Cainneach is forced to drop one hand from the litter and hold it up to shade his eyes as they emerge into the bright sunshine outside of the dungeon, nearly upending Dru's litter in the process. He apologizes for his clumsiness to Thatch and Valor, who had helped him bear this burden, and thanks them. The group lowers her body in the verdant clearing and, as Dru is nestled in the tall grasses once again, Cainneach feels a strange compulsion. Reaching down, he unwraps her corpse carefully, remembering her vibrance in life as his eyes close. After sitting with this memory for a few moments, he gently scoops up her body and takes it to a large tree bordering the small clearing. Somehow, Cainneach senses an ancient power in this mighty sentinel of the forest and lays Dru's body in repose under its shade. Cainneach then takes a few steps backwards and, as he does so, the body of his friend begins to dissipate into shimmering smoke, its tendrils rising, entwining with the branches of the tree, then disappearing, seemingly absorbed into its broad, emerald leaves. This being done, he utters a quiet prayer of thanks to Morkaan and feels some of the darkness of the last hours drift from his mind. Cainneach collects his items and moves into the shade of the sacred tree, listening to hear what his companions planned to do next.
( Yeah, big drop off, many thanks to those who remain. Luckily the new recruits seem eager to get going...just need to get you lot met up with them...)
The companions bear Drus corpse from the Kings Chamber and back through the Tomb, Sir Valor and Father Bretwald pause to say final words over the bodies of Mizzen and Morseth before wrapping them on their cloaks and leaving them in repose against the wall of the chambers they lie in.
Reaching the entry chamber there is a final pause, " Come, let us find the wind and sun once more.", Sir Valor says.
( Not sure if Thatch, Tana or Hotspur would have taken a sword. Feel free to say that you did so.
I'll leave this for 24 hours for any responses then move us up to meeting with the new folks. )
Tana casts a quick glance over at the swords as their now much smaller group departs the area, opting to leave without one due to her more frequent use of arcane abilities. She offers a druidic whisper of prayer over the bodies of the group's fallen friends, head bowed in a final show of respect before stepping off to one side – eyes still lingering on the mournful scene all the while.
"The natural light will be a welcome sight." She notes quietly as the group steps out into the entry chamber.
Thatch kneels down before the chest, reaching in for the treasures inside, then pulling his hands back in hesitation, unsure if he wants to touch such relics. At the words of Father Bretwald, he gently closes the chest, leaving the contents undisturbed.
He looks at the swords with doubt, but at the urging of his liege lord Thatch moves forward and takes one of the blades for himself. The work done here, he helps Cainneach and the others carry Dru out of the tomb.
Cainneach is forced to drop one hand from the litter and hold it up to shade his eyes as they emerge into the bright sunshine outside of the dungeon, nearly upending Dru's litter in the process. He apologizes for his clumsiness to Thatch and Valor, who had helped him bear this burden, and thanks them. The group lowers her body in the verdant clearing and, as Dru is nestled in the tall grasses once again, Cainneach feels a strange compulsion. Reaching down, he unwraps her corpse carefully, remembering her vibrance in life as his eyes close. After sitting with this memory for a few moments, he gently scoops up her body and takes it to a large tree bordering the small clearing. Somehow, Cainneach senses an ancient power in this mighty sentinel of the forest and lays Dru's body in repose under its shade. Cainneach then takes a few steps backwards and, as he does so, the body of his friend begins to dissipate into shimmering smoke, its tendrils rising, entwining with the branches of the tree, then disappearing, seemingly absorbed into its broad, emerald leaves. This being done, he utters a quiet prayer of thanks to Morkaan and feels some of the darkness of the last hours drift from his mind. Cainneach collects his items and moves into the shade of the sacred tree, listening to hear what his companions planned to do next.
As Tana watches this she notes two wild, lean figures standing beneath the trees some way off in the shadows beneath the canopy, Aos Si, one seems angry...or at least unhappy with what had just occured; the other, taller and lither lays a calming hand on the others shoulder and meets Tanas eyes. It gives a Cheshire grin and vanishes from sight....moments later the other figure disappears as well.
Bretwald seems somewhat perturbed by whatever strange sorceries had just occured, Sir Valor and Hotspur are taking it in their stride compartively.
Sir Valor speaks, " We should withdraw from Fenring forest with some haste....I doubt the patience of the Good Folk will last longer than a day or so."
" We must travel west and return Bretwald to Axbridge and collect Le Cloche for transport to the Baron."
" I am unsure what do from that point as I should return home to make an accounting to my father of our households deaths, but I am loathe to drag le Cloche back to Scardic and involve my father further in the stain he has inflicted upon our family."
" Let us deliver Bretwald and then think more on it..."
As the figures vanish, Tana continues to stare at the previously occupied spot with great interest – seemingly trying to decipher its magic. As Valor speaks she tears her gaze away to consider his words, bobbing her head in agreement when he finishes.
"Tread lightly friends, it would be in our best interest to keep our disturbance minimal – lest we trigger any other wild occurrences."
The group headed out of Fenring Forest in the crisp morning air, beneath the boughs it was almost oppressive even for Cainneach and the companions felt eyes on them the whole way.
Stepping back onto the trade road they turned east and passed through Trefell where the locals gifted them with produce and spoke with Tana about her time with them. The group moved on taking luncheon at Gullys Inn and then passing through Norham and arriving at Igham as evening began to approach.
Sir Valor called on the Bailiff Notker seeking lodgings for the night. After brief introductions they were bade to sit while the two men conferred.
A few minutes into the conversation with the red faced little man, Hammon the village Reeve and the village priest Bohemond entered to report on construction of the chapel and other local events. Bohemond and Bretwald were soon engaged in an earnest theological discussion while Sir Valor and Hammon spoke with Notker.
A young girl brought around a tray of warmed cider for each of the companions while they took their leisure about the manor hall. It was sparsely furnished and the table at its centre barely seated six rather than the twenty or so in more grand houses. An elderly wolfhound lazed in front of the fire and somewhere upstairs a woman was happily, if badly, singing old folk tunes.
Eventually Notker stated to Sir Valor, " I have three rooms I can spare you....unless your servants would prefer a barnloft?"
Sir Valor coughed, " Uh....technically none of them are servants per se. Members of the Dayne Household rather."
( Please welcome our new players onboard, they should be making their entrances shortly)
A slender auburn-haired girl wearing a plaid Thulish kilt-dress and blue semmit enters diffidently after you, followed by a much larger man. Watching the girl, you get the sense that stones have perhaps been not only her bed but the music that saluted her ears far too many nights of her life; the Fey touch shows all too clearly in her features and in the air of peculiar abstraction that flits across her face as she gazes at each of you, pausing with particular interest when she sees a fellow countryman among you. But her head is held confidently and she seems to bear herself as one who at least fears no harm from those she is now among. And her voice is clear, if a little hesistant as she looks around, uncertain who to address.
"I beg pardon for intruding, syrs; but the Lady Mavis has sent us to find the reeve? Hammon? There's been an attack on the sheep by some wild dogs!
The big fella walked up casually up to the table and turned to lean his backside against the table and crossed his thick arms. His raggy shirt, clearly cut to show off muscles, looks a little baggy on the man. Grey hairs and wrinkles starting to show themselves giving away that fact that he's a few summers past his prime but still looks like he is bigger then most men.
"Aye, mangy mutts ran off without too much confrontation, so at least they ain't rabid or starving enough to fight back. But who know how long till that fact changes."
Looking around at the faces of those around the table and sensing the mood. "Everything alright here, Hammon?"
Cainneach shadowed the party for their remaining time in the Fenring Forest. As they approached the approximate boundary of the enchanted wood, he contemplated his future. For years now, he'd known no other home than the forests here and had never seriously contemplated returning to the "civilized" world that had robbed him of his home and family. And yet, he once again found himself without any real friends or family now that Dru had passed. The group that he had suffered with in Vallandar's tomb were as close to that as he now had. It seemed that Thatch and Tana were worthy companions and, for some reason he did not understand, Cainneach even felt that he might miss the irascible drunk of a bard. Thus, the young ranger currently finds himself seated at a table in Igham, trying to keep track and make sense of the various conversations going on around him.
Unsure of what the difficulty might be in securing lodging in this town, Cainneach is seriously considering heading off to spend the night in the woods when a peculiar pair enter the room with a story about wild dogs and sheep. What is more interesting, however, is the young woman. Her mode of dress stirs something in his memories of his old homeland ...
A slender auburn-haired girl wearing a plaid Thulish kilt-dress and blue semmit enters diffidently after you, followed by a much larger man. Watching the girl, you get the sense that stones have perhaps been not only her bed but the music that saluted her ears far too many nights of her life; the Fey touch shows all too clearly in her features and in the air of peculiar abstraction that flits across her face as she gazes at each of you, pausing with particular interest when she sees a fellow countryman among you. But her head is held confidently and she seems to bear herself as one who at least fears no harm from those she is now among. And her voice is clear, if a little hesistant as she looks around, uncertain who to address.
"I beg pardon for intruding, syrs; but the Lady Mavis has sent us to find the reeve? Hammon? There's been an attack on the sheep by some wild dogs!
The big fella walked up casually up to the table and turned to lean his backside against the table and crossed his thick arms. His raggy shirt, clearly cut to show off muscles, looks a little baggy on the man. Grey hairs and wrinkles starting to show themselves giving away that fact that he's a few summers past his prime but still looks like he is bigger then most men.
"Aye, mangy mutts ran off without too much confrontation, so at least they ain't rabid or starving enough to fight back. But who know how long till that fact changes."
Looking around at the faces of those around the table and sensing the mood. "Everything alright here, Hammon?"
Reeve Hammon turns to regard the two, the Bailiff Notker seems agitated that they are speaking and Sir Valor stifles a slight cough as his eyes move between the two men.
" Begging your pardon, Bailiff....Sir Dayne."
" Thankyou, any losses? I'll be with you shortly. Please join Sir Valor Daynes companions while I speak further with the Bailiff."
Cainneach shadowed the party for their remaining time in the Fenring Forest. As they approached the approximate boundary of the enchanted wood, he contemplated his future. For years now, he'd known no other home than the forests here and had never seriously contemplated returning to the "civilized" world that had robbed him of his home and family. And yet, he once again found himself without any real friends or family now that Dru had passed. The group that he had suffered with in Vallandar's tomb were as close to that as he now had. It seemed that Thatch and Tana were worthy companions and, for some reason he did not understand, Cainneach even felt that he might miss the irascible drunk of a bard. Thus, the young ranger currently finds himself seated at a table in Igham, trying to keep track and make sense of the various conversations going on around him.
Unsure of what the difficulty might be in securing lodging in this town, Cainneach is seriously considering heading off to spend the night in the woods when a peculiar pair enter the room with a story about wild dogs and sheep. What is more interesting, however, is the young woman. Her mode of dress stirs something in his memories of his old homeland ...
"No losses, syr, though one ewe was a little scratched. I'll go and join them now then, thank you syr."
She looks over at the central table to see if there are any free seats; seeing at least one, she walks over and takes the seat closest to Cainneach without actually being next to him. She dips her head to him courteously and sits down, but seems unsure what further to do now that her news has been delivered. You get the feeling that she had simply been told to find the reeve and tell him of the attack, and had not expected to be told to wait for him to speak to her further later. She draws some plaited strands of undyed woolen yarn from a pouch at her belt and nervously begins to play cats'-cradle with them; one has a polished white stone bead about the size of a hazel-nut threaded on it..
"Alright then, carry on." Unfolding his arms, he makes his way over the gather lot, grabbing a chair and dragging it over to the table. He spins in such that the high back of the chair is closer to the table then the bottom and sits straddling the chair to face the table."Aye mates, you lot look like you been through a ringer or two to get here. What brings you to these parts? I myself haven't been here for too many moons but ain't seen you before. Ori's the name everyone but my mother calls me." He folds his arms again and rest them on the back of the chair as he leans in.
Quietly entering the manor, Fergus scans the room to find a full house. A pale and gaunt man in his early twenties with a light frame, he wears a leather armor jacket over a shirt and waistcoat. All of his gear is good quality but clearly worn and faded, likely to have had a few owners before. Smiling warmly to the group, he runs his fingers through his mid length brown hair away from his face and announces softly but clearly and deliberately
"Greetings all, here seeking Sir Valor. My name is Fergus and I have arrived with his cousin, the good Sir Almeric."
Bowing slightly he waits for somebody to either confirm they are Valor or point him in the right direction. As he stands straight he shifts uncomfortably, certain parts of his body aching. He had ridden more these past few days than he had in all the days up to setting off with Sir Almeric combined.
A tall, dark and handsome man enters just behind Fergus. He is dressed as a Crusading Knight, in full maille, sword at his hip and a shield slung in his back. His once-white tabard bears a purple star with 8 points. He has a confident and noble bearing. Taking off his nasal helm, he throws a beaming smile across the room.
"Well met one and all." Almeric beams at everyone in turn until his gaze falls upon Sir Valor "Val, is that you? It's your cousin Meric! It's been a few years mind you."
Almeric's informal, or even uncouth approach has served him well in the Capellers, but is s one of the reasons he was 'encouraged' to go on crusade in the first place.
Thatch moves to the corner of the room, grasping his cup of cider in both hands as the leaders of the village discuss matters with Syr Valor. He looks up with interest as newcomers enter the room with news of the attack against the flock. He sticks out his hand to the pair “They call me Thatch. Really the hayloft would have been fine with me. I am a stablehand myself”His hand disappears in the meaty fist of the larger man.
Short and skinny with a tangled mass of straw colored hair, Thatch appears a lot younger than his age. He wears a dark green traveling cloak and battered, hand-me-down leather armor that is a little too big for him, short bow and arrows slung behind his back, and an ancient gladius belted to his waist. “We accompanied the lordling to welcome the birth of his cousin, I think, but dealt with a brigand uprising, the white witch of folktales, and sought out the final resting place of the once and future king.” Thatch stops, turning slightly red in the face as he realizes he is rambling. “You two aren’t from around here are you?”He looks pointedly at the young woman as he asks, then his attention turns to the door as the others enter.
Taking Thatch's hand he says "I know what ya mean mate. Myself, I hold up in Barn at Garman's farm. Nice enough old cuss, rents out some space up there to those passing through sometimes. I just forgot to leave I suppose." He settles back to a more casual position him his arms settles on the chair back again.
Hearing Thatch tell the path the group traveled to get there, make Ori whistle in amazement. "Well that is quite the adventure. Well you made it this far at least."
His answer to Thatch's last inquiry got cut off before he started as the new arrivals entered.
When Thatch mentions he is a stablehand, the auburn-haired girl visibly relaxes; but at his final question, the wary look returns to her eyes that had been growing there since Hammon asked her to wait. She too is distracted by the advent of the newcomers, though she seems more disconcerted by Fergus than by Almeric. At least, it is the latter's informality of manner that puts her at ease enough to remember that she had been asked a question. She smiles, if a little bitterly.
"I suppose I'm as much from here as anywhere. Brither Cadfael always treated us kindly, before he felt the call to serve the True God another way and went off to the moors a holy hermit; but all the rest in the village where I was born saw little enough difference between changeling and demon, and they drove my mother out onto those same moors when I was a wee lass. And the moors of northern Thuland may well suit a holy hermit, but they're nae place for a mother and her bairn. But here, they're near as kind as Brither Cadfael! I hear the odd cross whisper over my shoulder, aye, but the Lady and her sons have taken me in, and I've taken service with them as a shepherd for my loft room and a far better board than the moors can set. Can you imagine -- a shepherd!"
From the way she enunciates the last word, you would feel comfortable risking a long shot bet that she is both excited and proud to be a shepherd for the Lady. From Hammon's expression when she first said the word, you would risk an additional bet that this girl is the only one who applies that title to "the Lady". After a moment she goes on:
"So sorry, where are my manners? You can call me 'Mole'. Or 'Famh' if you like, it's the name I was christened with. Means the same in Thulish, so its all one anyhow"
Tana, who had shuffled herself over to the wolfhound at some point – basking similarly in the warmth of the fire while stroking the elderly furry companion – pushes herself up to a standing position as the newcomers find their way over to the remainder of the group. She moves closer as the introductions begin, appearing just a few paces behind Thatch. The newcomers will note her oddly pale complexion, shimmering locks of white hair braided back with a thin piece of leather. Frosty blue eyes seem to soften in the light of the fire and her voice comes out rather airy.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she comments after Mole introduces herself. "I am Tanatari, although, simply Tana is fine."
She starts slightly at the sudden appearance of even more new arrivals, head turning from the conversation at hand to the men at the entrance – blinking with mild curiosity at the supposed noble now just within the doorway.
"No losses, syr, though one ewe was a little scratched. I'll go and join them now then, thank you syr."
She looks over at the central table to see if there are any free seats; seeing at least one, she walks over and takes the seat closest to Cainneach without actually being next to him. She dips her head to him courteously and sits down, but seems unsure what further to do now that her news has been delivered. You get the feeling that she had simply been told to find the reeve and tell him of the attack, and had not expected to be told to wait for him to speak to her further later. She draws some plaited strands of undyed woolen yarn from a pouch at her belt and nervously begins to play cats'-cradle with them; one has a polished white stone bead about the size of a hazel-nut threaded on it..
"Alright then, carry on." Unfolding his arms, he makes his way over the gather lot, grabbing a chair and dragging it over to the table. He spins in such that the high back of the chair is closer to the table then the bottom and sits straddling the chair to face the table."Aye mates, you lot look like you been through a ringer or two to get here. What brings you to these parts? I myself haven't been here for too many moons but ain't seen you before. Ori's the name everyone but my mother calls me." He folds his arms again and rest them on the back of the chair as he leans in.
" Pleased to meetcha, Ori."
" My name....well, me friends call me Hotspur.", followed up the roguish young man in the coloured tabbard.
He was about to launch into something when Thatch spoke so he demured to the other young man...
Thatch moves to the corner of the room, grasping his cup of cider in both hands as the leaders of the village discuss matters with Syr Valor. He looks up with interest as newcomers enter the room with news of the attack against the flock. He sticks out his hand to the pair “They call me Thatch. Really the hayloft would have been fine with me. I am a stablehand myself”His hand disappears in the meaty fist of the larger man.
Short and skinny with a tangled mass of straw colored hair, Thatch appears a lot younger than his age. He wears a dark green traveling cloak and battered, hand-me-down leather armor that is a little too big for him, short bow and arrows slung behind his back, and an ancient gladius belted to his waist. “We accompanied the lordling to welcome the birth of his cousin, I think, but dealt with a brigand uprising, the white witch of folktales, and sought out the final resting place of the once and future king.” Thatch stops, turning slightly red in the face as he realizes he is rambling. “You two aren’t from around here are you?”He looks pointedly at the young woman as he asks, then his attention turns to the door as the others enter.
Taking Thatch's hand he says "I know what ya mean mate. Myself, I hold up in Barn at Garman's farm. Nice enough old cuss, rents out some space up there to those passing through sometimes. I just forgot to leave I suppose." He settles back to a more casual position him his arms settles on the chair back again.
Hearing Thatch tell the path the group traveled to get there, make Ori whistle in amazement. "Well that is quite the adventure. Well you made it this far at least."
His answer to Thatch's last inquiry got cut off before he started as the new arrivals entered.
When Thatch mentions he is a stablehand, the auburn-haired girl visibly relaxes; but at his final question, the wary look returns to her eyes that had been growing there since Hammon asked her to wait. She too is distracted by the advent of the newcomers, though she seems more disconcerted by Fergus than by Almeric. At least, it is the latter's informality of manner that puts her at ease enough to remember that she had been asked a question. She smiles, if a little bitterly.
"I suppose I'm as much from here as anywhere. Brither Cadfael always treated us kindly, before he felt the call to serve the True God another way and went off to the moors a holy hermit; but all the rest in the village where I was born saw little enough difference between changeling and demon, and they drove my mother out onto those same moors when I was a wee lass. And the moors of northern Thuland may well suit a holy hermit, but they're nae place for a mother and her bairn. But here, they're near as kind as Brither Cadfael! I hear the odd cross whisper over my shoulder, aye, but the Lady and her sons have taken me in, and I've taken service with them as a shepherd for my loft room and a far better board than the moors can set. Can you imagine -- a shepherd!"
From the way she enunciates the last word, you would feel comfortable risking a long shot bet that she is both excited and proud to be a shepherd for the Lady. From Hammon's expression when she first said the word, you would risk an additional bet that this girl is the only one who applies that title to "the Lady". After a moment she goes on:
"So sorry, where are my manners? You can call me 'Mole'. Or 'Famh' if you like, it's the name I was christened with. Means the same in Thulish, so its all one anyhow"
Tana, who had shuffled herself over to the wolfhound at some point – basking similarly in the warmth of the fire while stroking the elderly furry companion – pushes herself up to a standing position as the newcomers find their way over to the remainder of the group. She moves closer as the introductions begin, appearing just a few paces behind Thatch. The newcomers will note her oddly pale complexion, shimmering locks of white hair braided back with a thin piece of leather. Frosty blue eyes seem to soften in the light of the fire and her voice comes out rather airy.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she comments after Mole introduces herself. "I am Tanatari, although, simply Tana is fine."
She starts slightly at the sudden appearance of even more new arrivals, head turning from the conversation at hand to the men at the entrance – blinking with mild curiosity at the supposed noble now just within the doorway.
Quietly entering the manor, Fergus scans the room to find a full house. A pale and gaunt man in his early twenties with a light frame, he wears a leather armor jacket over a shirt and waistcoat. All of his gear is good quality but clearly worn and faded, likely to have had a few owners before. Smiling warmly to the group, he runs his fingers through his mid length brown hair away from his face and announces softly but clearly and deliberately
"Greetings all, here seeking Sir Valor. My name is Fergus and I have arrived with his cousin, the good Sir Almeric."
Bowing slightly he waits for somebody to either confirm they are Valor or point him in the right direction. As he stands straight he shifts uncomfortably, certain parts of his body aching. He had ridden more these past few days than he had in all the days up to setting off with Sir Almeric combined.
A tall, dark and handsome man enters just behind Fergus. He is dressed as a Crusading Knight, in full maille, sword at his hip and a shield slung in his back. His once-white tabard bears a purple star with 8 points. He has a confident and noble bearing. Taking off his nasal helm, he throws a beaming smile across the room.
"Well met one and all." Almeric beams at everyone in turn until his gaze falls upon Sir Valor "Val, is that you? It's your cousin Meric! It's been a few years mind you."
Almeric's informal, or even uncouth approach has served him well in the Capellers, but is s one of the reasons he was 'encouraged' to go on crusade in the first place.
The Bailiff Notkers face had screwed up at Fergus' entrance but when he made his announcement and Sir Almeric had entered that fell away into a welcoming smile as he bade the young lass to bring out some elderberry wine for their new guest.
Hammon the Reeve stepped back from Sir Valor Dayne to allow him to greet his cousin.
Valor for his part truly smiled for the first time in many days, " Cousin! You've been missed!"
" It is good to see you hale and well and undamaged by sea, road or battle."
" Oh, this is truly a blessing."
" Bailiff? Would it be terrible of me to continue this conversation later this evening? I needs speak family business with my good cousin."
Notker did his best to look unbothered, " Of course. Nothing is more important than family."
As Notker retreated to his study, Hammon came over and spoke to Famh and Ori, " You know what, take your ease here...you've had enough excitement for the day.I need to go speak with the Good Widow on another matter anyway so I'll head up and speak with her and the boys. Thankyou for coming to fetch me.....busy day...the wagons back, dog attacks, noble visitors..."
Sir Valor snatched up the elderberry wine and two cups as the girl returned and carried them over to Sir Almeric, " Come cousin, we've both tales to tell before I bend your ear for a favour."
Once Sir Almeric enters and takes the spotlight, Fergus slips to the side of the room, happy for the attention to be drawn away from him. Seeing the room is quiet crowded, he finds a wall space to occupy and studies the various occupants who were in mid conversation before he interrupted. He had grown fond of Sir Almeric these last few days and with a small smile he is heartened watching the cousins reunite.
Asking the serving girl politely for a cider, Fergus nods politely to any that make eye contact with him while he waits.
Almeric strides up to Valor and throws his arms around him, drawing the man into a rib-cracking hug.
"Missed me did you? A blessing is it? Aye, I have many a scar to remind me of my adventures, and I'm not dead yet. Things must have been pretty quiet around without me to get such a welcome. Let's get this family business out of the way, then we can drink and tell tall tales into the night."
Almeric moves to the corner of the room with Valor, where hushed tones might maintain the veil of privacy as the two nobles talk business.
Almeric strides up to Valor and throws his arms around him, drawing the man into a rib-cracking hug.
"Missed me did you? A blessing is it? Aye, I have many a scar to remind me of my adventures, and I'm not dead yet. Things must have been pretty quiet around without me to get such a welcome. Let's get this family business out of the way, then we can drink and tell tall tales into the night."
Almeric moves to the corner of the room with Valor, where hushed tones might maintain the veil of privacy as the two nobles talk business.
Valor tells Almeric of the tragedy in Maidens Vale and the Test of Vallandar and the loss of members of his household.
" I must head back to Scardic and give my father an accounting of our losses. Could I ask you to take Le Cloche to Baron Aldred to make an accounting of his crimes. I have prepared a full written statement of his and our actions in Maidens Vale which I give into your keeping. I will be taking young Hotspur back to Scardic with me but I would put the others into your service to assist you along the way. They are brave beyond their years and there is steel there in their spirits."
" What say you?"
( NB. If you need more details of what has transpired previously feel free to PM me.)
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Cainneach is forced to drop one hand from the litter and hold it up to shade his eyes as they emerge into the bright sunshine outside of the dungeon, nearly upending Dru's litter in the process. He apologizes for his clumsiness to Thatch and Valor, who had helped him bear this burden, and thanks them. The group lowers her body in the verdant clearing and, as Dru is nestled in the tall grasses once again, Cainneach feels a strange compulsion. Reaching down, he unwraps her corpse carefully, remembering her vibrance in life as his eyes close. After sitting with this memory for a few moments, he gently scoops up her body and takes it to a large tree bordering the small clearing. Somehow, Cainneach senses an ancient power in this mighty sentinel of the forest and lays Dru's body in repose under its shade. Cainneach then takes a few steps backwards and, as he does so, the body of his friend begins to dissipate into shimmering smoke, its tendrils rising, entwining with the branches of the tree, then disappearing, seemingly absorbed into its broad, emerald leaves. This being done, he utters a quiet prayer of thanks to Morkaan and feels some of the darkness of the last hours drift from his mind. Cainneach collects his items and moves into the shade of the sacred tree, listening to hear what his companions planned to do next.
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As Tana watches this she notes two wild, lean figures standing beneath the trees some way off in the shadows beneath the canopy, Aos Si, one seems angry...or at least unhappy with what had just occured; the other, taller and lither lays a calming hand on the others shoulder and meets Tanas eyes. It gives a Cheshire grin and vanishes from sight....moments later the other figure disappears as well.
Bretwald seems somewhat perturbed by whatever strange sorceries had just occured, Sir Valor and Hotspur are taking it in their stride compartively.
Sir Valor speaks, " We should withdraw from Fenring forest with some haste....I doubt the patience of the Good Folk will last longer than a day or so."
" We must travel west and return Bretwald to Axbridge and collect Le Cloche for transport to the Baron."
" I am unsure what do from that point as I should return home to make an accounting to my father of our households deaths, but I am loathe to drag le Cloche back to Scardic and involve my father further in the stain he has inflicted upon our family."
" Let us deliver Bretwald and then think more on it..."
As the figures vanish, Tana continues to stare at the previously occupied spot with great interest – seemingly trying to decipher its magic. As Valor speaks she tears her gaze away to consider his words, bobbing her head in agreement when he finishes.
"Tread lightly friends, it would be in our best interest to keep our disturbance minimal – lest we trigger any other wild occurrences."
Noire Havensong | Harengon Archfey Warlock 6/Lore Bard 4 | Westmarch - Guild of the Phoenix (Discord)
Tanatari Crelieu | Kalashtar Druid 2 | Damian_May's Sleeping Gods
Jynx Starrkeep | Changling GOO Warlock 2 | Astien's Tyranny of Dragons
DM | Eberron Eternal (Discord)
The group headed out of Fenring Forest in the crisp morning air, beneath the boughs it was almost oppressive even for Cainneach and the companions felt eyes on them the whole way.
Stepping back onto the trade road they turned east and passed through Trefell where the locals gifted them with produce and spoke with Tana about her time with them. The group moved on taking luncheon at Gullys Inn and then passing through Norham and arriving at Igham as evening began to approach.
Sir Valor called on the Bailiff Notker seeking lodgings for the night. After brief introductions they were bade to sit while the two men conferred.
A few minutes into the conversation with the red faced little man, Hammon the village Reeve and the village priest Bohemond entered to report on construction of the chapel and other local events. Bohemond and Bretwald were soon engaged in an earnest theological discussion while Sir Valor and Hammon spoke with Notker.
A young girl brought around a tray of warmed cider for each of the companions while they took their leisure about the manor hall. It was sparsely furnished and the table at its centre barely seated six rather than the twenty or so in more grand houses. An elderly wolfhound lazed in front of the fire and somewhere upstairs a woman was happily, if badly, singing old folk tunes.
Eventually Notker stated to Sir Valor, " I have three rooms I can spare you....unless your servants would prefer a barnloft?"
Sir Valor coughed, " Uh....technically none of them are servants per se. Members of the Dayne Household rather."
( Please welcome our new players onboard, they should be making their entrances shortly)
A slender auburn-haired girl wearing a plaid Thulish kilt-dress and blue semmit enters diffidently after you, followed by a much larger man. Watching the girl, you get the sense that stones have perhaps been not only her bed but the music that saluted her ears far too many nights of her life; the Fey touch shows all too clearly in her features and in the air of peculiar abstraction that flits across her face as she gazes at each of you, pausing with particular interest when she sees a fellow countryman among you. But her head is held confidently and she seems to bear herself as one who at least fears no harm from those she is now among. And her voice is clear, if a little hesistant as she looks around, uncertain who to address.
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 big fella walked up casually up to the table and turned to lean his backside against the table and crossed his thick arms. His raggy shirt, clearly cut to show off muscles, looks a little baggy on the man. Grey hairs and wrinkles starting to show themselves giving away that fact that he's a few summers past his prime but still looks like he is bigger then most men.
"Aye, mangy mutts ran off without too much confrontation, so at least they ain't rabid or starving enough to fight back. But who know how long till that fact changes."
Looking around at the faces of those around the table and sensing the mood. "Everything alright here, Hammon?"
Cainneach shadowed the party for their remaining time in the Fenring Forest. As they approached the approximate boundary of the enchanted wood, he contemplated his future. For years now, he'd known no other home than the forests here and had never seriously contemplated returning to the "civilized" world that had robbed him of his home and family. And yet, he once again found himself without any real friends or family now that Dru had passed. The group that he had suffered with in Vallandar's tomb were as close to that as he now had. It seemed that Thatch and Tana were worthy companions and, for some reason he did not understand, Cainneach even felt that he might miss the irascible drunk of a bard. Thus, the young ranger currently finds himself seated at a table in Igham, trying to keep track and make sense of the various conversations going on around him.
Unsure of what the difficulty might be in securing lodging in this town, Cainneach is seriously considering heading off to spend the night in the woods when a peculiar pair enter the room with a story about wild dogs and sheep. What is more interesting, however, is the young woman. Her mode of dress stirs something in his memories of his old homeland ...
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Reeve Hammon turns to regard the two, the Bailiff Notker seems agitated that they are speaking and Sir Valor stifles a slight cough as his eyes move between the two men.
" Begging your pardon, Bailiff....Sir Dayne."
" Thankyou, any losses? I'll be with you shortly. Please join Sir Valor Daynes companions while I speak further with the Bailiff."
The Thulish girl curtseys deeply to the reeve.
She looks over at the central table to see if there are any free seats; seeing at least one, she walks over and takes the seat closest to Cainneach without actually being next to him. She dips her head to him courteously and sits down, but seems unsure what further to do now that her news has been delivered. You get the feeling that she had simply been told to find the reeve and tell him of the attack, and had not expected to be told to wait for him to speak to her further later. She draws some plaited strands of undyed woolen yarn from a pouch at her belt and nervously begins to play cats'-cradle with them; one has a polished white stone bead about the size of a hazel-nut threaded on 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
"Alright then, carry on." Unfolding his arms, he makes his way over the gather lot, grabbing a chair and dragging it over to the table. He spins in such that the high back of the chair is closer to the table then the bottom and sits straddling the chair to face the table."Aye mates, you lot look like you been through a ringer or two to get here. What brings you to these parts? I myself haven't been here for too many moons but ain't seen you before. Ori's the name everyone but my mother calls me." He folds his arms again and rest them on the back of the chair as he leans in.
Quietly entering the manor, Fergus scans the room to find a full house. A pale and gaunt man in his early twenties with a light frame, he wears a leather armor jacket over a shirt and waistcoat. All of his gear is good quality but clearly worn and faded, likely to have had a few owners before. Smiling warmly to the group, he runs his fingers through his mid length brown hair away from his face and announces softly but clearly and deliberately
"Greetings all, here seeking Sir Valor. My name is Fergus and I have arrived with his cousin, the good Sir Almeric."
Bowing slightly he waits for somebody to either confirm they are Valor or point him in the right direction. As he stands straight he shifts uncomfortably, certain parts of his body aching. He had ridden more these past few days than he had in all the days up to setting off with Sir Almeric combined.
A tall, dark and handsome man enters just behind Fergus. He is dressed as a Crusading Knight, in full maille, sword at his hip and a shield slung in his back. His once-white tabard bears a purple star with 8 points. He has a confident and noble bearing. Taking off his nasal helm, he throws a beaming smile across the room.
"Well met one and all." Almeric beams at everyone in turn until his gaze falls upon Sir Valor "Val, is that you? It's your cousin Meric! It's been a few years mind you."
Almeric's informal, or even uncouth approach has served him well in the Capellers, but is s one of the reasons he was 'encouraged' to go on crusade in the first place.
Thatch moves to the corner of the room, grasping his cup of cider in both hands as the leaders of the village discuss matters with Syr Valor. He looks up with interest as newcomers enter the room with news of the attack against the flock. He sticks out his hand to the pair “They call me Thatch. Really the hayloft would have been fine with me. I am a stablehand myself” His hand disappears in the meaty fist of the larger man.
Short and skinny with a tangled mass of straw colored hair, Thatch appears a lot younger than his age. He wears a dark green traveling cloak and battered, hand-me-down leather armor that is a little too big for him, short bow and arrows slung behind his back, and an ancient gladius belted to his waist. “We accompanied the lordling to welcome the birth of his cousin, I think, but dealt with a brigand uprising, the white witch of folktales, and sought out the final resting place of the once and future king.” Thatch stops, turning slightly red in the face as he realizes he is rambling. “You two aren’t from around here are you?” He looks pointedly at the young woman as he asks, then his attention turns to the door as the others enter.
Taking Thatch's hand he says "I know what ya mean mate. Myself, I hold up in Barn at Garman's farm. Nice enough old cuss, rents out some space up there to those passing through sometimes. I just forgot to leave I suppose." He settles back to a more casual position him his arms settles on the chair back again.
Hearing Thatch tell the path the group traveled to get there, make Ori whistle in amazement. "Well that is quite the adventure. Well you made it this far at least."
His answer to Thatch's last inquiry got cut off before he started as the new arrivals entered.
When Thatch mentions he is a stablehand, the auburn-haired girl visibly relaxes; but at his final question, the wary look returns to her eyes that had been growing there since Hammon asked her to wait. She too is distracted by the advent of the newcomers, though she seems more disconcerted by Fergus than by Almeric. At least, it is the latter's informality of manner that puts her at ease enough to remember that she had been asked a question. She smiles, if a little bitterly.
From the way she enunciates the last word, you would feel comfortable risking a long shot bet that she is both excited and proud to be a shepherd for the Lady. From Hammon's expression when she first said the word, you would risk an additional bet that this girl is the only one who applies that title to "the Lady". After a moment she goes on:
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
Tana, who had shuffled herself over to the wolfhound at some point – basking similarly in the warmth of the fire while stroking the elderly furry companion – pushes herself up to a standing position as the newcomers find their way over to the remainder of the group. She moves closer as the introductions begin, appearing just a few paces behind Thatch. The newcomers will note her oddly pale complexion, shimmering locks of white hair braided back with a thin piece of leather. Frosty blue eyes seem to soften in the light of the fire and her voice comes out rather airy.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she comments after Mole introduces herself. "I am Tanatari, although, simply Tana is fine."
She starts slightly at the sudden appearance of even more new arrivals, head turning from the conversation at hand to the men at the entrance – blinking with mild curiosity at the supposed noble now just within the doorway.
Noire Havensong | Harengon Archfey Warlock 6/Lore Bard 4 | Westmarch - Guild of the Phoenix (Discord)
Tanatari Crelieu | Kalashtar Druid 2 | Damian_May's Sleeping Gods
Jynx Starrkeep | Changling GOO Warlock 2 | Astien's Tyranny of Dragons
DM | Eberron Eternal (Discord)
" Pleased to meetcha, Ori."
" My name....well, me friends call me Hotspur.", followed up the roguish young man in the coloured tabbard.
He was about to launch into something when Thatch spoke so he demured to the other young man...
" Not all of us....", Hotspur said quietly.
The Bailiff Notkers face had screwed up at Fergus' entrance but when he made his announcement and Sir Almeric had entered that fell away into a welcoming smile as he bade the young lass to bring out some elderberry wine for their new guest.
Hammon the Reeve stepped back from Sir Valor Dayne to allow him to greet his cousin.
Valor for his part truly smiled for the first time in many days, " Cousin! You've been missed!"
" It is good to see you hale and well and undamaged by sea, road or battle."
" Oh, this is truly a blessing."
" Bailiff? Would it be terrible of me to continue this conversation later this evening? I needs speak family business with my good cousin."
Notker did his best to look unbothered, " Of course. Nothing is more important than family."
As Notker retreated to his study, Hammon came over and spoke to Famh and Ori, " You know what, take your ease here...you've had enough excitement for the day.I need to go speak with the Good Widow on another matter anyway so I'll head up and speak with her and the boys. Thankyou for coming to fetch me.....busy day...the wagons back, dog attacks, noble visitors..."
Sir Valor snatched up the elderberry wine and two cups as the girl returned and carried them over to Sir Almeric, " Come cousin, we've both tales to tell before I bend your ear for a favour."
Once Sir Almeric enters and takes the spotlight, Fergus slips to the side of the room, happy for the attention to be drawn away from him. Seeing the room is quiet crowded, he finds a wall space to occupy and studies the various occupants who were in mid conversation before he interrupted. He had grown fond of Sir Almeric these last few days and with a small smile he is heartened watching the cousins reunite.
Asking the serving girl politely for a cider, Fergus nods politely to any that make eye contact with him while he waits.
Almeric strides up to Valor and throws his arms around him, drawing the man into a rib-cracking hug.
"Missed me did you? A blessing is it? Aye, I have many a scar to remind me of my adventures, and I'm not dead yet. Things must have been pretty quiet around without me to get such a welcome. Let's get this family business out of the way, then we can drink and tell tall tales into the night."
Almeric moves to the corner of the room with Valor, where hushed tones might maintain the veil of privacy as the two nobles talk business.
Valor tells Almeric of the tragedy in Maidens Vale and the Test of Vallandar and the loss of members of his household.
" I must head back to Scardic and give my father an accounting of our losses. Could I ask you to take Le Cloche to Baron Aldred to make an accounting of his crimes. I have prepared a full written statement of his and our actions in Maidens Vale which I give into your keeping. I will be taking young Hotspur back to Scardic with me but I would put the others into your service to assist you along the way. They are brave beyond their years and there is steel there in their spirits."
" What say you?"
( NB. If you need more details of what has transpired previously feel free to PM me.)