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"Is the prettiest lass in all the woods home, by chance?"
There's a chuckle from inside the hovel, cutting off the tuneless singing... moments later the wicker door is pushed open to reveal a gnarled old crone of a woman, hunched over, with many layers of ragged clothes, including a hood, covering her. Her eyes sparkle as she peers over her hooked nose at Aydan,
'She stepped out for a moment, Master Forester,' Maggie replies to Aydan's question with a smirk, 'but mayhap you'd like to wait for her inside... and fill your belly with my good stew once again, eh lad?' she cackles a laugh, then peers past Aydan, squinting into the twilight, 'Who's that with you?' she asks, 'Has good Sir Clarius brought me another brace of pheasants? They'd go just right with the squirrel and hare in my mortrew...'
The polite throat-clearing rouses you from your depths of despair... at least long enough to glance up... only to see nothing but a raven perched on the crank wheel of the central chamber's rack. The bird seems to be eying you intently... then it speaks...
'I hate to intrude on what is obviously a time of great reflection for you,' it says, its voice quite clear and cultured, 'but I really felt I had to offer you my admiration. Not many men would have seized the initiative like that. It was obvious that this fellow was bad news... if you hadn't have put a stop to him now, there's no telling what he may have done in the future... just as there's no accounting for the many crimes he may well have indulged in, in times past. Bravo, say I, good Sir, bravo! When faced with that much justification, only a man of true note would act on his impulses!'
Hopping from one spar of the crank wheel to a higher one, the raven continues,
'Do please forgive my poor manners, good Sir: my name is Faust... at least that's what m'Lady calls me... I was taking a look around the place on her behalf, and came across you having your little altercation with the dearly departed there. Normally I'd not have revealed myself in such a manner, but you do appear to show great promise... and also seem in rather urgent need of some assistance... although I could be mistaken on the latter, and would ask your indulgence for my ignorance if such happens to be the case...'
Hopping off the crank wheel and fluttering closer, to perch on the end of the rack, the raven concludes,
'Would you like some assistance, Sir Clarius? I'd be more than happy to oblige.'
Aydan leans over and gives the old crone a friendly hug, it was funny - no matter his mood Maggie could always brighten his day. Sadly it's an uplifting that didn't last when the old woman asks of Clarius. "I'm sorry Maggie, he's not with us. Allow me to introduce my friends," one by one Aydan points out each of his companions and introducing them to Maggie, ending with, "And lastly, Lady Rebecca of Redwyrm. daughter of Baron Otto... We're in a bad spot Maggie and I was hoping to impose on you for safe haven," He tells her of everything that happened, from the Dragon's arrival, the battle with the giants, the death of the Baron and their flight into the woods. "Lady Hilda recognized the Dragon's name... she seemed to believe this Aedemar had history with the Baron..."
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Listening to Aydan's tale, Maggie's smile fades. Finally she lets slip a sigh, and gestures for everyone to crowd into her small hovel,
'You'd best come in,' she suggests, 'warm yourselves by the fire and I'll get some stew in your bellies.'
A cooking fire is lit in the centre of the round hut, with an iron cauldron (with a thick mortrew pottage bubbling away inside) suspended over it. The smoke reaches up until it exits through a small opening in the thatch above. A pile of old furs on a low wooden frame appear to be the crone's bed, and dead hares, squirrels, and small birds, and well as clumps of herbs, hang seemingly at random from the stick rafters. Piled up here and there are well-worn pots, pans, and ladels, and wicker baskets appears to hold the rest of the woman's meagre possessions.
Making sure everyone is inside, and as comfortable as possible in the rather cramped conditions, Mother Maggie sets about skinning and chopping up a couple of extra hares to add to the stew, along with a selection of herbs, to keep it going, even as she manages to locate enough bowls to ladel out a healthy portion for each of her guests. From one basket she produces a half-dozen clay bottles of the local perry, which she also passes around. Finally, once everyone is fed and watered, she begins to speak as she absent-mindedly stirs the stew...
'It was maybe twenty years ago,' she begins, 'back before young Otto was Baron. Word came down that the Frostward had been overrun by giants and all sorts of other monstrosities come down from the Fog Peaks. Sir Berenger Whitedragon was Lord of the Frostward and the foremost of the old Baron's vassels, so old Baron Redwyrm wasted no time in leading his men to liberate the fief. From all accounts it was a brutal and bloody affair, with quarter neither asked nor given...' she pauses, staring into the fire for a few moments, before resuming, '... In the end the Frostward was retaken, but the old Baron was dead... as was Sir Berenger and his whole household - brutally slaughtered by the mountain savages. Many bodies were never recovered... including Sir Berenger's young son, Adémar. Sir Berenger's daughter, Lady Ailith, no more than six or seven years old at the time, was only found after extensive searching, wandering alone, frostbitten and blind, in the mountains. I heard she was fostered with one of Sir Berenger's oldest friends, the old Viscount Thevia (that Geoffrey fellow's father), fulfilling some oath they'd both taken in one of the campaigns they fought against the Kelish forces to the south in their youth.'
Glancing up at Aydan, Maggie asks,
'You say that Adémar Whitedragon has turned up alive? That should be cause for celebration, not... not this... And he's a dragon now as well? That I can't explain... except...' she trails off for a moment, then shrugs, '... it was just gossip really, rumours - that the Whitedragon family took their name from some far-off ancestor, rather than just from their coat-of-arms. There are legends, of course, of those born with the blood of dragons in their veins using mysticism and magic to bring out the power it contains... but how one would go about such a thing... well, who knows?'
Craddling the bowl in his palms, Aydan lets the warmth wash over him. He listens as intently as he can to Maggie's story, and nods numbly when she looks to him, "Aye. At least the Baroness recognized the name, she couldn't identify the man himself because she wasn't part of the Barony at the time. It was on her advice that we head south to try and rally the Baron's Bannermen... she stayed behind to buy us time and try and keep a semblence of peace while we try to secure aid..."
He feels a lump grow in his throat, and tears threaten to well up inside him. Letting out a slow and haggard breath, he looks to everyone, Before focusing on Rebecca. "I... I have something you need to know, something I probably should have spoken to you about before now..."
His voice catches again and every doubt he's ever faced came rushing up to him. What right did he have to force himself into this girl's family? What if it wasn't even true? How would she react? Would she hate him? wishing he died instead of her brothers or her father? His eyes slowly sliding shut he lets out a long calming breath. It didn't matter. He wanted her to know she still had family. And pragmatically his heritage could cause her problems and she should know that the threat was there, but it wouldn't be by his choice.
"You remember when my mother took ill? She called for me on her deathbed, she told me... she told me that your father..." He can't keep her gaze, [b]"She told me that Baron Otto was my father." there, he'd said it. Whatever came next, he couldn't take that back. "I don't know if its true... She died too soon after and I was always too scared to ask him. I wanted to tell Hanz, I was going to but... After the death of your mother and your brothers I couldn't bring myself to ask... I was worried you would all think I was trying to replace Hanz."
With a final haggard breath, He gathers his courage to look up to Rebecca and the others. "For what its worth, I do believe it. I want you to know that as far as I'm concerned, You still have family in this world. I'll always be here for you Becca."
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Lady Rebecca stares in shocked silence at Aydan for a long time...
... then turns to the others...
'So what are our options?' she asks, appearing to pointedly ignore Aydan's revelation, 'Do we head south? If this attack has come from the Fog Peaks to the north, then Blackwood is the most likely fief in the Barony to have avoided attack... if any have at all. We could head straight for Oppara and try appealing to Grand Prince Stavian directly, though I confess I have no real experience in the Imperial court. Or perhaps we should head north instead, to see what has become of the Frostward? Or return to the castle? I... I just don't know what to do...'
'Whatever you decide to do,' Mother Maggie chimes in, 'you'll all need a good night's rest first. Why don't you sleep on it, and make your plans in the morning?'
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Eyes narrowing in suspicion the knight responds, 'A real friend wouldn't put a price on their assistance, however; a real friend does repay the favors of their friends.'
Continuing to blankly stare in the bird's direction the knight responds, 'For whatever that is worth... So be it. Get me out of here.'
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'You continue to impress me, Sir Clarius,' he admits, 'you play this game well: asking me a question instead of giving me an answer! Who would have thought a knight of Taldor could possess such cunning?'
Ruffling his feathers, Faust hops along the end of the rack a bit, then looks back at you,
'I do feel you are being overly cautious, however (especially considering the seemingly dire circumstances you find yourself in), but as I said, I'm very impressed by your wits, so I'll speak plainly: all I ask, in exchange for bringing you the key to your cell there, is that when an associate of mine approaches you to talk, you promise to listen and consider their proposal in a polite and civilised manner... much as we're talking here, the two of us. Surely that isn't too much to ask? But I must insist on an equally plain answer, my good Sir knight, for I have duties elsewhere and, stimulating though this conversation is, I must return to m'Lady's side... for I always keep my promises, and those I have made to her are paramount.'
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"Sleep sounds like a fine idea," the jester says from the corner where he has sequestered himself with his broth, getting full and sleepy. He rises laboriously, taking a piercing look between Aydan and Rebecca, but withholds judgement for the moment.
"Return to the castle might as well be suicide," he says, losing his lethargic demeanor. "What allies we have there will be keeping their heads down right now, and trying an insurrection will have us and them killed swiftly. South is probably our best option - to the Barony's holdings first for reconnaissance, then to Oppara to appeal to the Imperial court, though the Gods know what sort of nobles' games we'll have to wade through there." He looks to the others. "Unless one of you has a better idea?," he asks, his tone containing a hint of pleading as though hoping one of them actually does have a better plan.
Aydan's shoulders slump, his eyes drift to the fire in the center, watching it flicker and burn, the ember spark and die, He listens to Rebecca, half-heartedly in truth, As what little is left of his world crashes down. What did he expect, truly? Warm hugs? that it would all be okay now? He pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. Focusing on his duties. The Blackwood, and the Baron's other bannermen. They owed Becca fealty, and marshalling her forces would be key... But he couldn't bring himself to speak.
'Whatever you decide to do,' Mother Maggie chimes in, 'you'll all need a good night's rest first. Why don't you sleep on it, and make your plans in the morning?'
"A good suggestion," He smiles weakly, standing up as much as the cramped hit will allow, he gives the old crone another hug and a small kiss of the forehead. "You've not a lot of space I'm afraid. The night's grow warmer and I miss the stars. I think I'll find a tree to rest under."
Keeping his smile - his shield - firmly in place, Aydan nods a goodnight to the others, and heads back out of the little hut.
Heading outside, he wanders over a thick tree at the edge of the clearing. He pulls off his muddy cloak and tosses it in a ball to the side, sitting down and resting against the tree, looking up at the stars.
After a moment, he draws his sword from his sheath, his eyes moving over the weapon. The gleaming steel of the blade, the worn black leather of the handle and the simple straight crossguard. It wasn't an ostentatious weapon, but it was a fine one.
A tear trickled down his cheek as he remembered when he'd received the sword. On his sixteenth birthday - barely a year after his mother had passed away - He'd gone riding with the Baron, Hanz and Kristoff. He laughed inspite of himself, remembering the fuss that Rebecca had kicked up because she couldn't go, even as another tear streaked down his face.
There was no pomp or circumstance, they'd made camp in the afternoon for lunch and the Baron and Hanz had brought him the bundle, the Baron smiling and simply saying "Happy birthday, boy." With Hanz grinning like a fool behind him...
Another tear, and then another. And just like that he can't stop them anymore. He can't push it all down anymore. The pain when he'd watched his mother wither away on her deathbed. The shock and the twisting in his gut when he'd been told of the death and the Baroness and her children and the guilt of not being honest with Hanz. And now the horror of the Baron's death. The sickening crunch he'd made as he hit the ground and Aydan watched the only man who'd been anything close to a father for him die.
He couldn't ignore the pain anymore. So he doesn't. And in the dark of night under the stars; Aydan Crow hunches over his sword - and cries.
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"Sleep sounds like a fine idea," the jester says from the corner where he has sequestered himself with his broth, getting full and sleepy. He rises laboriously, taking a piercing look between Aydan and Rebecca, but withholds judgement for the moment.
"Return to the castle might as well be suicide," he says, losing his lethargic demeanor. "What allies we have there will be keeping their heads down right now, and trying an insurrection will have us and them killed swiftly. South is probably our best option - to the Barony's holdings first for reconnaissance, then to Oppara to appeal to the Imperial court, though the Gods know what sort of nobles' games we'll have to wade through there." He looks to the others. "Unless one of you has a better idea?," he asks, his tone containing a hint of pleading as though hoping one of them actually does have a better plan.
"As much as retreat is distasteful, I think you have the right of it. South would be our best option, though I wonder if going straight to Oppara may be a better option."
the knight says, trying to clean off his armor...
"Lord Geoffrey brought Lady Ailith with him to the tourney, and this usurper is supposedly the brother of Lady Ailith...I'm not so sure we can trust the Baron's bannermen. But then again Zurladew, you have seen more political maneuvering in your time than I have. Call it paranoia, or even perhaps my pride still stinging from earlier in the day, but it is just a thought."
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Lady Rebecca's eyes follow Aydan as he leaves the hovel... but she soon focuses on the conversation at hand. Listening to Zurladew and Garrett's comments the (mud-spattered) flame-haired teenage Lady frowns,
''Tis true Viscount Geoffrey is, technically, a rival Lord to my father...' mentioning her father causes Rebecca to stop mid-sentance... for a moment it looks like she's about to burst into tears... but then the muscles in her jaw tighten (in a manner reminiscent of Baron Otto himself when he got serious) and she forces herself to continue, '... but I have a hard time believing that he'd be party to something like this. For all we know Ailith manipulated him... or is a victim herself. We can't even be certain if that... that dragon... really was her long-lost brother, can we? If magics exist to allow a man to become a dragon... or a dragon to become a man for that matter... then how much harder would it be to pretend to be someone you're not?'
Pausing, Lady Rebecca raises a spoonful of stew to her lips, then stops and replaces it in the bowl, setting it aside and shaking her head,
'Forgive me,' she offers Mother Maggie, 'I don't seem to have much of an apetite...'
Turning back to her 'council', Lady Rebecca adds,
'Whatever the situation with Lord Geoffrey, I don't see how that reflects on father's vassal knights. They must help us... mustn't they? I mean, they swore oaths and... well... everything...' she finishes weakly, suddenly sounding more like a frightened girl than a noble commander...
'Well,' Mother Maggie pipes up, even as she refills bowls for those who want, 'whatever you all decide, it doesn't sound like a good idea for you to be wandering about looking like Lords and Ladies. Rest here tonight, stay here tomorrow, and I'll go to the village and find you some clothes which won't stand out as much. Maybe I can even pick up on the gossip as to what's going on, eh? No point in going anywhere if you don't know what's happening in the world around you.'
Sir Jaymin has been sitting quietly in one corner, eating his stew and listening.
"I do not believe we should all leave for Oppara, or southern bannermen, though I agree some should. I fear for Lady Rebecca's loyal subjects, some will no doubt suffer oppression at the hand of these creatures, and I cannot easily abandon them. Some of us should remain here, and form a resistance. We can scout our enemy, get a feel for their numbers, perhaps take out some of the weaker ones, sabotage some of their efforts, determine if Sir Clarius and Banker Hightower still live and rescue them...I don't know specifics of how we could accomplish this, but I suspect you do, Ayden. Sir Ayden, it should be, given your valour over these past few hours."
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Nodding, perhaps more to himself than the bird he adds, 'That might just be doing you a favor.' He starts to speak again then thinks better of it, closing his mouth.
"Where is Ayden, anyway?"
Seeing that he's gone outside, Sir Jaymin asks, "Mother Magpie? Would you happen to have some libations in your pantry? Strongish libations? I would be more than happy to reimburse you, once I come back into some coin."
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Otto's two main vassals - Sir Ranulf of the Frostward in the north, and Sir Anselm of Blackwood in the south - will certainly be loyal to the Redwyrm family... but Sir Ranulf was at the tourney, and if the enemy came from the Fog Peaks, then there's every chance that the Frostward was the first fief to fall...
One other name does spring to mind... Sir Everard of Grimsmoor. Like Sir Ranulf and Sir Anselm, Everard (nicknamed 'the brave boar' in his youth) was one of the Baron's old war companions, having shared in Imperial campaigns against Qadiran aggression in their youth. Whatever else you've seen of politics, the bonds of old soldiers seem harder to break than most, and Sir Everard has always seemed a most loyal fellow... even though he's more wool merchant than mighty warrior these days. What's more, the Grimsmoor fief itself stretches a good part of the way between the Redwyrm fief where you are and the Blackwood fief in the south... without following the more frequented trade routes.
Grimsmoor's made up of moorland, rivers running through patches of woods, ‘tor’ hills with rocky outcroppings atop them, and dangerous bogs. Much of it is wild, and the whole place is dotted with ancient ruins of various sorts. Sir Everard has no sons, but identical twin daughters – Florencia and Giliana - who are uncommonly attractive, and now of marriagable age... and it's said that Sir Everard is keen to find both of them suitable husbands so that there's someone to take his place when he dies...
You feel certain that Sir Everard could aid your little band, either in heading south to Blackwood or Oppara, or even just helping to conceal you all from your foes. The Grimsmoor itself, whilst a fairly forlorn place, would also seem a good place to be: assuming you have a man like Aydan on your side, and the enemy doesn't...
"I do not believe we should all leave for Oppara, or southern bannermen, though I agree some should. I fear for Lady Rebecca's loyal subjects, some will no doubt suffer oppression at the hand of these creatures, and I cannot easily abandon them. Some of us should remain here, and form a resistance. We can scout our enemy, get a feel for their numbers, perhaps take out some of the weaker ones, sabotage some of their efforts, determine if Sir Clarius and Banker Hightower still live and rescue them..."
'I... I'm not suggesting abandoning anyone!' Rebecca blurts out, shocked by Jaymin's words, 'I just I...' she trails off and bows her head, and she concludes with a mumbled, '... I just don't know what to do to help them all...'
"Mother Magpie? Would you happen to have some libations in your pantry? Strongish libations? I would be more than happy to reimburse you, once I come back into some coin."
'Oh, "Magpie" is it?' asks Mother Maggie, wagging her finger at Jaymin, 'you cheeky young thing! As for drink, the perry is all I've got... and you've had the best of that already. I'm sorry if it's not up to your Lordship's normal standards, but that's just how things are. Now... unless you're planning on upsetting the Lady here any more, I suggest you all get some rest and continue your... your... stratagizing... in the morning!' Rolling her eyes, the old woman bustles about finding enough furs and rough homespun blankets for everyone...
'That might just be doing you a favor.'
'That it might,' the bird agrees, cautiously adding, 'but we'll have to see.'
Flapping off the rack, Faust heads up the stairs and out of sight...
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... After what seems like an eternity (but is probably closer to ten or so minutes) the raven returns, the large iron key to your cell in his beak. Dropping it just outside the cell door (and within reach through the bars) he hops back a pace or two,
'You'll be contacted soon enough,' he says... then adds as he flaps away, '... assuming you live that long...'
"Forgive me, my Lady. I did not mean to upset you, nor to imply that you would ever abandon your people. Please forgive a poor choice in words. Mother Maggie is correct. No more planning tonight. If you will excuse me, I have another offspring of the Baron to apologize to."
Sir Jaymin bows to all and heads outside to find Ayden. He clomps over in his muddy armour, and sits down a few feet away, removing a few pieces of mud-caked metal, and begins to clean it off. After about ten minutes of scraping and washing, he breaks the silence. "I half-jokingly suggested inside that we should be referring to you as Sir Ayden, because of the valour and bravery you showed tonight. Many people have 'Sir' in front of their name because they win a joust or have rich daddies. In days of old, you had to earn that title with deeds and skills like yours, running off alone to lead those wolves away, risking yourself to save the group. When people had to earn those titles, they sort of deserved the kind of treatment they got, being above the common folk, because it was their lives that were forfeit when things went wrong like they did today. Of course, knifed today still act like knights of yore, just undeservedly so."
"I would hate for you to think me one of those knights, although I suppose in many ways I'm a product of the society that has caused Taldor to lose so much of its true nobility. I spoke so harshly against the blacksmith, not because he's some commoner and his justice is beneath my notice, but because of the gift Kurgess gave me to see deep into the souls of men and other beings, and judge the condition of their souls. I looked into the soul of that Black Knight, and found it as ugly as sin itself. Any man who could create or summon such a beast, to say nothing of the dretches we fought in his tent, has very little in him to redeem. That is why I spoke so strongly. As for why I grew so angry, I will admit it had more to do with you and who you were than anything. I hope you can come to forgive that. It was unfounded in the extreme."
His piece said, Jaymin resumes cleaning his armour.
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Zurladew snaps to from his reverie. "Grimsmoor," he says suddenly. "We should head to Grimsmoor and make our way south from there. Sir Everard was a loyal companion of your father in the wars, Rebecca, and he has daughters not much older than you - I'm sure he would want to keep you as safe as he keeps them. The fief's swamps and moors are as wild and untamed as we could ask for, and with a forester like Aydan at our disposal they'd be hard-pressed to find us. And we can head stop at Blackwood from there with a decent chance of not seeing another soul, as long as we're staying off of the main trade routes." He pours himself a second serving of the perry to congratulate himself. "Though of course the final decision is yours, milady," he says deferentially.
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Clarius snatches the key up and uses it to unlock the door to the cell. He heads directly to the guards, checking to see if either of them yet lives.
Confirming that they are indeed dead, he begins the odious task of stripping one of it's armour and weapons. Clarius also searches them for anything of use beyond their armaments [including money and any items of value that could be sold or traded (hey, hard times mean hard decisions)]. Once done, he dons the armour and straps on the weapons. (I assume you'll let me know the particulars of what he finds)
Quietly climbing up the stairs to the entrance of the dungeon, he looks and listens to make sure the way is still clear.
Again, assuming the way is clear, he proceeds through the cellars. As stealthily as possible, he searches for anything else useful, i.e. backpack, belt pouches, food to include rations, waterskins, etc. Clarius goes to the concealed door which leads to the room containing the postern gate maintaining his stealth.
He listens at the concealed door for anyone that may be in the room before entering. Once inside, he quietly closes the door behind him and thoroughly searches the room for any concealed items which may have been hidden for just such emergencies.
Taking whatever he finds, Clarius listens at the postern gate for any clue that someone may be waiting on the other side.
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Zurladew snaps to from his reverie. "Grimsmoor," he says suddenly. "We should head to Grimsmoor and make our way south from there. Sir Everard was a loyal companion of your father in the wars, Rebecca, and he has daughters not much older than you - I'm sure he would want to keep you as safe as he keeps them. The fief's swamps and moors are as wild and untamed as we could ask for, and with a forester like Aydan at our disposal they'd be hard-pressed to find us. And we can head stop at Blackwood from there with a decent chance of not seeing another soul, as long as we're staying off of the main trade routes." He pours himself a second serving of the perry to congratulate himself. "Though of course the final decision is yours, milady," he says deferentially.
"Grimsmoor you say? Seems like a reasonable course of action I suppose, much better to go to one who was a true friend to the Baron rather than just a sworn vassal who's allegiance may be questionable at best."
Turning to Lady Rebecca...
"I believe Master Zurladew has the right of it, m'lady. Once we are sure of your safety, perhaps Sir Jaymin and I can return to see if we can free a few allies, if it please m'lady."
Beatrix remains silent throughout the deliberations, keeping a reassuring arm around Rebecca, as much to steady herself as her friend.
Aydan takes a deep and ragged breath when Jaymin sits down. He doesn't bother wiping the tears from his face - it doesn't really matter with the mud already streaking it - and listens intently to the Knight. He laughs a little at the suggestion of Knighthood but doesn't interupt, letting Jaymin say his piece.
"I've never thought of you as one of the those Knights sir. You've shown a commitment to good and honesty and all the qualities that everyone should strive for but few seldom attain; myself included.
...To your logic, I understand. My fear was that our smith - who I have honestly not given thought to since the attack." he snorts self derisively at the thought, "My worry was that he was simply a puppet - a slave - and that killing him would only loose that evil unto a new host." He shrugs non commitally, "But perhaps I was wrong. Hardly seems to matter now. As to your abruptness, my friend, your apology is accepted and I'm sorry for any rudeness on my behalf. As I said I've seen your character well enough and a spat won't change that."
He goes silent again, his breathing calmer now, and looks up at the stars. "Sir Aydan Crow... heh. You know as a child I wanted that dearly. To be able to ride off to war alongside Hanz, parade around clad in shining mail. This was long before my mother told me who my father... might be. Hanz and I used to play Kings and Castles all the time and..."
Aydan can't help but choke up again, his thoughts seemingly shifting, "But that's what's special about Becca, what was so great about her brother. I was never the whelp at the Baron's table, or the arrogant brat who thought himself better than his peers. I was just... Me."
He glances over at Jaymin, a small sad smile on his face, "Same father or not, he was my brother. I miss him dearly."
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"Forgive me, my Lady. I did not mean to upset you, nor to imply that you would ever abandon your people. Please forgive a poor choice in words. Mother Maggie is correct. No more planning tonight. If you will excuse me, I have another offspring of the Baron to apologize to."
'Another..?' Lady Rebecca murmurs as Jaymin departs the hovel, 'My father not yet dead a day and they accuse him of having been unfaithful to my mother...'
However, the flame-haired girl seems to supress the anger and hurt which threatens to rise in the face of such words from trusted companions, and instead focuses... with steel-eyed determination... on the words of Zurladew and Garrett. After both have spoken she stares unblinking into the fire for a few moments... then finally nods,
'It seems the best plan we have,' she agrees, then adds, 'now... if that's decided, I think I'd like to try to rest a while...' Moving back from the fire, she gathers a fur over herself as she curls up on her side, facing the hovel's wall...
Once free from your cell, you strip the (very dead) guards and don a set of armour, before quietly heading up the stone stairs, out of the dank dungeons as the steps take a turn to the right, and up into the cellars. There's what sounds like raucous merry making coming from the stairs leading further upwards... and you note that the heavy lock securing the wine cellar door has been smashed off. Since nobody appears to be about in the cellars at the moment, you risk a precious few minutes securing some much needed supplies from the larder, pantry and storage chamber...
Moving aside several crates you locate the section of wood panelling on the storage room wall which hides the concealed door. Hearing nothing beyond, you take a little while, running your fingers over the edging on the panel, until you locate the concealed catch. With a soft click, the panel swings in. You have to duck to pass into the small secret room beyond, then take a few moments to pull the crates back into place behind you and shut the door...
... Plunged into pitch blackness, but feeling a little safer all the same, you light the lantern you retrieved from the storage area (with flint and tinder from the same) and take a good long look around. Besides the secret entrance from the castle storage room, the low ceiling stone chamber has a single exit - a portcullis leading to the postern tunnel out of the keep. The tunnel itself is narrow, arched, and low enough that you'll have to stoop to pass through it. The heavy iron portcullis, spotted here and there with rust, has a locking lever and chain winch on the wall to its left - out of sight and reach of anyone coming up the tunnel the other way. Apart from torch brackets set into the walls, you find nothing in the way of equipment left in the secret room...
'Another..?' Lady Rebecca murmurs as Jaymin departs the hovel, 'My father not yet dead a day and they accuse him of having been unfaithful to my mother...'
However, the flame-haired girl seems to supress the anger and hurt which threatens to rise in the face of such words from trusted companions, and instead focuses... with steel-eyed determination... on the words of Zurladew and Garrett. After both have spoken she stares unblinking into the fire for a few moments... then finally nods,
'It seems the best plan we have,' she agrees, then adds, 'now... if that's decided, I think I'd like to try to rest a while...' Moving back from the fire, she gathers a fur over herself as she curls up on her side, facing the hovel's wall...
Beatrix keeps a close watch on her friend before finally drifting off to sleep.
With his apology delivered, and "Sir Ayden" somewhat cheered, Sir Jaymin takes his leave. He informs the others that he'll take the first watch himself, finds out who he's waking for the second, and finds himself a good vantage point, quietly cleaning his armour while listening to the forest night. He should have all the mud out by the time his watch is over.
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Having raised the portcullis, you hear nothing coming up the postern tunnel, which stretches off into the darkness, sloping down at an angle (as it leads under both the walls and the moat)...
... a few moments later you hear a distinct 'shush!', followed by a man's voice, with a Galtish accent, in a hoarse whisper,
'Quiet you two! Now circle round the other side while we check the hut...'
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Clarius keeps the hood almost completely closed letting out only a sliver of light to dimly show the way. He hefts the backpack onto his shoulders and proceeds to quietly make his way down the passage, sliding home the hood on the lantern every twenty feet as he stops and looks for any light ahead and listens for anything he can hear.
Sir Jaymin casually lays down his piece of armour and puts his hand on his sword hilt, drawing it very, very slowly. Once he has at least a hand of bare steel, he calls out, in a very loud voice (hopefully loud enough to alert the others),
I leave it to you to roll the necessary Perception checks to see if the others awaken.
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Those sleeping (as best they can) are rudely awoken by Sir Jaymin's voice booming out like a town cryer...
'What is it?' she whispers, 'What's happening?'
The postern tunnel ends in a small cave which amounts to little more than a vertical crack, just large enough for a man to pass through. With the hood down on your lantern you squeeze through, emerging into the moonlit night, and finding yourself on the downward slope of a small hillock just inside the treeline of the woods nearest Castle Redwyrm. From outside the cave looks like little more than a pile of rocks, and woodland undergrowth further serves to hide the secret passage. Just as you emerge you hear what sounds like the struggles of an angered horse, along with the voices of two men - both with Galtish accents - from the castle-side of the hillock...
'Blasted beast! We should just put a bolt through its stubborn head and serve the damnable thing for supper!' the first protests.
'Don't be an idiot Gerard,' snaps back the second man, 'a steed of this quality is worth a great deal of money... and difficult as it's being, it's still easier money than those poor sods assigned to scour the woods for his Lordship's lost little Lady and her friends...'
Perception:
Initiative:
"We need at least one alive, Ayden. Try to pick a smart one."
Sir Jaymin moves to meet the two attackers charging him. He tries to get close enough to Mr. Longsword so that Mr. Crossbow has difficulty with his aim.
Charging attack on Mr. Longsword:
Damage: (two-handed)
His current AC is a dismal 11.
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Quietly setting down the halberd, Clarius shrugs one arm out of the backpack before switching hands and setting the backpack down.
Taking back up the halberd, he moves around the hillock so as not put himself in profile against the night sky atop it. When he can see the men and horse, he tries to notice what horse they are molesting. Clarius takes careful aim at the one that is not in contact with the horse. When he has a shot, he will fire.
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Once Sir Garrett pushes open the door to the hovel, those inside are witness to battle being joined, under the moonlight, between Sir Jaymin and two men, both clad in mis-matched armour - mostly leather with pieces of plate and chain here and there - one swinging a longsword in both hands, the other stepping into position to get a clear shot at Jaymin with the loaded heavy crossbow he holds in his hands.
The man with the longsword charges Jaymin, the strength and power of his two-handed swing just enough to force the tip of his blade past Jaymin's guard to etch a jagged bloody scratch across the knight's chest...
Stepping wide around Jaymin the crossbowman drops to one knee, loosing a bolt... which sails off somewhere into the woods beyond. The crossbowman quickly starts to crank his weapon back into firing position... but now has his back to the hovel, apparantly having failed to notice the door opening in the darkness...
Having taken the swordsman's charge, Jaymin shoves the man back a step before fluidly turning into a roundhouse strike which slices his own blade clean through the man's neck. The swordsman's severed head thuds down to the leaf-strewn ground even as the rest of him topples to one side...
Aydan slowly rouses himself from sleep...
'What?!' exclaims the other man, dropping his own rope as he turns, peering into the darkness, and draws his longsword... only for Argos to turn and kick - smashing the man's head and back in a shower of blood, bone, and gristle!
Snorting and shaking his mane, Argos appears to take a moment to look over and sniff the two fallen men then, apparantly satisfied, trotts over to you...
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Clarius reloads the crossbow and moves to Argos. Letting the steed get his scent, he raises his hand to stroke it's muzzle. 'Well done, Argos.'
Moving to the two downed men, he grabs up one and takes it to the concealed entrance where he manhandles it through the narrow opening and well into the tunnel. Clarius comes back out, quickly moving to the other man and repeating the process. Returning to Argos, he directs it to guard the entrance.
Going back to the bodies, Clarius thoroughly searches them, taking anything he finds. He takes care to retrieve the boots of the man he shot. He then takes on the odious task of dispatching both men. He recites Erastil's prayer of blessing for a successful hunt over their bodies before changing out his boots for the dead man's and hauling the items back outside to Argos.
Stowing as much of the gear as possible on the warhorse, Clarius murmurs soothingly to the stallion, 'Sorry, friend. I mean you no disrespect and do not perceive you as a pack mule, but your master and our other friends may have need of these.'
Taking the lantern, Clarius goes back to where the men fell and does his best to remove any trace of his presence and the marks of the man he shot falling to the ground. That done, he tries to confuse the scene with more tracks in the purloined boots.
Clarius leads Argos off into the forest away from the hillock some ways before leaving the horse to circle back and obliterate any other traces leading back to the concealed entrance.
Clarius returns via the roundabout way to Argos and let's the horse have his lead, figuring he will have a better idea of where to find his master.
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Argos waits impatiently as you go about your business hiding and finishing the Galtans, disguising your trail, and all the rest. When you eventually return to him he bows his head and keeps nudging you, rubbing his rope-bound neck against you until you get the hint to remove the horrid things...
... The steed then bows down again, as if requesting that you mount up... sniffing the ground and turning towards the south, and further into the woods...