!Ah, Luce, you may say you are not much, but when trouble came you were one of those who helped to deal with it. That says much about your character, even if you remain modest about it." Sigvald looks at the others. "And greetings to you, sirs. An honour to meet heroes such as yourselves."
Shyly sticking her head up over her drink she adds; "Weren't really owt, we just went wi' brace of guards and managed t' get me brother and some of t' halflings back from worshippers of ...Him." Luce remains hunched in her seat slightly.
" 'Lo Mr Steelshod, Mr Caine. I am Luce Winterscliffe. Good to see you? Friends of Mr Brewerson?" she looks around at the table, with the mugs scattered across it. "Enough drinks?"
"I wouldn't go that far, Sir Kendall. But my new companions are indeed convivial." He turns to Luce. "Sir Kendall is a carl high in the esteem of House Brewerson, a doughty fighter and as chivalrous as any knight of which the troubadors may sing. Even you, good sir," he nods to Sigvard.
"You flatter me, Vondal." The knight nods respectfully, "Although I have not garnered much of what adventure you were a part of, I have a request." He leans forward, folding his hands again, "As you have no military bearing, I ask that you consider contacting me if I am within the area, it would not do be without a stout shield if you can help it. That said..." He pauses, "I shall be off in a day or three, since the Progress has started. Do keep my offer of service in mind, if you would."
As you chat among yourselves, you might like to decide what you're going to do. Basic choices are go and find the Progress, investigate the goblins, or something else entirely you haven't told me about yet.
Luce is happy either way, The Progress would interest her because of the capriciousness of the Fey - although he is a bit afeared about making a fool of herself. The Goblins would be fun and mischevious.
"I t'were thinking that I need t' clean the cart & I were going to make a pie, for tomorrow. Any preferences?"
I am fine with investigating the Progress, but moreso to ensure the area is secure, so in theory the goblins will interest Kendall more, I'll happily go with majority vote.
Luce blushes as she remembers the pie; it wasn't so much that the crust was black (although it was) or the cold, damp, undercooked centre (although it was), but rather the combination of the two that unsettled her stomach. "I'll...I'll....bake you in a pie, Mr Farnham." Luce retorts hesistantly.
Turning round to look at the rest, "What? I can cook. (Sort of?)"
That was a question, I was wondering about. In the Mikelmerck setting, what do they use for flour? Cause I see baking being very important, but grains for flour aren't prevalent in the rolling hills.
"Do you need help with your cart?" Sigvard sounds genuinely happy to help. "Or with the cooking, though I have more experience with fish, which I think is not likely to be common in this area. I miss lutefisk."
Barley? That's perhaps likely, though some varieties of wheat are adapted to highland regions.
Awesome film, one of my Top 20. Off out now to see the Olympic flame being run past our office.
"Well, it's not like I cannot cook. It's just experimental! Well fish, t' some in t' high lakes and some streams. Tickled a couple in me time." Luce smiles at Sigvards offer. "Reet kind o' thee, thought I might be goin' ont' some kinda adventure again." she lowers her voice. "After last 'un, there were a bit o' ooze from t' bodies."
Trying to change her tune she continues her words upbeat; "Know of any adventure? I know t' land."
"Caine speaks the truth. One of the reasons I arrived here was to inquire of any wrongdoings." With an amused grunt, he adds "and I find I was beaten to the punch. I find it unusual, Miss, that you intend to seek out trouble...what is your trade?"
Despite Caines' dour words Luce enthusiasm is not quelled; "From tone of it, take it thee seen some. I didn't like t' pain or worrying bout Our Kyle, but the excitement and welcome home made up for it."
However Luce shrugs at the dwarves question; "errr... I am a sheep farmer, well Old Jarl is. Helping people owt seems like a fine idea. Truth be told, I know not where adventure comes from. I 'eard some goblins t' North are disputing a new King. And t' Progress is making 'is rounds ag'in."
Wow, the flame was very British, lots of waiting around. Then a quite impressive transistion from one torch to the next, but very brief.
The way Caine spoke, a few well placed words with an inferred meaning reminded Luce of her father, Old Jarl, as well as most of the men of the Dales. This of course means that the women, at least some tend to pick up the slack whilst interpreting.
"Haven't had ale in a while, lassie. They're the first to run out during a siege, you understand." Caine takes a long swallow. "Ah, that washed the dust of the road."
Luce bites her lip and you see her slightly pointed teeth. "I ain't one to gossip." she looks behind her to the farmer that commented earlier, a pointed look on her face.
Turning back she continues; "Truth be told, owt I know is very happenstance and I don't know exactly what t' goblins are doing. Or t' Progress doings."
"Grand t' bar-keep, does a bit o' brewing himself, may not be dwarf-made, but ain't bad. Actually most people, have a still, don't get many deliveries up here." Luce says whilst taking a sip of her sloe gin.
Think I have had their Imperial Russian Stout before.
Luce looks towards the doors and the rolling hills beyond; "Aye, not many visitors and new faces round these parts. Despite t' beautiful land, it's a bit o' a hike up here. So we hafta make do w' wha' we got."(Which apparently is not whole words)
Torch goes past front door tomorrow at lunchtime. Bird's eye view from bedroom window.
Re the grain. Mostly barley, but some hardy wheat. There are strips of arable land down by the Roosh, but they flood easily.
As the talk turns to the nature of adventure and the advisability or otherwise of seeking it out, Mr Farnham chimes in again.
"No offence, Luce, but if tha's heading to hills, could do worse than check out goblin 'ole. Not that I mind goblins, but they can be reet pesky."
Sigvard is already outside making the better acquaintance of Betsy and proving adept at harnessing the cart. Unwilling to stay long inside, Varis is already waiting, sitting quietly and scanning the raking Dales above Downholme.
"I ain't reet seen owt of t' blighters. Tell a lie, I once saw a shadow ont' Moor, when I was lookin' out for t' flock. Think it were one of 'em, or a..." Luce makes a quick superstitious symbol; "fey."
"Mr Farnham, where's they to be found like? Old Jarl said in t' earth and under rocks. Where tis t' goblin 'ole." She quietly hums the old tune to herself, glad Sigvald cannot hear her.
She tilts her head and a wave of curls falls into her eyes. "Well, I won't say dispose of, at least find out what's up w' t' blighters."
"How's about we get, set off in t' morning. I'll get some provisions together, wheels of cheese, smoked rabbit... tha' sorta thing." Luce asks. "Then we can set off t' North see t' goblins sort them owt and head t' Progress."
Luce's brow creases as she thinks; "Goblins... hmm.... they must like gobbling stuff. Betsy!! No, not Betsy." she exclaims.
"How's about we go t' farmsteads up there. They'll know, t'otherwise we could take t' cart up thar. And if they might ambush it if we be traders." Luce pauses; "'Eck we could do a bit o' trading."
"Miss Luce, your courage in volunteering for such a charge is noted, and commended, but I would not ask you need put yourself at risk. Merely being a guide would suffice, if you would have it."
'Well, I weren't meaning it to sound quite so brave. But no point, disillusioning t' Knight.' Luce thinks as she sips her drink.
"What doest t'all think then. Head t' North in t' morn? I also thought I might see Mrs Armitage, 'bout any 'ther Rituals. Any suggestions what?" Luce asks.
Following Mr Farnham's rather vague directions takes you high up the dale. Night is falling as you reach the top and it with some relief that you see a lonely farmhouse with dimly lit windows. Roused by the unaccustomed noise of a cart approaching late at night, the owner shambles onto the road and on seeing Varis offers you a barn for the night.
"Knows Wolfsbane, I does. Friends of his is vouched for. Bide here while I warn ghost."
Luce is pleased by the cleanliness of Sigvald's efforts. The exertions of the evening are a welcome relief after the morning sluggardliness. The strong wind whips up her hair as they take to the rising ground.
"Perhaps he has a ghost on his farm. I have never spoken to one myself, but I know those who have. An unfulfilled wyrd, well, that is a thing which can cause people to remain after their time." Sigvald manages to look a little melancholy, before cheering up. "Or perhaps he calls his dog, or his cat, or his cow, Ghost, as you say."
Luce puts her hand on the crook of Sigvard's arm reassuringly. "Aye, I 'eard those tales too." Luce moves over to Betsy checking her hooves and the Bridle as well as the rest of the cart hopefully.
Rev:
Luce would've gone to see Jangi, see if he wants anything (goods) delivering to the North whilst they are at it. Just in case, as Luce is a helpful, practical soul.
'In my experiences, as in yours I am sure; the more rural people of the land tend to tap into those more primal parts of nature, and meet out a harmony with them, still caution is advised." Kendall advises solemnly, from his saddle.
At Kendalls' words Luce smiles inwardly to herself; 'Aye, some of us locals are more in tune with the Land and it's spirits. Isn't that right beastie?' She seems to look into the darkness of the night.
"Aye, true." she says to Kendall. Luce looks around to see if there is a barn, or shed that he keeps his sheep in.
