord than simply to be turned out of his home with only silver for thanks. And even if he were but a cottar, he did his duty graciously rather than be sullen. So I didn't mean to question his response so much as to give a full measure of courtesy for his courtesy, over and above what he was legally due."
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
(Sorry, it's been one of those weeks. After today I should get back to my usual posting style.)
Cainneach passed the third watch dutifully and attentively. He didn't make any attempt to engage Almeric in conversation and wondered why the Capellar elected to take this shift. The two didn't have the best relationship and a watch was no time to make small talk or bond. Was he here to babysit? The Capellar should know that someone who had spent years surviving in the wilds of Thuland and Albion wouldn't let their guard down for a moment. And so Cainneach didn't. Didn't speak, didn't stir, just stood, looked, and listened. Fortunately, this focus was rewarded when at some ungodly hour of the early morn both he and Salt detected the sound of riders approaching, then passing through the town. Cainneach was jealous of his hound's keen senses, but knew that the gods had given humans many other advantages and that he should merely be grateful to have such a useful companion. Cainneach glanced over to Almeric and raised his eyebrows, then pointed in the direction of the sound. Almeric acknowledged, but didn't indicate that they should pursue them at the moment. That suited Cainneach just fine, though he was curious who would be up and about this early.
(@Damian_May, did Cainneach notice any details regarding the riders, such as the number, their pace, were they accompanied by any carts, were the horses heavy warhorses or more typical riding horses? And you mentioned metal tack, but did you mean armoured barding, or merely that the horses were shoed and/or the rider's gear rattled around a bit? Happy to roll if requested.)
Come morning, after the shift was over, Cainneach takes a moment to relay his full observations, whatever they may be, to Almeric. He leaves any further discussion for the whole group. It seemed that at least Almeric and Vardi had a better idea of what was going on than he did. Cainneach inquires with Famh as to how her night passed and if she came across anything noteworthy during her watch. If there is an opportunity for discretion, he also asks her how Vardi was getting along, given the eclectic nature of the retinue and Almeric's idiosyncratic leadership.
During Almeric's monologue, Cainneach experiences his obligatory inward groans at any mentions of religion and the "feudal order". In his mind, he imagines leading these poor peasants of Hightoun off into the wilderness, to freedom from the shackles of said order. Unknowingly echoing Ori's sentiments regarding their accommodations, Cainneach can only think of what an unfair construct this all is. He'd somehow been lucky enough to be free of it for sufficiently long to understand that, then to wind up in a safe strata in society with this odd group and their particular skills. Realizing that his mind had wandered, Cainneach snaps back to attention when his name is mentioned and sagely nods in agreement. Yes, let's track them. From what he heard last night, it should be simple enough.
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