While the other folks in the room, both new and old, make their introductions and exchange pleasantries, Cainneach sits in silence, sipping his cider. He is unused to social interactions in general, particularly with this number of people involved. Moreover, Cainneach is struggling to keep from staring at the young woman. "Famh, a curious name for a curious girl. An interesting story she tells, I'll have to discover more," he thinks to himself. Cainneach then tears his attention away and toward the latest addition, Sir Almeric. "So we are losing Sir Valor and Hotspur, but it seems this man is a combination of both!"
Cainneach is draped in a well-worn cloak, ill-fitted to his lanky frame. His skin is pale, thanks in part to his highland heritage, but also due to the amount of time spent in the near perpetual twilight beneath the forest's canopy. Cainneach's hair is light brown, unkempt and long, tied back in a pony tail. His eyes are a striking green, with a glint of defiance grown from a challenging life. He carries an array of weapons, all of a quality beyond his current means. In particular, a careful observer would note two finely crafted swords jammed awkwardly through his belt. The longsword is similar in design to that carried by Sir Valor and other members of his party.
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.)
Almeric nods in understanding, a grim expression upon his face, as Valor recounts the abridged version of recent events. "So Le Cockup strikes again. He was ever a snivelling little weasel. Too stupid to be of any use. Amazed the fool is still alive."Almeric chuckles. "I came across a Robber Knight of the road. Tried to rob us! Wonder if it was one of Cockups boys?"Almeric pauses to assess the strength of his new command.
"These are an irregular lot and not easily missed. Not sure I am the one to keep them hale, but I will do what is required, as you must also. I hope the Olde Fox has mellowed with age. He couldn't wait to get me packed off on crusade. Not sure how pleased he'll be to see me now, especially carrying bad news."Many people referred to Baron Aldred this way, but never to his face.
While the other folks in the room, both new and old, make their introductions and exchange pleasantries, Cainneach sits in silence, sipping his cider. He is unused to social interactions in general, particularly with this number of people involved. Moreover, Cainneach is struggling to keep from staring at the young woman. "Famh, a curious name for a curious girl. An interesting story she tells, I'll have to discover more," he thinks to himself. Cainneach then tears his attention away and toward the latest addition, Sir Almeric. "So we are losing Sir Valor and Hotspur, but it seems this man is a combination of both!"
Cainneach is draped in a well-worn cloak, ill-fitted to his lanky frame. His skin is pale, thanks in part to his highland heritage, but also due to the amount of time spent in the near perpetual twilight beneath the forest's canopy. Cainneach's hair is light brown, unkempt and long, tied back in a pony tail. His eyes are a striking green, with a glint of defiance grown from a challenging life. He carries an array of weapons, all of a quality beyond his current means. In particular, a careful observer would note two finely crafted swords jammed awkwardly through his belt. The longsword is similar in design to that carried by Sir Valor and other members of his party.
Famh smiles back at Tana and seems about to respond to her. She has so far seemed unaware of Cainneach's interest, but as he turns from her to contemplate Sir Almeric a slight murmur escapes his lips, perhaps some fragment of the thoughts roiling within. As soon as she hears his voice , her attention is riveted and she seems to forget about everything else that is going on. She rushes over to him, seeming to barely restrain the urge to seize him by both hands, and starts pouring out words while her eyes gaze into his:
"You're him! You're the voice in my dream! Three times it came to me, the beautiful lady on the dusty marble floor, and the shadows, and always your voice was there and so fierce and you must tell me -- did they ever tell you why?! There must have been a reason, I know now this world couldn't possibly be that horrible for there to be no reason at all. I mean, look at me! Here am I, a strange wandering Thulish nobody of a girl, and they've taken me in and made me a shepherd! Can you imagine that! And the Lady is so kind, and everyone here; and when I was a lass even Brither Cadfael told me that in the Holy Books it says "not a sparrow falleth but He marks its fall", and he gave me this to mind me of that a little before he became a holy hermit on the moors ... here, see!," she pulls off a medallion strung on a leather thong that had been hanging from her neck, and presses it into his hand as she races on. "Even me I think he meant, even my fall would be marked and mourned. Not meaningless. And so there must be a why, and you asked three times so fierce but I always woke up before I heard if they ever gave you an answer." She stares into Con's eyes with a deep sorrow, he can't tell if it is more for Dru or for him. "Have they ever told you yet why she died?"
The medallion is carved of time-mottled stag horn. Engraved in the large teardrop-shaped disk and highlighted by the flaking remnants ofgreen verdigris that once may have been copper leaf, is a figure of a coarsely robed monk with a cloud of small birds flittering around his head. Some rest on his shoulders, and one or two have been brave enough to perch on his fingers as he holds his hand up to his own eye level. His eyes are fixed upon the birds and his lips are clearly parted as if he were speaking to them. Those familiar with the saints of the True Faith recognize him as a monk and saint from the lands where the Selentine Empire once held sway, who in folk belief is said to have preached a sermon to the birds.
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.)
Almeric nods in understanding, a grim expression upon his face, as Valor recounts the abridged version of recent events. "So Le Cockup strikes again. He was ever a snivelling little weasel. Too stupid to be of any use. Amazed the fool is still alive."Almeric chuckles. "I came across a Robber Knight of the road. Tried to rob us! Wonder if it was one of Cockups boys?"Almeric pauses to assess the strength of his new command.
"These are an irregular lot and not easily missed. Not sure I am the one to keep them hale, but I will do what is required, as you must also. I hope the Olde Fox has mellowed with age. He couldn't wait to get me packed off on crusade. Not sure how pleased he'll be to see me now, especially carrying bad news."Many people referred to Baron Aldred this way, but never to his face.
The stableboy was stronger and older than he looked, as was the wild Thulish lad though that one carried grief around him like a shawl. Both of the young women had something 'touched' about them the Thulish one especially so....though she was not one of Valors he believed. The other Igham local was huge and would be an asset in a fight though he seemed to be looking for something he had misplaced. Fergus, he was getting a good feel for his uses....
All in all quite sound though not a trained warrior amongst them they seemed to have aquitted themselves well in their travels with Valor.
His eyes are especially drawn to the blades some of them carry both short and long they are exceptional.
While the other folks in the room, both new and old, make their introductions and exchange pleasantries, Cainneach sits in silence, sipping his cider. He is unused to social interactions in general, particularly with this number of people involved. Moreover, Cainneach is struggling to keep from staring at the young woman. "Famh, a curious name for a curious girl. An interesting story she tells, I'll have to discover more," he thinks to himself. Cainneach then tears his attention away and toward the latest addition, Sir Almeric. "So we are losing Sir Valor and Hotspur, but it seems this man is a combination of both!"
Cainneach is draped in a well-worn cloak, ill-fitted to his lanky frame. His skin is pale, thanks in part to his highland heritage, but also due to the amount of time spent in the near perpetual twilight beneath the forest's canopy. Cainneach's hair is light brown, unkempt and long, tied back in a pony tail. His eyes are a striking green, with a glint of defiance grown from a challenging life. He carries an array of weapons, all of a quality beyond his current means. In particular, a careful observer would note two finely crafted swords jammed awkwardly through his belt. The longsword is similar in design to that carried by Sir Valor and other members of his party.
Famh smiles back at Tana and seems about to respond to her. She has so far seemed unaware of Cainneach's interest, but as he turns from her to contemplate Sir Almeric a slight murmur escapes his lips, perhaps some fragment of the thoughts roiling within. As soon as she hears his voice , her attention is riveted and she seems to forget about everything else that is going on. She rushes over to him, seeming to barely restrain the urge to seize him by both hands, and starts pouring out words while her eyes gaze into his:
"You're him! You're the voice in my dream! Three times it came to me, the beautiful lady on the dusty marble floor, and the shadows, and always your voice was there and so fierce and you must tell me -- did they ever tell you why?! There must have been a reason, I know now this world couldn't possibly be that horrible for there to be no reason at all. I mean, look at me! Here am I, a strange wandering Thulish nobody of a girl, and they've taken me in and made me a shepherd! Can you imagine that! And the Lady is so kind, and everyone here; and when I was a lass even Brither Cadfael told me that in the Holy Books it says "not a sparrow falleth but He marks its fall", and he gave me this to mind me of that a little before he became a holy hermit on the moors ... here, see!," she pulls off a medallion strung on a leather thong that had been hanging from her neck, and presses it into his hand as she races on. "Even me I think he meant, even my fall would be marked and mourned. Not meaningless. And so there must be a why, and you asked three times so fierce but I always woke up before I heard if they ever gave you an answer." She stares into Con's eyes with a deep sorrow, he can't tell if it is more for Dru or for him. "Have they ever told you yet why she died?"
The medallion is carved of time-mottled stag horn. Engraved in the large teardrop-shaped disk and highlighted by the flaking remnants ofgreen verdigris that once may have been copper leaf, is a figure of a coarsely robed monk with a cloud of small birds flittering around his head. Some rest on his shoulders, and one or two have been brave enough to perch on his fingers as he holds his hand up to his own eye level. His eyes are fixed upon the birds and his lips are clearly parted as if he were speaking to them. Those familiar with the saints of the True Faith recognize him as a monk and saint from the lands where the Selentine Empire once held sway, who in folk belief is said to have preached a sermon to the birds.
Cainneach stares at the girl as she unleashes upon him a series of words that couldn't possibly be true, a terrible sorrow welling up in his heart once again. Thoughts race through his reeling mind, "Why, how could she possibly know these things? She wasn't there, she wasn't anywhere near that cursed place where Dru was felled by that grim spectre. A bloody shepherd girl, a simple girl, spouting about dreams of me and Dru ..."Cainneach lowers his eyes and examines the token Famh has handed him while attempting to compose himself. Turning it over several times to take in all the details, Cainneach admires the artistry and detail. The birds seem about to wing away from the setting, while he nearly expects the monk to actually speak. But that spark is quickly extinguished and Cainneach's gaze snaps back to the young shepherd girl. He returns the medallion to her, gently, but holds her hands in his after doing so, and when their eyes meet again, Famh can see that Cainneach speaks in earnest. "Famh, that is your name, yes? I don't understand how you could know the things you claim to know. And I'm glad that your god has shown you a lighter path after difficult times. I truly hope that your death, and may it be years and years from now, is marked and mourned as you say. You ask me if I know why Drusilla is dead? Was it meaningless? Did I get an answer? No, Famh, I didn't. And I imagine I won't until I meet her again in the next life and can ask her myself." His voice starts to grow louder as Cainneach forgets himself and proper comportment in their current company. "The lesson we learned in that tomb was that greed would only bring about your destruction. But Dru wasn't greedy, she was selfless. She took me in when I was no more than a burden and a danger to her own survival. And we both stood with these folks on a quest that we knew was foolhardy and believed was profane, because we didn't want to see them perish when we could instead help them. So why? Why is she dead? Why am I alive? I don't know. I don't know, Famh. Your saints and your god, maybe they have answers for you, but Morkaan and whatever Old Gods Dru saw fit to worship ... I know they've taken her back to them, I've seen that with my own eyes. But why? I'm sorry, but I don't know."Cainneach shakes his head, feeling sorry both for himself and for Famh, feeling that he's let her down as well. He releases the girl's hands and concludes quietly, "I can't imagine that's what you wanted to hear ... Perhaps when we have some moments to ourselves, you can speak to me about your home ... and about these visions."
Thatch places his hand on Cainneach’s shoulder in an awkward attempt to provide some comfort, then steps away from him and the shepherd girl, giving them some privacy in their discussion. He seeks out Fergus, the newcomer who arrived with Sir Almeric by the fire. “I am Thatch. I did not know Syr Valor had another cousin, and here is his in the flesh, straight from battle. Have you traveled with him for long? What brings him back home?”
Cainneach stares at the girl as she unleashes upon him a series of words that couldn't possibly be true, a terrible sorrow welling up in his heart once again. Thoughts race through his reeling mind, "Why, how could she possibly know these things? She wasn't there, she wasn't anywhere near that cursed place where Dru was felled by that grim spectre. A bloody shepherd girl, a simple girl, spouting about dreams of me and Dru ..."Cainneach lowers his eyes and examines the token Famh has handed him while attempting to compose himself. Turning it over several times to take in all the details, Cainneach admires the artistry and detail. The birds seem about to wing away from the setting, while he nearly expects the monk to actually speak. But that spark is quickly extinguished and Cainneach's gaze snaps back to the young shepherd girl. He returns the medallion to her, gently, but holds her hands in his after doing so, and when their eyes meet again, Famh can see that Cainneach speaks in earnest. "Famh, that is your name, yes? I don't understand how you could know the things you claim to know. And I'm glad that your god has shown you a lighter path after difficult times. I truly hope that your death, and may it be years and years from now, is marked and mourned as you say. You ask me if I know why Drusilla is dead? Was it meaningless? Did I get an answer? No, Famh, I didn't. And I imagine I won't until I meet her again in the next life and can ask her myself." His voice starts to grow louder as Cainneach forgets himself and proper comportment in their current company. "The lesson we learned in that tomb was that greed would only bring about your destruction. But Dru wasn't greedy, she was selfless. She took me in when I was no more than a burden and a danger to her own survival. And we both stood with these folks on a quest that we knew was foolhardy and believed was profane, because we didn't want to see them perish when we could instead help them. So why? Why is she dead? Why am I alive? I don't know. I don't know, Famh. Your saints and your god, maybe they have answers for you, but Morkaan and whatever Old Gods Dru saw fit to worship ... I know they've taken her back to them, I've seen that with my own eyes. But why? I'm sorry, but I don't know."Cainneach shakes his head, feeling sorry both for himself and for Famh, feeling that he's let her down as well. He releases the girl's hands and concludes quietly, "I can't imagine that's what you wanted to hear ... Perhaps when we have some moments to ourselves, you can speak to me about your home ... and about these visions."
A stricken look is the first thing to well up in Famh's eyes as she listens to Cainneach's reply. She clearly had no idea that her words would increase his pain, though she seems to have sensed that pain. In fact, you think she rambled on so long at least partly because she wanted to share comfort as well as seek it, and had hoped her story about Brither Cadfael would do that. She listens in silence, though, and the look on her face grows increasingly thoughtful as he goes on. At the words, "moments to ourselves" she blushes and folds her hands modestly over her pertinent bits, clearly mistaking Cainneach's meaning ... unless of course she's not ... ;)
At any rate, after a deep breath she replies,
"I'm so so sorry! I'm not very used to people, I'm afraid; I just didn't think how much it would hurt you to remember. But maybe ye've given me the why already, though sorry I am I didn't think the pain it would cost you. You went with folk you thought were wrong on a quest you thought was wrong because ye cared about them enough to not want to see them hurt? I don't know that much about the faiths myself actually, it seems half of what I learned as a girl the folk here take to bell, book and candle at and cast it out as heresy, but Old Gods or New, love like that for your companions ... ", she breaks off. "Oh, there I go again. But ... well, ... "
She seems to have something definite to add, but is either unsure how to say it or considering whether she should.
Fergus glances over at the raised voice of Cainneach, recognizing the sorrow twisted in his words. It appears that Valor's group have been through a particularly deadly encounter as of late. The atmosphere of the room felt like a calm between storms or that gulp of air a person struggling in water breaking the surface takes before going down once more. As he wonders if Sir Almeric will want to bolster the group, his attention is drawn to the halfling approaching him.
"Greetings Thatch. I met Sir Almeric in Port Clyster, where I am from, not too long ago. I was looking for a change of scene and Sir Almeric was kind enough to take me under his wing. We have been escorting a caravan of traders and while in Gully's Inn we heard Syr Valor had recently passed through. It seemed more than fortuitous and we have been on your trail since. As to why he has come home, I will let him tell you himself as he loves to recount his own stories!"
Fergus grins for a moment as a flash of a recent memory of Sir Almeric enthusiastically telling him and the caravan one of his many stories from the Crusade runs through his mind. Returning to the present, Fergus' face settles back to a passive expression and asks
"There seems to be a sadness among you and while I do not wish to pry, I would very much like to hear about you and your companions. Only what you feel comfortable to share that is."
Almeric confirms the finer points of the plan with Valor, while others get themselves acquainted (Bulya, you can update me as and when). Inevitably, Almeric's eye is drawn to the exceptional blades, one of which Valor is carrying? "Tell me about the 'steel' cousin. I have seen many good blades, of Crescentium steel and even meteor iron, but none like these."Letting the question hang, Almeric raises his voice to all.
"FRIENDS! Take up your cups and join me in the Capellars Prayer. "To friends new and old. To friends presents and absent. To friends whom have gone before and those whom we have yet to meet. To friends that are masters of their art and those yet to discover their gift. Friends from the beginning and friends to the end." Almeric drains his cup and continues his monologue, visually checking with Valor for acknowledgement.
"Sir Valor has asked me to escort the prisoner, with a written testimony of his guilt, to Baron Aldred at Gorham Castle. There Baron Aldred will hold Court and justice will be met. My brief reunion with my cousin is about to end, as Sir Valor will be returning to Scardic with young Hotspur to inform Lord Dayne of what has come to pass. I would be honoured if you would come with me. All here are welcome to come with me, and as Retainers in the Dayne Household, you would receive the patronage as befits my status and an equal share in any spoils we recover. I hope to prove the trust Sir Valor has placed in me by demonstrating my upmost respect and loyalty to you all. Now lets drink!"
Almeric confirms the finer points of the plan with Valor, while others get themselves acquainted (Bulya, you can update me as and when). Inevitably, Almeric's eye is drawn to the exceptional blades, one of which Valor is carrying? "Tell me about the 'steel' cousin. I have seen many good blades, of Crescentium steel and even meteor iron, but none like these."Letting the question hang, Almeric raises his voice to all.
"FRIENDS! Take up your cups and join me in the Capellars Prayer. "To friends new and old. To friends presents and absent. To friends whom have gone before and those whom we have yet to meet. To friends that are masters of their art and those yet to discover their gift. Friends from the beginning and friends to the end." Almeric drains his cup and continues his monologue, visually checking with Valor for acknowledgement.
"Sir Valor has asked me to escort the prisoner, with a written testimony of his guilt, to Baron Aldred at Gorham Castle. There Baron Aldred will hold Court and justice will be met. My brief reunion with my cousin is about to end, as Sir Valor will be returning to Scardic with young Hotspur to inform Lord Dayne of what has come to pass. I would be honoured if you would come with me. All here are welcome to come with me, and as Retainers in the Dayne Household, you would receive the patronage as befits my status and an equal share in any spoils we recover. I hope to prove the trust Sir Valor has placed in me by demonstrating my upmost respect and loyalty to you all. Now lets drink!"
Sir Valor boggles a little and nudges Hotspur, he never had the gift of the gab that Almeric possessed....and apparently retained .
As those assembled drank and decided their fates Valor turned to Almeric, drawing the long blade and laying it before him, " This blade is taken from the dozen that surrounded the Once and Future King as he slept......an image of my shadow was left behind when I took it up."
He touched the blade almost hesitantly, " It is the finest blade I've ever seen and.......I feel a bond of sorts with it...."
" Thatch and Cainneach both carry one apiece and they each carry two exceptional short blades......I suspect Thatchs is a Selentine era gladius of some regard.....Cainneach carries the blade of his fallen mentor which I suspect was made for Vallandar himself."
He steepled his fingers and gave a wry grin as he watched His Household proudly.....
A stricken look is the first thing to well up in Famh's eyes as she listens to Cainneach's reply. She clearly had no idea that her words would increase his pain, though she seems to have sensed that pain. In fact, you think she rambled on so long at least partly because she wanted to share comfort as well as seek it, and had hoped her story about Brither Cadfael would do that. She listens in silence, though, and the look on her face grows increasingly thoughtful as he goes on. At the words, "moments to ourselves" she blushes and folds her hands modestly over her pertinent bits, clearly mistaking Cainneach's meaning ... unless of course she's not ... ;)
(Cainneach has a Passive WIS (Perception) of 20 so he would definitely notice Famh's blush and cover, but, just for fun, let's see if Cainneach would have understood the meaning. He's a socially awkward fellow ...)
(Damn roller, first was a 18, then a 7. Who knows what it will be when I save it this time.)
Cainneach also blushes, then turns away awkwardly as he believes he may have inadvertently offended the shepherd girl. "I ... I'm sorry, that was not my meaning. It's just that you've seen Dru, maybe you've seen other things ... and I've not met another from Thuland since I fled that place when my clan was wiped out. I only wanted to hear any news you might have from there. Any word of Clan Strachan? We were from the west, near the border with Ereworn. Never safe in the best of times, a nightmare when the battles raged between the clans. And what of your kin?" He lowers his voice and turns back to face Famh, asking with wonder in his voice, "You said something about a changeling? And that you and your mother were run out of your home?"
As he eagerly listens for her reply, the attention of all in the room is drawn to the large knight and his bold prayer and petition to join as a retainer to the House of Dayne. Cainneach is unsure what to make of all this, so he turns back to Famh. "I don't know anything of these newcomers, but the members of Valor's party that I've travelled with are good people. I don't know that I love them, as you say, but I do trust them. They are brave and true, even if they put mistakenly their faith in a greedy man like Father Bretwald."
Thatch looks down as he thinks about his response to Fergus “Aye, it was a long road. What started out as a happy visit to welcome a new babe into the world quickly took a turn as we faced the brigand uprising and even worse, folktales come to life. The white witch, the bear king’s tomb. We lost some along the way, Teryl and Dru.”
He looks up and raises his own glass of cider at Sir Almeric’s toast and speech before continuing his conversation with Fergus. “But we meet others along the way as well. I am glad to accompany the group to Gorham. I am not yet ready to return to Scardic, I have more to offer than tending the stables.”
Almeric confirms the finer points of the plan with Valor, while others get themselves acquainted (Bulya, you can update me as and when). Inevitably, Almeric's eye is drawn to the exceptional blades, one of which Valor is carrying? "Tell me about the 'steel' cousin. I have seen many good blades, of Crescentium steel and even meteor iron, but none like these."Letting the question hang, Almeric raises his voice to all.
"FRIENDS! Take up your cups and join me in the Capellars Prayer. "To friends new and old. To friends presents and absent. To friends whom have gone before and those whom we have yet to meet. To friends that are masters of their art and those yet to discover their gift. Friends from the beginning and friends to the end." Almeric drains his cup and continues his monologue, visually checking with Valor for acknowledgement.
"Sir Valor has asked me to escort the prisoner, with a written testimony of his guilt, to Baron Aldred at Gorham Castle. There Baron Aldred will hold Court and justice will be met. My brief reunion with my cousin is about to end, as Sir Valor will be returning to Scardic with young Hotspur to inform Lord Dayne of what has come to pass. I would be honoured if you would come with me. All here are welcome to come with me, and as Retainers in the Dayne Household, you would receive the patronage as befits my status and an equal share in any spoils we recover. I hope to prove the trust Sir Valor has placed in me by demonstrating my upmost respect and loyalty to you all. Now lets drink!"
A stricken look is the first thing to well up in Famh's eyes as she listens to Cainneach's reply. She clearly had no idea that her words would increase his pain, though she seems to have sensed that pain. In fact, you think she rambled on so long at least partly because she wanted to share comfort as well as seek it, and had hoped her story about Brither Cadfael would do that. She listens in silence, though, and the look on her face grows increasingly thoughtful as he goes on. At the words, "moments to ourselves" she blushes and folds her hands modestly over her pertinent bits, clearly mistaking Cainneach's meaning ... unless of course she's not ... ;)
(Cainneach has a Passive WIS (Perception) of 20 so he would definitely notice Famh's blush and cover, but, just for fun, let's see if Cainneach would have understood the meaning. He's a socially awkward fellow ...)
(Damn roller, first was a 18, then a 7. Who knows what it will be when I save it this time.)
Cainneach also blushes, then turns away awkwardly as he believes he may have inadvertently offended the shepherd girl. "I ... I'm sorry, that was not my meaning. It's just that you've seen Dru, maybe you've seen other things ... and I've not met another from Thuland since I fled that place when my clan was wiped out. I only wanted to hear any news you might have from there. Any word of Clan Strachan? We were from the west, near the border with Ereworn. Never safe in the best of times, a nightmare when the battles raged between the clans. And what of your kin?" He lowers his voice and turns back to face Famh, asking with wonder in his voice, "You said something about a changeling? And that you and your mother were run out of your home?"
As he eagerly listens for her reply, the attention of all in the room is drawn to the large knight and his bold prayer and petition to join as a retainer to the House of Dayne. Cainneach is unsure what to make of all this, so he turns back to Famh. "I don't know anything of these newcomers, but the members of Valor's party that I've travelled with are good people. I don't know that I love them, as you say, but I do trust them. They are brave and true, even if they put mistakenly their faith in a greedy man like Father Bretwald."
Famh blinks, and a strange look of abstraction flits across her face for just a moment. She looks like one who is mazed between past and present, or between memory and waking, or between dream and dream. She seems completely absorbed in her conversation with Cainneach; and yet when Sir Almeric proposes the Capellar's Prayer, her left hand reaches out to take the nearest cup and raise it to drink a single toast before returning it to its rightful owner. Then she shakes her head and seems to call herself back from whatever Otherland she momentarily visited. She smiles at Cainneach once more, if a little sadly.
"I'm so sorry about your clan. I know all too well what it's like to have to flee like a leaf on the winds; but for me it was ... that other ... " She lowers her voice also and speaks gently, not wanting to stir more painful memories. "I'm afraid I've told you most of what I saw in my dreams already, but I did see enough to know your friend might have shared some of the Old Blood with me. 'Changeling' is what the folk o' Scalcombe called my mother, for they swore grandmother forgot to leave out the cream for the house brownie and all the carles and the fisherfolk swear they saw a riding of the faeries that very night carrying her mortal babe over the Black Lake to their old stone circle on the Balordael Moor, and carrying back a faerie babe they swore was my mother. In the east we were, on Lord Erek's manor by Brymstone on the Mergeld Sea. We were all his clan, I suppose, but none of the folk seemed to think a changeling woman and her half-breed bairn much credit to the clan so they never taught me enough to know which clan it was. Anyhow, they blamed every murrain among the beasts and every lean catch in the weirs on us and they drove us out at last near the end of my ninth winter. Since then I've been a leaf on the wind too but ... " Again the troubled look furrows her brow for a moment, before she wipes it away with a visible effort and presses on. "I owe you gheasa now. I stirred the grief and pain in your soul, and I'd want to atone for that alone. But there's more. I'm not quite sure how to say it, or what I believe myself, but sometimes I hear the Old Ones, the faeries, whisper in my mind. And I think they were guiding me to help, that they felt your friend's distress ... especially if you saw the Old Gods take her to their bosom as you say, Brither Cadfael always seemed to think the Old Gods were the saints of the New Faith come to Thuland long ago in the guise that suited Thuland best ... or was it that the saints were the Old Gods, I get a little muddled remembering and I wonder sometimes if he was too ... oh, I am rambling on ... but I do have these visions sometimes, and I felt the dreams as telling me they'd been calling me to help your friend and that I'd come too late. They weren't blaming me exactly, they said indeed I couldn't have come faster on the footpaths I've always had to wander: but there was something, some reason I felt why I was being sent the dreams. I know now.
I'd like to take service with you as a slinger, and ... " she lowers her voice to a whisper. "I think the Old Ones are calling me to the old ways, maybe not the same as your friend followed but with maybe a power of their own. And if these companions of yours are as good as you say, I would be honored to travel with them ... if they'll have me. If you'll have me." She seems completely unaware again of how her own final words might be interpreted. You sense she's rather socially awkward herself ... or perhaps 'only fitfully socially aware' might be a better description.
Hearing Almeric toast, Ori drinks the rest of the cider down. Ori was never given the a cup and yet somehow still ended up with one, well there seemed plenty so hopefully he didn't take someone's only cup. "Cheers to that mate, with that many friends I may need to drink another!" He sets the newly emptied cup back on the table and is just about stand from his seat until one word from Almeric catches his attention. He leans in closer to Tana, "Did he just say you all have a prisoner?" He scans the room (assuming the prisoner isn't in the room with them currently). "Ah, I can't say that I see one of those here. Unless you have some sort a magical bonds that fool ol' Ori. Wouldn't be the slinky one over there that Famh just verbally ambushed is it?" Ori says this in a half joking manner, but after saying it aloud, he starts to realize that might not be that farfetched of an idea and start to wonder if he needs to keep a closer eye on Famh's well being. He didn't know her very well, hardly more then an aquatance really, but she seemed unaccustomed to dealing with most people in town, let alone noble adventurers. He always had a soft spot for the seemly awkward type. Without realizing it he took one arm off the chair back and felt at his waist band for the familiar feel of the note he kept there.
Leaning back a bit he says, "I suppose this prisoner has to do with the doom and gloom feeling of place when we first walked in, ay?"
Fergus spots the serving girl bringing him his cider just in time to toast Sir Almeric. Stretching out to take it, Ori absentmindedly grabs it from her first. Freezing for a moment with social anxiety, Fergus then quickly retracts his hand and tries to laugh it off clearly embarrassed in front of Thatch.
"So, Sir Almeric has been promoted in mere moments. He truly is a great man." he comments to Thatch trying to deflect from his awkwardness in the situation.
"I am sorry for your losses. It seems that you have all been tested both in battle and morale quite harshly. I hope under Sir Almeric's lead that the retinue will continue on and honor those lost in future ventures. I sense a kinship with you, I too have more to offer than the hand life has dealt me.."
His expressions darkens but just for a moment before returning to a more friendly expression and continuing "I would like to accompany you all to Gorham, if you will have me. You say you used to tend stables?"
Tana, hearing the toast, also raises a glass – taking a light sip before returning to its place on the table. It seems that she's not one for drinks of the sort or certain festiveness.
Hearing Almeric toast, Ori drinks the rest of the cider down. Ori was never given the a cup and yet somehow still ended up with one, well there seemed plenty so hopefully he didn't take someone's only cup. "Cheers to that mate, with that many friends I may need to drink another!" He sets the newly emptied cup back on the table and is just about stand from his seat until one word from Almeric catches his attention. He leans in closer to Tana, "Did he just say you all have a prisoner?" He scans the room (assuming the prisoner isn't in the room with them currently). "Ah, I can't say that I see one of those here. Unless you have some sort a magical bonds that fool ol' Ori. Wouldn't be the slinky one over there that Famh just verbally ambushed is it?" Ori says this in a half joking manner, but after saying it aloud, he starts to realize that might not be that farfetched of an idea and start to wonder if he needs to keep a closer eye on Famh's well being. He didn't know her very well, hardly more then an aquatance really, but she seemed unaccustomed to dealing with most people in town, let alone noble adventurers. He always had a soft spot for the seemly awkward type. Without realizing it he took one arm off the chair back and felt at his waist band for the familiar feel of the note he kept there.
Leaning back a bit he says, "I suppose this prisoner has to do with the doom and gloom feeling of place when we first walked in, ay?"
With a quick glance over to the larger newcomer, Tana gives a simple nod of her head to the question. "A rather nasty prisoner in fact. We've been keeping him away for measures of safety."Her voice is relatively quiet in her response, icy eyes drifting around the room for a moment before turning their attention back to Ori. She follows his gaze over to the newly acquainted duo, an eyebrow quirking up in response to the sudden closeness between Famh and 'Dob'.
"Not him, no. He's a relatively new member as well. Still feeling the recent loss of his mentor, unfortunately." There's a brief flicker of guilt in Tana's gaze as she speaks, lingering only briefly before returning to her more steely gaze.
"There have been some unnecessary losses. Though lives were lost we must press on though." She gives a faint sigh, "I'm sure Sir Almeric will be a great leader. And your help, along with anyone else who wishes to join, will be of great assistance. If you do plan on coming along with us that is." She tips a questioning head in Ori's direction before gesturing loosely at Famh. "It would seem that your friend has some show of commitment already."
Famh blinks, and a strange look of abstraction flits across her face for just a moment. She looks like one who is mazed between past and present, or between memory and waking, or between dream and dream. She seems completely absorbed in her conversation with Cainneach; and yet when Sir Almeric proposes the Capellar's Prayer, her left hand reaches out to take the nearest cup and raise it to drink a single toast before returning it to its rightful owner. Then she shakes her head and seems to call herself back from whatever Otherland she momentarily visited. She smiles at Cainneach once more, if a little sadly.
"I'm so sorry about your clan. I know all too well what it's like to have to flee like a leaf on the winds; but for me it was ... that other ... " She lowers her voice also and speaks gently, not wanting to stir more painful memories. "I'm afraid I've told you most of what I saw in my dreams already, but I did see enough to know your friend might have shared some of the Old Blood with me. 'Changeling' is what the folk o' Scalcombe called my mother, for they swore grandmother forgot to leave out the cream for the house brownie and all the carles and the fisherfolk swear they saw a riding of the faeries that very night carrying her mortal babe over the Black Lake to their old stone circle on the Balordael Moor, and carrying back a faerie babe they swore was my mother. In the east we were, on Lord Erek's manor by Brymstone on the Mergeld Sea. We were all his clan, I suppose, but none of the folk seemed to think a changeling woman and her half-breed bairn much credit to the clan so they never taught me enough to know which clan it was. Anyhow, they blamed every murrain among the beasts and every lean catch in the weirs on us and they drove us out at last near the end of my ninth winter. Since then I've been a leaf on the wind too but ... " Again the troubled look furrows her brow for a moment, before she wipes it away with a visible effort and presses on. "I owe you gheasa now. I stirred the grief and pain in your soul, and I'd want to atone for that alone. But there's more. I'm not quite sure how to say it, or what I believe myself, but sometimes I hear the Old Ones, the faeries, whisper in my mind. And I think they were guiding me to help, that they felt your friend's distress ... especially if you saw the Old Gods take her to their bosom as you say, Brither Cadfael always seemed to think the Old Gods were the saints of the New Faith come to Thuland long ago in the guise that suited Thuland best ... or was it that the saints were the Old Gods, I get a little muddled remembering and I wonder sometimes if he was too ... oh, I am rambling on ... but I do have these visions sometimes, and I felt the dreams as telling me they'd been calling me to help your friend and that I'd come too late. They weren't blaming me exactly, they said indeed I couldn't have come faster on the footpaths I've always had to wander: but there was something, some reason I felt why I was being sent the dreams. I know now.
I'd like to take service with you as a slinger, and ... " she lowers her voice to a whisper. "I think the Old Ones are calling me to the old ways, maybe not the same as your friend followed but with maybe a power of their own. And if these companions of yours are as good as you say, I would be honored to travel with them ... if they'll have me. If you'll have me." She seems completely unaware again of how her own final words might be interpreted. You sense she's rather socially awkward herself ... or perhaps 'only fitfully socially aware' might be a better description.
Virtually stricken by the information he has just heard, Cainneach completely misses the remark that Ori made regarding him being the aforementioned prisoner. He rocks back in his chair, unsure how to process all of what Famh has conveyed. "A daughter of the fey, wracked by visions and caught between the Old Gods and the True Faith. And a gheasa?" It had been years since he'd heard that word and, given the age at which he'd heard the adults speak of such things, could now only imagine the gravity of such a pledge. "Perhaps this is why I've felt compelled to stay with these people, rather than return to the forest. Although this girl seems to be as much in need of protection as that which she could possibly provide. For now, at least. Who knows what sort of powers she might one day wield?"
Cainneach had not raised his glass to answer Sir Almeric's toast and instead had simply watched Famh and the others to judge their response. However, he now appears to be more receptive to the idea of continuing to accompany the party, motley bunch though they may be. Cainneach once again addresses Famh, "Your tale is an incredible one, though I do believe it to be true. There's no need to bind yourself to me, I'll follow this Sir Almeric along with you and the others. I'm sure he'll have you as a retainer, it seems that he is perfectly willing to assent to his cousin Sir Valor's request. I will keep watch over you, Famh, for Morkaan and the Old Gods, so that you have no trouble for your heritage, whatever it may be. I think that's what Dru would have wanted, particularly if you two share the same blood."
Sir Valor nodded to Sir Almeric, " I've needs speak more with the Bailiff, you take your rest and get to know your new retinue. Hopefully it will not be too long or boring a talk."
With that he got up and headed off to find Notker.
( I'll probably be winding the evening up in a few hours and moving to the morning. But feel free to ' fill in' any conversations had in the meantime.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
While the other folks in the room, both new and old, make their introductions and exchange pleasantries, Cainneach sits in silence, sipping his cider. He is unused to social interactions in general, particularly with this number of people involved. Moreover, Cainneach is struggling to keep from staring at the young woman. "Famh, a curious name for a curious girl. An interesting story she tells, I'll have to discover more," he thinks to himself. Cainneach then tears his attention away and toward the latest addition, Sir Almeric. "So we are losing Sir Valor and Hotspur, but it seems this man is a combination of both!"
Cainneach is draped in a well-worn cloak, ill-fitted to his lanky frame. His skin is pale, thanks in part to his highland heritage, but also due to the amount of time spent in the near perpetual twilight beneath the forest's canopy. Cainneach's hair is light brown, unkempt and long, tied back in a pony tail. His eyes are a striking green, with a glint of defiance grown from a challenging life. He carries an array of weapons, all of a quality beyond his current means. In particular, a careful observer would note two finely crafted swords jammed awkwardly through his belt. The longsword is similar in design to that carried by Sir Valor and other members of his party.
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
It never hurts to help! ---- PbP: [Rolling Dice] [Tooltips] ---- DDB Content: [Free Adventures] [Encounter of the Week]
Almeric nods in understanding, a grim expression upon his face, as Valor recounts the abridged version of recent events. "So Le Cockup strikes again. He was ever a snivelling little weasel. Too stupid to be of any use. Amazed the fool is still alive." Almeric chuckles. "I came across a Robber Knight of the road. Tried to rob us! Wonder if it was one of Cockups boys?" Almeric pauses to assess the strength of his new command.
"These are an irregular lot and not easily missed. Not sure I am the one to keep them hale, but I will do what is required, as you must also. I hope the Olde Fox has mellowed with age. He couldn't wait to get me packed off on crusade. Not sure how pleased he'll be to see me now, especially carrying bad news." Many people referred to Baron Aldred this way, but never to his face.
Famh smiles back at Tana and seems about to respond to her. She has so far seemed unaware of Cainneach's interest, but as he turns from her to contemplate Sir Almeric a slight murmur escapes his lips, perhaps some fragment of the thoughts roiling within. As soon as she hears his voice , her attention is riveted and she seems to forget about everything else that is going on. She rushes over to him, seeming to barely restrain the urge to seize him by both hands, and starts pouring out words while her eyes gaze into his:
The medallion is carved of time-mottled stag horn. Engraved in the large teardrop-shaped disk and highlighted by the flaking remnants ofgreen verdigris that once may have been copper leaf, is a figure of a coarsely robed monk with a cloud of small birds flittering around his head. Some rest on his shoulders, and one or two have been brave enough to perch on his fingers as he holds his hand up to his own eye level. His eyes are fixed upon the birds and his lips are clearly parted as if he were speaking to them. Those familiar with the saints of the True Faith recognize him as a monk and saint from the lands where the Selentine Empire once held sway, who in folk belief is said to have preached a sermon to the birds.
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
( Give me a Perception and Insight check).
Perception = 19
Insight = 17 Almeric is on fire!
Almeric ran his eyes over the group-
The stableboy was stronger and older than he looked, as was the wild Thulish lad though that one carried grief around him like a shawl. Both of the young women had something 'touched' about them the Thulish one especially so....though she was not one of Valors he believed. The other Igham local was huge and would be an asset in a fight though he seemed to be looking for something he had misplaced. Fergus, he was getting a good feel for his uses....
All in all quite sound though not a trained warrior amongst them they seemed to have aquitted themselves well in their travels with Valor.
His eyes are especially drawn to the blades some of them carry both short and long they are exceptional.
Cainneach stares at the girl as she unleashes upon him a series of words that couldn't possibly be true, a terrible sorrow welling up in his heart once again. Thoughts race through his reeling mind, "Why, how could she possibly know these things? She wasn't there, she wasn't anywhere near that cursed place where Dru was felled by that grim spectre. A bloody shepherd girl, a simple girl, spouting about dreams of me and Dru ..." Cainneach lowers his eyes and examines the token Famh has handed him while attempting to compose himself. Turning it over several times to take in all the details, Cainneach admires the artistry and detail. The birds seem about to wing away from the setting, while he nearly expects the monk to actually speak. But that spark is quickly extinguished and Cainneach's gaze snaps back to the young shepherd girl. He returns the medallion to her, gently, but holds her hands in his after doing so, and when their eyes meet again, Famh can see that Cainneach speaks in earnest. "Famh, that is your name, yes? I don't understand how you could know the things you claim to know. And I'm glad that your god has shown you a lighter path after difficult times. I truly hope that your death, and may it be years and years from now, is marked and mourned as you say. You ask me if I know why Drusilla is dead? Was it meaningless? Did I get an answer? No, Famh, I didn't. And I imagine I won't until I meet her again in the next life and can ask her myself." His voice starts to grow louder as Cainneach forgets himself and proper comportment in their current company. "The lesson we learned in that tomb was that greed would only bring about your destruction. But Dru wasn't greedy, she was selfless. She took me in when I was no more than a burden and a danger to her own survival. And we both stood with these folks on a quest that we knew was foolhardy and believed was profane, because we didn't want to see them perish when we could instead help them. So why? Why is she dead? Why am I alive? I don't know. I don't know, Famh. Your saints and your god, maybe they have answers for you, but Morkaan and whatever Old Gods Dru saw fit to worship ... I know they've taken her back to them, I've seen that with my own eyes. But why? I'm sorry, but I don't know." Cainneach shakes his head, feeling sorry both for himself and for Famh, feeling that he's let her down as well. He releases the girl's hands and concludes quietly, "I can't imagine that's what you wanted to hear ... Perhaps when we have some moments to ourselves, you can speak to me about your home ... and about these visions."
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
It never hurts to help! ---- PbP: [Rolling Dice] [Tooltips] ---- DDB Content: [Free Adventures] [Encounter of the Week]
Thatch places his hand on Cainneach’s shoulder in an awkward attempt to provide some comfort, then steps away from him and the shepherd girl, giving them some privacy in their discussion. He seeks out Fergus, the newcomer who arrived with Sir Almeric by the fire. “I am Thatch. I did not know Syr Valor had another cousin, and here is his in the flesh, straight from battle. Have you traveled with him for long? What brings him back home?”
A stricken look is the first thing to well up in Famh's eyes as she listens to Cainneach's reply. She clearly had no idea that her words would increase his pain, though she seems to have sensed that pain. In fact, you think she rambled on so long at least partly because she wanted to share comfort as well as seek it, and had hoped her story about Brither Cadfael would do that. She listens in silence, though, and the look on her face grows increasingly thoughtful as he goes on. At the words, "moments to ourselves" she blushes and folds her hands modestly over her pertinent bits, clearly mistaking Cainneach's meaning ... unless of course she's not ... ;)
At any rate, after a deep breath she replies,
She seems to have something definite to add, but is either unsure how to say it or considering whether she should.
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
Fergus glances over at the raised voice of Cainneach, recognizing the sorrow twisted in his words. It appears that Valor's group have been through a particularly deadly encounter as of late. The atmosphere of the room felt like a calm between storms or that gulp of air a person struggling in water breaking the surface takes before going down once more. As he wonders if Sir Almeric will want to bolster the group, his attention is drawn to the halfling approaching him.
"Greetings Thatch. I met Sir Almeric in Port Clyster, where I am from, not too long ago. I was looking for a change of scene and Sir Almeric was kind enough to take me under his wing. We have been escorting a caravan of traders and while in Gully's Inn we heard Syr Valor had recently passed through. It seemed more than fortuitous and we have been on your trail since. As to why he has come home, I will let him tell you himself as he loves to recount his own stories!"
Fergus grins for a moment as a flash of a recent memory of Sir Almeric enthusiastically telling him and the caravan one of his many stories from the Crusade runs through his mind. Returning to the present, Fergus' face settles back to a passive expression and asks
"There seems to be a sadness among you and while I do not wish to pry, I would very much like to hear about you and your companions. Only what you feel comfortable to share that is."
Almeric confirms the finer points of the plan with Valor, while others get themselves acquainted (Bulya, you can update me as and when). Inevitably, Almeric's eye is drawn to the exceptional blades, one of which Valor is carrying? "Tell me about the 'steel' cousin. I have seen many good blades, of Crescentium steel and even meteor iron, but none like these." Letting the question hang, Almeric raises his voice to all.
"FRIENDS! Take up your cups and join me in the Capellars Prayer. "To friends new and old. To friends presents and absent. To friends whom have gone before and those whom we have yet to meet. To friends that are masters of their art and those yet to discover their gift. Friends from the beginning and friends to the end." Almeric drains his cup and continues his monologue, visually checking with Valor for acknowledgement.
"Sir Valor has asked me to escort the prisoner, with a written testimony of his guilt, to Baron Aldred at Gorham Castle. There Baron Aldred will hold Court and justice will be met. My brief reunion with my cousin is about to end, as Sir Valor will be returning to Scardic with young Hotspur to inform Lord Dayne of what has come to pass. I would be honoured if you would come with me. All here are welcome to come with me, and as Retainers in the Dayne Household, you would receive the patronage as befits my status and an equal share in any spoils we recover. I hope to prove the trust Sir Valor has placed in me by demonstrating my upmost respect and loyalty to you all. Now lets drink!"
Sir Valor boggles a little and nudges Hotspur, he never had the gift of the gab that Almeric possessed....and apparently retained .
As those assembled drank and decided their fates Valor turned to Almeric, drawing the long blade and laying it before him, " This blade is taken from the dozen that surrounded the Once and Future King as he slept......an image of my shadow was left behind when I took it up."
He touched the blade almost hesitantly, " It is the finest blade I've ever seen and.......I feel a bond of sorts with it...."
" Thatch and Cainneach both carry one apiece and they each carry two exceptional short blades......I suspect Thatchs is a Selentine era gladius of some regard.....Cainneach carries the blade of his fallen mentor which I suspect was made for Vallandar himself."
He steepled his fingers and gave a wry grin as he watched His Household proudly.....
(Cainneach has a Passive WIS (Perception) of 20 so he would definitely notice Famh's blush and cover, but, just for fun, let's see if Cainneach would have understood the meaning. He's a socially awkward fellow ...)
Insight 20
(Damn roller, first was a 18, then a 7. Who knows what it will be when I save it this time.)
Cainneach also blushes, then turns away awkwardly as he believes he may have inadvertently offended the shepherd girl. "I ... I'm sorry, that was not my meaning. It's just that you've seen Dru, maybe you've seen other things ... and I've not met another from Thuland since I fled that place when my clan was wiped out. I only wanted to hear any news you might have from there. Any word of Clan Strachan? We were from the west, near the border with Ereworn. Never safe in the best of times, a nightmare when the battles raged between the clans. And what of your kin?" He lowers his voice and turns back to face Famh, asking with wonder in his voice, "You said something about a changeling? And that you and your mother were run out of your home?"
As he eagerly listens for her reply, the attention of all in the room is drawn to the large knight and his bold prayer and petition to join as a retainer to the House of Dayne. Cainneach is unsure what to make of all this, so he turns back to Famh. "I don't know anything of these newcomers, but the members of Valor's party that I've travelled with are good people. I don't know that I love them, as you say, but I do trust them. They are brave and true, even if they put mistakenly their faith in a greedy man like Father Bretwald."
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
It never hurts to help! ---- PbP: [Rolling Dice] [Tooltips] ---- DDB Content: [Free Adventures] [Encounter of the Week]
Thatch looks down as he thinks about his response to Fergus “Aye, it was a long road. What started out as a happy visit to welcome a new babe into the world quickly took a turn as we faced the brigand uprising and even worse, folktales come to life. The white witch, the bear king’s tomb. We lost some along the way, Teryl and Dru.”
He looks up and raises his own glass of cider at Sir Almeric’s toast and speech before continuing his conversation with Fergus. “But we meet others along the way as well. I am glad to accompany the group to Gorham. I am not yet ready to return to Scardic, I have more to offer than tending the stables.”
Famh blinks, and a strange look of abstraction flits across her face for just a moment. She looks like one who is mazed between past and present, or between memory and waking, or between dream and dream. She seems completely absorbed in her conversation with Cainneach; and yet when Sir Almeric proposes the Capellar's Prayer, her left hand reaches out to take the nearest cup and raise it to drink a single toast before returning it to its rightful owner. Then she shakes her head and seems to call herself back from whatever Otherland she momentarily visited. She smiles at Cainneach once more, if a little sadly.
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
Hearing Almeric toast, Ori drinks the rest of the cider down. Ori was never given the a cup and yet somehow still ended up with one, well there seemed plenty so hopefully he didn't take someone's only cup. "Cheers to that mate, with that many friends I may need to drink another!" He sets the newly emptied cup back on the table and is just about stand from his seat until one word from Almeric catches his attention. He leans in closer to Tana, "Did he just say you all have a prisoner?" He scans the room (assuming the prisoner isn't in the room with them currently). "Ah, I can't say that I see one of those here. Unless you have some sort a magical bonds that fool ol' Ori. Wouldn't be the slinky one over there that Famh just verbally ambushed is it?" Ori says this in a half joking manner, but after saying it aloud, he starts to realize that might not be that farfetched of an idea and start to wonder if he needs to keep a closer eye on Famh's well being. He didn't know her very well, hardly more then an aquatance really, but she seemed unaccustomed to dealing with most people in town, let alone noble adventurers. He always had a soft spot for the seemly awkward type. Without realizing it he took one arm off the chair back and felt at his waist band for the familiar feel of the note he kept there.
Leaning back a bit he says, "I suppose this prisoner has to do with the doom and gloom feeling of place when we first walked in, ay?"
Fergus spots the serving girl bringing him his cider just in time to toast Sir Almeric. Stretching out to take it, Ori absentmindedly grabs it from her first. Freezing for a moment with social anxiety, Fergus then quickly retracts his hand and tries to laugh it off clearly embarrassed in front of Thatch.
"So, Sir Almeric has been promoted in mere moments. He truly is a great man." he comments to Thatch trying to deflect from his awkwardness in the situation.
"I am sorry for your losses. It seems that you have all been tested both in battle and morale quite harshly. I hope under Sir Almeric's lead that the retinue will continue on and honor those lost in future ventures. I sense a kinship with you, I too have more to offer than the hand life has dealt me.."
His expressions darkens but just for a moment before returning to a more friendly expression and continuing "I would like to accompany you all to Gorham, if you will have me. You say you used to tend stables?"
Tana, hearing the toast, also raises a glass – taking a light sip before returning to its place on the table. It seems that she's not one for drinks of the sort or certain festiveness.
With a quick glance over to the larger newcomer, Tana gives a simple nod of her head to the question. "A rather nasty prisoner in fact. We've been keeping him away for measures of safety." Her voice is relatively quiet in her response, icy eyes drifting around the room for a moment before turning their attention back to Ori. She follows his gaze over to the newly acquainted duo, an eyebrow quirking up in response to the sudden closeness between Famh and 'Dob'.
"Not him, no. He's a relatively new member as well. Still feeling the recent loss of his mentor, unfortunately." There's a brief flicker of guilt in Tana's gaze as she speaks, lingering only briefly before returning to her more steely gaze.
"There have been some unnecessary losses. Though lives were lost we must press on though." She gives a faint sigh, "I'm sure Sir Almeric will be a great leader. And your help, along with anyone else who wishes to join, will be of great assistance. If you do plan on coming along with us that is." She tips a questioning head in Ori's direction before gesturing loosely at Famh. "It would seem that your friend has some show of commitment already."
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)
Virtually stricken by the information he has just heard, Cainneach completely misses the remark that Ori made regarding him being the aforementioned prisoner. He rocks back in his chair, unsure how to process all of what Famh has conveyed. "A daughter of the fey, wracked by visions and caught between the Old Gods and the True Faith. And a gheasa?" It had been years since he'd heard that word and, given the age at which he'd heard the adults speak of such things, could now only imagine the gravity of such a pledge. "Perhaps this is why I've felt compelled to stay with these people, rather than return to the forest. Although this girl seems to be as much in need of protection as that which she could possibly provide. For now, at least. Who knows what sort of powers she might one day wield?"
Cainneach had not raised his glass to answer Sir Almeric's toast and instead had simply watched Famh and the others to judge their response. However, he now appears to be more receptive to the idea of continuing to accompany the party, motley bunch though they may be. Cainneach once again addresses Famh, "Your tale is an incredible one, though I do believe it to be true. There's no need to bind yourself to me, I'll follow this Sir Almeric along with you and the others. I'm sure he'll have you as a retainer, it seems that he is perfectly willing to assent to his cousin Sir Valor's request. I will keep watch over you, Famh, for Morkaan and the Old Gods, so that you have no trouble for your heritage, whatever it may be. I think that's what Dru would have wanted, particularly if you two share the same blood."
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
It never hurts to help! ---- PbP: [Rolling Dice] [Tooltips] ---- DDB Content: [Free Adventures] [Encounter of the Week]
Sir Valor nodded to Sir Almeric, " I've needs speak more with the Bailiff, you take your rest and get to know your new retinue. Hopefully it will not be too long or boring a talk."
With that he got up and headed off to find Notker.
( I'll probably be winding the evening up in a few hours and moving to the morning. But feel free to ' fill in' any conversations had in the meantime.)