|
'I am leaving, one way or another. Help me and I will do all in my power to relate how you assisted me. Perhaps my words will avail you at your trial.'
'Trial?' the man answers, with a sneer, 'I think you overestimate both our chances... I somehow doubt those fur-clad characters who brought you in here share your "evolved" sense of justice...'
'If you are going to help, you can start by helping me search this cell.'
'I'm guessing you've never heard the one about bees, honey, and vinegar, right? But since you asked so nicely...'
Still, the man makes a half-hearted effort to examine the cell... although neither of you manage to turn up much - the cell's old, and hasn't been in use for some time, but well made and well-maintained for all that. The main room beyond, with rack and an assortment of other ghastly odds and ends, is likewise well-maintained, if unused during Baron Otto's reign. You do notice, however, that the bodies of the two dead Redwyrm guards have just been left where they dropped, by the stairs leading up...
'What's the point of all this? asks your cellmate after a while, 'There's nowhere to go even if we get out of this cell... or had you forgot we're in a castle here? Even those barbarians are bound to have posted some guards. Do you even know how many there are? Tell me you have a plan beyond just threatening me some more...'
Now that he mentions it, you do recall that the castle has a postern gate, kept secret from all but the Baron's family and most trusted men (like yourself), located behind a secret door in the storage room of the cellars, one floor above you...
"Ailith? the blind one with Clarius?! She's a dragon?!"
'A dragon? No,' murmurs Baroness Hilda, still dazed by recent events, 'her family name is Whitedragon, but that's just a name... their coat-of-arms... at least I thought it was... but it was all before my time here, back when the old Baron died and Otto became... Oh, Otto...' overcome by emotion she breaks down to sobbing...
It appears that Fanndís and Loki are the two bear-sized white wolves which led Zurladew, Beatrix and Rebecca out of the woods, as they respond to Adémar's request by padding closer to the jester and the Ladies...
'See?' the female wolf - Fanndís - says, 'we're all good friends, really. Now be a good Master Mage, and let us take our Lord his prize...' she eyes Lady Rebecca as she speaks...
'Yes,' agrees Loki - the male wolf, 'let's try to avoid any unpleasantness, shall we?'
As Jaymin strides over, the white wolves turn cautiously towards him...
"I would speak with ... with Baroness Rebecca alone."
Fanndís and Loki exchange a glance, then Fanndís pads a step towards the knight,
'You can speak freely in front of us,' she suggests, her tone far too friendly to be reassuring... 'just ask your little Master Mage - he trusts us, I'm sure...'
Hearing Jaymin's words to the wolves, Baroness Hilda clutches Aydan's arm again, her tears forgotten for the moment as her eyes widen and dart between Rebecca and Adémar...
'By the gods!' she whispers, 'He wants to legitimise his claim! This is no random attack - it's been planned in great detail. There are enough nobles here at the tournament to back this Adémar, if pressed, that the Emperor will rather accept the change of Baron than risk resources to stop it!'
Aydan's eyes move from one thing to another, From Hilda, to Ademar, to the Baron... His heart catches and he wills himself not to throw up. To Rebecca, The Last family I have... He looks to the Baroness furtively,
"I beg to differ. With the...death, of the Baron, Lady Rebecca becomes the ruler of this realm, and as such, all matters discussed before her Privy Council must, by law, be made in confidence. So back off. Failure to do so would be in violation of the law, a penalty of death."
Bluff (yes, a paladin using the Bluff skill):
|
|
The two bear-sized white wolves eye Zurladew with suspicion as he seems to mutter under his breath... but are far too concerned with the presence of the fully armed and armoured Garrett and Jaymin to pay even the 'Master Mage' too much attention...
"I beg to differ. With the...death, of the Baron, Lady Rebecca becomes the ruler of this realm, and as such, all matters discussed before her Privy Council must, by law, be made in confidence. So back off. Failure to do so would be in violation of the law, a penalty of death."
Fanndís sighs,
'Human politics bore me so quickly,' she moans. Loki glances towards her,
'Everything bores you quickly, my dearest - you are a mercurial creature at heart.'
'Ah yes,' the female wolf bears her teeth and growls a little in the back of her throat... possible it's meant to be a laugh... as she replies, 'but that is why you love me, isn't it?'
As the wolves converse, Lady Rebecca looks over to Zurladew, her eyes red from tears, and her complexion pale. Slowly, she appears to come back to her senses as she nervously shakes her head, and mutters a reply to the jester's message,
'We can't go to the castle - it's obviously lost to us: there are no guards, and inside the walls will be a killing ground if the enemy control it!'
Meanwhile, Baroness Hilda leans close to Aydan...
Turning towards the castle, the Baroness takes a deep, steadying, breath and stands a little straighter,
'I must remain' she decalres, 'to try to mitigate the damage this usurper may do to our people. He seems to care about Taldan laws and traditions... at least as far as it advances his cause. I doubt he'll harm me, as Baroness. I'm not the prize Rebecca is, but keeping me alive will aid his claims to legitimacy, at least a little, whereas killing me would bring my own father's forces, and those of his allies, down on this Adémar's head. Now, as soon as you have an opening, you must take Rebecca and run!'
As Zurladew utters his first cantrip, a loud roaring can be heard, seemingly coming from somewhere over the woods... The two white wolves cease their talk as their ears pick up, they quickly face the noise, and nervously pad back a pace or two...
On the battlements Adémar can be seen drawing the impressive greatsword slung across his back as he peers out over the woods... the weapon's blade seems to glisten with an icy frost...
Once the jester completes his following spell, the two wolves howl and back off. Adémar, on the other hand, bellows as the flight of crimson dragons soars into view across the woods...
'Impossible! She can't be that powerful! Not yet!'
... before leaping from the top of the curtain wall, leathery draconic wings unfurling from the man's back, carrying him swiftly towards the onrushing 'threat'...
"Where to? We need allies," Jaymin whispers. His eyes brighten. "The Viscount! Lady Rebecca, we need fly to the Viscount of Thevia. He is an honourable man."
Then the dragons roar, Aydan looks to the sky in confusion, before snapping back to Lady Hilda, nodding once to her..."
He turns and pushes into a full on sprint towards Lady Rebecca, Zurdalew, Jaymin, Beatrix and Garrett. At the top of his lungs he screams, RUN!!! clutching his sword in hand as he bolts towards them.
Whatever happens, Beatrix stays with Rebecca.
|
Zurladew looks bemusedly at Aydan as he runs full tilt towards them. Shaking his head, he turns back towards Rebecca, taking advantage of the confusion to talk plainly.
"Milady, we have seconds in which to run. If you've a better idea than using the castle as cover to gather our thoughts, you have to speak up now." He looks at all of the gathered folk. "That goes for all of you. We need our wits about us. If not to the castle, where do we run to gather them?"
|
|
As the dragons swoop in overhead, and Adémar flies to intercept them, Aydan sprints towards the others, shouting for them to run!
"Where to? We need allies... The Viscount! Lady Rebecca, we need fly to the Viscount of Thevia. He is an honourable man."
"Milady, we have seconds in which to run. If you've a better idea than using the castle as cover to gather our thoughts, you have to speak up now... That goes for all of you. We need our wits about us. If not to the castle, where do we run to gather them?"
'To the woods!' answers Lady Rebecca, starting off that direction herself, 'Aydan must know them better than these invaders! We need to lose them before we decide what else to do!'
Meanwhile, Baroness Hilda starts towards the panicing crowds who accompanied you, calling for calm... and trying to get the attention of Adémar and the two white wolves as she does so...
The dungeons of castle Redwyrm are the level below even the cellar: a dank, dark and chill place where no sunlight ever reaches, and only the scurring rats are truly at home... The stairs down from the cellar lead first into a guard room, where there are usually two men-at-arms on duty, and from there into the central interogation chamber - surrounded by six cells, of varying sizes, as well as a storage room for the required equipment of such an unpleasant establishment.
Various torches held in brackets around the walls of the central chamber illuminate hanging chains, a nasty-looking rack, and several variations of pillories and stocks - most seldom used during Otto's reign as Baron. Prisoners rarely grace the dungeons these days, apart from the occasional drunkard or poacher. A small grate in the middle of the central chamber's floor is testiment to less friendly times - the sole entrance to the castle's oubliette: a thirty foot deep chamber with steeply sloping sides, and metal spikes covering its floor, reserved as a punishment for the most hated of the castle Lord's enemies, where it's impossible to stretch out to sleep, the waste and filth of the rest of the dungeon trickles down, and one has to be lowered by rope (or thrown!) down...
Clarius and his still-nameless cellmate share one of the six cells surrounding the central chamber. The door is a heavy grate of riveted metal strips with a sturdy lock. The two dead guards are by the stairs up to the cellar, and thus unreachable until and unless the pair of jailbirds somehow get out of their cell - they're the two guards who were left on duty down here, not the two Clarius encountered earlier. None of the other cells are occupied. Clarius knows that the castle's larder, wine cellar, and general storage chamber are located in the cellars the floor above them - the postern gate is accessable via a secret door in the storage chamber. There aren't any weapons or armour in there, as they're kept in the much more secure first and second level armories above, although the dungeon storage room may possibly contain some old torture impliments which could be put to use as makeshift weapons... but it's probably better to just strip the armour and weaponry from the two dead guards if it comes to that.
Searching has revealed no simple way out of the cell (which, in a way, is good to know...).
|
|
Clarius strikes the door in frustration upon finishing his thorough search of the cell. 'Damn! We must find a way out of here. People are dying!' The forester knight looks to his fellow prisoner. 'How is it that they are killing every guard, yet you and I are left alive? Did they say anything when they brought me down here?'
|
|
'Those fellows,' he gestures towards the two dead guards, 'tried to stand up to the big blue-haired barbarians when they came down here, dragging you with them... Me, I was locked in here so probably not worth killing. I guess it's a pity that those blue-haired brutes haven't heard of the whole "enemy of my enemy" thing, or they may have let me out...' shaking his head he glances across to you, '... You though, I'm not sure why they didn't finish you off. They weren't talking Taldan to each other but something I don't speak... although it may have been some dialect of the giant language? I'm really not sure. It seemed like they were under orders, but for all that they weren't overly concerned with your general health, since they just threw you in here and left. I guess the key to this cell was the only one the guards had on them at the time, which is why I have the pleasure of your company... but they took that with them too.'
Leaning against the cell wall, arms folded across his chest, your fellow prisoner stares at you for a few moments, then sighs again,
'Look, I don't know what you think is going on here, but it appears to be something pretty big. I'm a smith by trade - a damn good one too - I make armour and weapons of the best quality, and have spent more than my fair share of time around the so-called "nobility" and their armies. You know what allows the nobles to have armies? It's not divine right, or sheer nobility, or superior breeding, or the faith or loyalty of their men; it's money. Money to pay for weapons and armour and horses. Money for food and supplies. Money to bolster the ranks with mercenaries. That's what fuels an army, and whoever is in charge of this lot has a great deal of money.'
'You saw their armour, right?,' the man waves his had across his own chest as he explains, 'Do you know what that was made of? Mithral. The stuff's worth about five-hundred gold coins a pound, ten times as much as gold itself... and whoever is in charge of these fellows is outfitting his footsoldiers with mithral armour. A couple of years back there were rumours of raw mithral ore turning up in the markets of Yanmass to the east of here. Most believed it came via trade to the east, but some thought it traced back to the Fog Peaks - sold in the markets by some unsavoury brigand types from these parts. The dwarven miners who work in the north of this Barony have been searching for rumoured veins of mithral in the Fog Peaks for years... centuries even... it's become something of a running joke. The armour those blue-haired brutes were wearing was mithral alright, but it certainly wasn't crafted to a dwarven standard. My guess is whoever is behind these barbarians has found him... or her... self a mithral mine in the Fog Peaks. Considering Galt is within spitting distance, just across the mountains, and pretty much a breeding ground for mercenary armies, if they've secured passage through the Fog Peaks as well... well, whoever is in charge here will have as much of an army as they can afford... and I'm guessing they can afford quite a bit.'
Standing up straight, the smith looks you in the eyes,
'So I ask again - even if we could get out of here, what's the point? Unless you have a way for us to avoid getting slaughtered by an army of barbarians and mercenaries, then it's probably safer to just wait it out in here, and hope they don't forget to feed us...'
"To the forest, then," Sir Jaymin agrees. He let's out his Patrans-summoning whistle, hoping the horse is free to come (he'll worry about retrieving his barding later...I get the feeling this campaign is about to become King Arthur meets Robin Hood) and he leads the way to the forest, right behind Ayden.
"Has anybody seen Sir Clarius?"
Watching the baroness' actions, Jaymin comments, "Wow! I never would have forseen that. I may just have to raise my opinion of her Ladyship about a thousandfold. She is buying us time, but we'll have to come back for her as soon as Lady Rebecca is safe, if she lives."
Reaching the group, Aydan nods to Jaymin, but his eyes look to Rebecca, "Ou... Your stepmother does her duty for the Barony and her family. You must do the same. Come on, I'm good but Wolves aren't exactly poor at tracking."
Aydan turns towards the woods, cursing himself for his slip up. When they had a moment to breathe, he would need to tell Rebecca; but now was certainly not the time.
Beatrix follows the group into the woods, now is not the time to argue over plans of action.
|
|
Under cover of Zurladew's and the Baroness's distractions, the group make a dash for the woods, even as Jaymin's whistle drifts loud and clear across the open ground towards where the horses where stabled for the tourney...
With mulch underfoot and the sunlight through the canopy dapplng the interior with patches of light and dark, the initial sprint is nothing less than a mad rush to gain as much ground as possible on the inevitable pursuers. It's quickly evident that both Zurladew's shorter stride, and the knight's heavy armour, are slowing the group considerably... Briefly pausing as these slower members of the group catch up, back against a tree as she gulps in breaths, Rebecca calls to Aydan,
'These are your woods, Forester! Where do we go?'
|
|
Clarius turns quickly at the man's words. 'Only two? That's not an army. I faced three of them and I was already badly wounded. One of them fell to me in a single attack.'
He looks long and hard at the other prisoner. Finally, he seems to come to a decision. 'Can one of your creatures get this door open?'
Aydan stops for a moment, his eyes moving over the woods in front of them. In his minds eye he sees all the trails and paths, the hills and valleys, clumps and cosps of trees. "There's a hermit to the southwest, Mother Maggie, We'll find shelter there." Sheathing his sword, Aydan kneels to his boot and draws the dagger he typically would use for skinning animals or other utilitarian tasks. Flipping the knife so he holds the blade, he offers the weapon to Rebecca. "Cut your dresses just above the knees. You'll be able to move freely then. I'm sorry but you're going to get scraped up. Gentlmen," he looks to Garrett and Jaymin, "Your armor will slow you down, defense or movement I leave the choice to you. Let's go."
Giving the girls a moment to cut their gowns if they choose, Aydan sets off. Leading the party in an easterly direction - taking them up a fairly wide and well seen path, "Don't worry about the tracks!" he calls back. The hill crests at a small cliffside, that drops maybe thirty feet with the path curving to the north. Trees seeming to form a wall to the south. Aydan holds up a hand and calls to hold.
Moving the the treeline at the south, He pushes back a number of low branches and scrubs, motioning for the group to enter. Once they have, he backtracks - going to the edge of the cliff and scuffing the ground, scraping his feet backwards on the edge to give the impression of someone trying to freeclimb down - and wished that he had his gear so he could leave his rope and grapple as a false trail.
With that done he joins Rebecca and the others on the hidden path, slowing the pace of the trek to step carefully along the narrrow and winding path littered with roots and ditches. Leading them down to a large stream that runs from east to west, Aydan tosses a wry but humorless smile over his shoulder, "Hope none of you are afraid of water. There's no scent to follow this way." and wades into the stream - the water rising to his waist - and follows the stream back towards the west...
|
|
'Only two? That's not an army. I faced three of them and I was already badly wounded. One of them fell to me in a single attack.'
'Right,' the smith agrees, 'the army would be the rest of them occupying your Lord's castle and pillaging his tournament...'
'Can one of your creatures get this door open?'
Folding his arms across his chest the smith sneers,
'Not without a good reason to risk doing so, no.'
"Armour or no, we're not outrunning wolves, and if they do catch up, armour may be what keeps us alive."
|
|
Sir Clarius rolls his eyes while slowly shaking his head at the smith's response. 'What do you think is the best case scenario for you? They come down here, free you, give you a big bag of gold and send you on your way? Maybe it's that they will remember to come down here and feed you? You might be lucky enough to have them come down and just kill you straight away instead of leaving you to starve to death.'
His face lights up and he continues, 'Oh, I know! You can tell them you're a renowned smith who can manufacture arms and armour for them.'
Pausing for just a second to let him think it through he adds, 'Then again they apparently already have smiths who are skilled working with rare metals such as mithral and enough of those highly skilled smiths to outfit an army. According to you, they also are ransacking the tournament, so they are probably set up for months, if not years, to come.'
Sir Clarius pins him with his stare. 'Of course, you could always just summon up some monsters to get you out of here and fight through all of the army to the courtyard where another creature can fly you away. That worked out really well for you last time. I will do you the courtesy of disabusing you of that notion. They, too, have bowmen.'
Leaning against the opposite wall, Clarius folds his arms over his chest. 'I know how to leave quietly. Once we are outside, you are free to go whither thou will. If you decide not to set out on your own, I will pledge myself as your liege until such time as we can join up with the baron and the rest of his retinue, where you may choose to leave before we encounter them or pledge yourself to him; keep in mind he may still decide to dispense justice for the assault upon his daughter. I leave it up to you.'
Beatrix happily cuts off her dress if a knife is offered to her, ladies do not carry cutlery to a tourney.
Aydan smirks wryly at Jaymin and Garrett's answer, expecting nothing else from the two in all honesty. "You know you two always make my life more dificult..." and leads them down the intended path.
|
|
"Cut your dresses just above the knees. You'll be able to move freely then..."
'The Baroness will kill me...' mutters Rebecca... then pauses, realising what she's said, and turns pale, '... I didn't mean it like that!' she insists, grabbing the dagger offered by Aydan and hacking at the material of her dress, '... I... I wasn't thinking, I...' she trails off as she passes the dagger on to Beatrix...
The group hurry on after Aydan, the knights in full harness and Zurladew with his shorter stature both slowing the pace somewhat... The sound of wolves crying to each other can be heard as the forester leads the way back down the hidden path, and as the group plunge into the icy water (Zurladew having a hard time even keeping his head above the surface...) the creature's howls sound as if they're getting closer...
'You'll be my "liege" will you? And expect me to thank you for the privilege no doubt! Phah!' he spits on the floor between you, 'I'd rather take my chances with the barbarian dogs than have your oppressor's boot against my neck! To think I bothered reviving you! Maybe this time I'll learn that all you knights and nobles are nothing but egomaniacal tyrants who think its their right to treat the rest of us - the hard working, common people - as their personal slaves! You disgust me, you putrid peace of filth!'
"If it looks like we are to be overtaken, Sir Garrett and I will buy time for you to get the ladies to safety," Sir Jaymin says to Ayden. "If we survive, you may have to come back for us."
Stealth check:
The Howling's a good sign, it means they don't know where we are." He stops and claps a hand on Jaymin's shoulder. "Besides, all it would serve is to kill the two of you and let them know they're on the right trail."
thinking a moment, Aydan steps towards Rebecca and - without so much as asking, tears a strip from her torn dress and shoves it into the his bracer. Taking the same dagger he reaches up and cuts a handful of the girl's hair. Smiling warmly he says, "When this is done we need to talk, so keep yourself alive and I'll do the same." Stepping back he motions the way they've been going down the stream. "There's a small cave on the southern side about half of a mile down the river. I want all of you to cover yourselves in mud from this stream, I mean covered, and make for that cave. I'll double back and meet you there." He turns to head back the way he came before pausing a moment,
"If by some chance I'm not back by sun-up then head south. Don't go at night, and no fires."
With a final nod, Aydan heads back the way they come. running up the stream at least halfway before exiting on the northern bank and making his way back towards the castle. As he goes he starts to toss Rebecca's hair away, scattering it to the winds. he smashes through brush and branches, before ducking down a side path, stepping lightly to avoid making tracks on this part of his path...
Sir Jaymin, knight of the realm, the body of his liege lord probably still warm, picks up a large handful of mud and tosses it squarely into the back of Sir Garrett's pristine armor. "The man said covered, although do you suppose he has any idea how hard it's going to be to get the mud out of this armor when we reach safety?"
|
|
Sir Clarius sputters at the vehemence of the other prisoner's words. 'Oppressor?! My boot on your neck?! Did I offer to lead you out of here only if you submitted to me? Did I not promise that I would not try to stop you setting out on your own once we are clear of the keep?!' Face and neck blooming red, Clarius begins to tremble with rage. 'I offered you my continued protection should you want it; my sword, and if the moment comes, my life to keep you safe and you have the audacity to spit it back at me! It is no wonder that every knight and other noble has treated you so poorly. You are an insolent cur that would bite at any hand extended in friendship and help! If the peers of this realm were as cruel as you cry, you would have been put down years ago.'
|
|
As the group make their way down the stream, the two knights splashing up a storm as they force their way through, clad in full armour, the mocking voice of Fanndís, the female wolf, drifts across the woods (from maybe a hundred feet or so away),
'I can hear you, little men, squeaking and clanking and splashing in your furs of tin... I can hear you... and soon I shall catch you, and freeze you, and take my time chipping away your metal, so that I may feast on the soft, tender, treats within...'
Rebecca lets slip a small yelp as Aydan rips at her dress , clamping both hands over her mouth to try to muffle the sound, even as the forester cuts some of her distinctive red hair...
'What's that?' the voice of Fanndís sounds a little closer now, 'Was that my Lord's blushing bride I hear? Or maybe the other one... the one that stinks of the fey...'
As Aydan slips from the stream and disappears, the she-wolf's taunts continue,
'The little Master Mage I fear I shall swallow whole... Loki wouldn't approve of such a lack of manners, but sometimes I like a little something just for me... Besides the rest of you will make a fine meal once I've...' her voice trails off for a few moments... Then she speaks once more, her tone excited, 'There you are, Lady Rebecca! I wonder, do you smell as sweet to your husband-to-be? You won't escape now!'
With that, the she-wolf howls and... sounds as if she's bounding off in the opposite direction!
Lady Rebecca waits silent with the others for a good long while, trying to tell if the she-wolf is really gone or not... but the only sound appears to the the gentle rustle of the breeze in the leaves, and the constant gurgle of the chill stream...
Finally Rebecca blinks, letting out a breath she didn't seem to know she was holding. Quickly scooping up mud, she does as Aydan commanded, covering herself, then heads downstream towards the cave...
Job done, you double back to meet up with the others...
Reaching the small cave Aydan mentioned, it turns out to be a shallow, dank, thing with old tree roots winding their way through it, barely large enough for one or two people to shelter in... But not long after, the forester himself makes an appearance. Heedless of her mud-caked appearance, Rebecca flings her arms round Aydan's neck,
'You lost them?' she asks...
"Politics and proper lineages be damned. Your father would be mighty proud of you right now, and rightly so." He claps the forester on the shoulder.
'You lost them?' she asks...
Laughing in spite of himself, Aydan wraps his arms around Rebecca and hugs her fiercely - pulling back a bit he smiles, "These may be your family's lands, but they're my woods." he reaches up and ruffles her hair. "I must say, I am absolutely a rotten barber..."
"Politics and proper lineages be damned. Your father would be mighty proud of you right now, and rightly so."
Thoughts of the Baron, falling from the battlements, the heart rending, finality of the sound of his impact... He smiles to Jaymin, this one much sadder. "I hope so sir... I truly do."
Taking a breath and nodding, as much to himself as the others, He breaks away from Rebecca's embrace and nods towards to south. "Maggie's isn't all that far away, but we shouldn't tarry. I've bought us some hours but Sooner or later those wolves will realize I tricked them. I'm hoping the mud and stream masked your scents enough but I'd feel much safer if we farther south by that time."
Clapping his hand on Jaymin's shoulder and smiling in thanks to the Knight, Aydan begins the next leg of the trek south, leading their party away from their home.
|
|
Sorry about missing out on the action - internet access has not been as easy as I suspected out on vacation.
"I must say, I am absolutely a rotten barber..."
Lady Rebecca manages a slight smile,
'As a barber you make a wonderful forester.'
"I was about ready to volunteer to get eaten by that wolf... At least there I'd be warm again."
'I shall make sure to keep that option in mind, lest our four-legged friends make another unwelcome appearance,' retorts Rebecca; then she smiles as she adds, 'Master Mage!'
It's a long trudge through the woods, made longer by the cautious route Aydan leads the group by, the constant fear of being caught, the discomfort of being mud-caked, chill, and tired, and the occassional wolf-howl which seems to drift right to the group on the wind...
... However, finally, as the sun dips beneath the horizon, the mud and stick hovel of Mother Maggie comes into view. The main circular hut has a pen constructed of irregular sticks and wood off one side, where a half-dozen sows laze in slick, stinking, mud. A dog-house style shelter in the pen houses a large hog who seems to be sleeping. Several chickens scratch at the ground around the hut, one roosting in the loose thatch of the roof. A wooden frame near the main hut's entrance sports the stretched-out hides of several hares. A stream bubbles past the hovel a little way off. A thin tendril of smoke winds its way out of a hole in the hut's thatch, and the smell of a hearty mortrew (meat stew) simmering on the fire... as well as the sound of rather tuneless singing... come from within the humble dwelling...
Aydan sighs in visible relief when Maggie's hovel comes into sight. He makes for a straight line for the hovel's door, pausing only to toss whatever crumbs he may have left in his pockets to the Hog in the dog house.
Under his smile, Aydan feels his pulse quicken again, as it sinks in that the topic he's actively avoided speaking of with anyone was soon about to come to light in front of everyone. Glancing back at Rebecca he smiles a little, ressuring himself. she needs to know she isn't alone,"
Stepping to the hut's door, he raps lightly with his knuckles, "Is the prettiest lass in all the woods home, by chance?" he jokes as he always does with Maggie... but the humor comes strained and in all honesty sounds half hearted.
Beatrix raises an eyebrow at Aidan's odd greeting, he does have a reputation after all...
|
|
As the murderer falls to the ground unconscious, Sir Clarius heaves and blows with rage. All of the frustration and anger from all that has happened come to the surface. His thoughts race through the events leading to his moment.
Zurladew betraying the baron and the rest of us in his foolish and unwarranted tormenting of Sir Guy and the resulting beating the ratcathcer had to endure because of his callous pranks. Clarius muscles tremble at the thought. Aydan assaulting Sir Guy because of his beating that unfortunate serf. A growl issues from deep in his throat. This scum assaulting Lady Rebecca through his unholy minion! He lashes out with his foot, sharply kicking the downed man. Him trying to murder Lady Beatrix when she discovered his evil act! He kicks again, visciously aiming for the head of the unconscious man. Dropping onto the conjuror's back and grabbing the back of the man's head, he hisses out between clenched teeth, 'Attacking Sir Jaymin,' He slams the head down. 'Thunk!' The skull making a dull hollow sound as it makes contact with the stone of the cell floor. He strains, 'Aydan' He punctuates the name by slamming the head down again, 'Thunk!' 'and Zurladew!' '' He accuses, once more driving the head into the floor.
The other prisoner's breath is now bubbling out of a broken nose, though Sir Clarius does not even register the sound as the next memories slam into his heart. 'They took Pax Pacis!' He grabs the chin with his free hand and begins to twist the bloodied face around to face him. 'They took Redwyrm!' He continues to wrench the vile murderer's head around to look at him, placing his knee in the center of the still form's back for better leverage. 'And all you care about is that everyone kisses your ass to make up for how terrible your life has been!'
Muscles straining, the veins in his neck standing out, blood rushing to the surface suffusing his skin a crimson red while the lips around his grating teeth have gone white with the effort 'They took Ailith!! ' He roars as he tears the head around to fully face him, the bones making popping noises as they rip from the cartilige, breaking his neck.
Screaming into the dead man's face, he looses the rage, frustration, anger and loss into the now soulless eyes vacantly staring back up at him. His own forehead crashes down onto the corpse's and Clarius begins sobbing, absently smoothing the body's hair back into place while inchoately murmuring placations and irrational explanations. Overwhelmed by the emotional release, the shame at all that has brought him to this point and the horror of what he only now realizes he has done, he remains in this position for some time.