ProfPotts' Blood of the Redwyrm PbP

Game Master Alexander Scott

Sir Everard nods as he listens to what the group have to say then, as manor servants scurry in to set up a testle table, put out some chairs, and lay out food and drink (warmed-through pottage, cold meats, fresh baked bread, hard cheese, and lashings of cider and ale) he calls for them to send his scribe Benedict back in. Bowls of warm water and washcloths are also provided for those who wish to clean-up before eating. Soon enough the servants are done and gone again, and everyone is settled and eating. The aged Benedict shuffles back into the hall, grumbling all the way, then listens as Sir Everard bids him to sit, and relates what your group has told him so far.

'Marriage,eh?' the old scribe muses, tapping one gnarled finger against his clean-shaven chin as he does so, 'That would seem to make sense... if this "dragon man" is, in fact, Adémar Whitedragon - if he isn't then it would seem a foolhardy deception, as any such union would require the consent of the Grand Prince, and we can rest assured that His Majesty has ample mystical resources available to divine the truth or falsehood of such a claim.'

'Then all will be well!' declares Lady Rebecca brightly, 'Surely Grand Prince Stavian will refuse to have me wed to the man who murdered my Father?'

Sir Everard and Benedict exchange a dark glance,

'It's not really that cut-and-dried,' Sir Everard states, as gently as he's able, 'you see... politics...' he glances to Benedict for help. The scribe sighs and shakes his head,

'The Grand Prince's first duty is to the Empire, m'Lady,' he explains, 'even if one were to take out all other possible motivations. If Whitedragon has gone to such lengths to attack when he did, and to try to take you as his bride, then he shows some understanding of the way such things work... It seems unlikely that he'll have left the Grand Prince's descision to blind chance and a favourable wind. At the very least, with a host of Taldan nobles... not to mention noble's sons... present at the tournament he'll no doubt be obtaining written pledges of support for his claim to the Barony - no matter how flimsy that claim may be - in return for freedoms granted to those he now has in his grasp. As to what other wheels he may have set into motion...' the old man shrugs, '... we can't say for now, but his goals wouldn't seem practical without some sort of presence at the Imperial court.'

'Oh...' Lady Rebecca's face drops as she listens to what the scribe has to say. For a few moments she stares at her pottage, pushing chunks of bread around with her spoon, before looking up again and asking, 'So... is this a military battle or a political one?'

'Both,' replies Sir Everard, folding his arms across his barrel chest. Benedict glances at his Lord, then turns to Lady Rebecca and (slightly more helpfully) adds,

'There really isn't one without the other, m'Lady. The Grand Prince isn't likely to move to support one side or the other until there is clear advantage for him to do so, and the Taldan nobility will be hard to motivate without the Grand Prince's lead. It will never be in the Grand Prince's interests to fund a conflict against Whitedragon on his own, so there needs to be at least a good chance of beating the man on the field of battle without any support, before support can be expected...'

'Then...' Lady Rebecca's brow furrows as she replies, '... then what's the point of Grand Prince Stavian's support at all? If we have to beat Whitedragon alone anyway..?'

Benedict sighs,

'It's a subtle game, m'Lady, balanced on a well-honed edge. The Grand Prince's support will, ultimately, always be needed if the rulership of the Barony is to be recognised and legal. Beyond that, as I said, the nobility take their cues from the Imperial Crown. If Stavian is seen to be leaning one way or the other, then certain nobles will tend to rush to be seen to be supporting the side they see as being in favour.'

'So...' Lady Rebecca tries her best to follow, '... we need to support of the Grand Prince, and individual nobles?'

'Not to mention enough of a military force to be a threat to Whitedragon's troops in open battle.' Sir Everard adds.

'That... that seems very... complicated...' Lady Rebecca says quietly, more to herself than to anyone else...

Sir Everard exchanges another glance with Benedict, then looks over your group, before looking to Lady Rebecca,

'Well, it's mostly speculation right now,' he offers, 'we have some work to do before we understand what's really going on... and you need to get some rest. Whatever happens, it's going to be a challenging time ahead... for all of us.'

Looking up, Lady Rebecca nods,

'Yes... yes, Sir Everard, you're right, of course. My thanks again for your hospitality and support. You'll excuse me if I retire for a while?'

'Of course, m'Lady,' Sir Everard bows, 'I'll have a servant see you to your quarters.'

Lady Rebecca rises and heads out... Presumably with Lady Beatrix in tow?

Once Lady Rebecca has gone, Sir Everard slams his fist on the table,

'Damn it all to the nine hells!' he declares. Standing, he begins to pace again, 'I think you're right, Garrett,' he says, 'we'll refrain from mentioning Lady Rebecca's location in our messages to the rest of the Baron's vassals - although I doubt we can keep her presence here a secret long, any little will help. We'll also send an official letter to the Grand Prince; Benedict?'

'I'll draft something appropriate, m'Lord,' replies the old scribe, 'with Lady Rebecca's seal we should be able to, at least, stall any descisions the Grand Prince would otherwise be inclined to make in favour of Whitedragon...' he chuckles, adding, '... if there's one thing the Imperial Court is good at, it's prevarication. With a dash of legalise thrown in we should be able to draw the thing out indefinitely.'

'Or at least until we're all dead and Whitedragon has his claws on Lady Rebecca, hmmm,' mutters Sir Everard. Benedict nods.

'Now, Aydan,' Sir Everard turns to the forester, 'I agree that you need to track down the Iron Maiden, although I think you should take your friends along as well,' he nods to Jaymin and Garrett, then continues, 'The situation is a little more dire than I let on. Sirs Bors and Cedric set out several days ago, and we've not had word from them since. I'm begining to fear the worst. I can point you in the right direction, then it'll be up to you - the few men I have remaining here we'll need to help keep Lady Rebecca safe. That said, I suggest you get a good night's sleep, resupply, and head out in the morning.'

Meanwhile...

A maid leads Ladies Rebecca and Beatrix up the manor's great staircase to the mid-floor, where Sir Everard's family quarters are, and to a guest room: small compared to the rooms in Castle Redwyrm, but pleasant enough, with a four-poster bed, a chest for extra bedding and clothes, and a single table and chair. An open window with shutters overlooks the manor's bailey. At Lady Rebecca's request the maid heads off to heat water for a bath.

Slumping down on the bed, Lady Rebecca sighs,

'I was so foolish to think this would all be over soon,' she comments, 'how am I supposed to compete with Whitedragon? I've already lost one of the knights with me... Maybe he was right?' she glances at Beatrix, 'Clarius, I mean - I'm just a powerless little girl no-one is about to respect. Even those loyal, like Sir Everard, offer help out of respect for my Father - I've done nothing to earn any, have I?'

Staring at her own hands, Lady Rebecca frowns,

'That wasn't a dream last night, was it? Maybe I do have some power in me...' she looks up at Beatrix again, '... all the wrong sort, of course - the gods wouldn't have it any other way - but power none-the-less. Tell me, Beatrix, how much do you know about magic?'

I'm assuming Beatrix is with Rebecca, and the men-folk are with Sir Everard right now... although Zurladew could be anywhere he wanted to be.

Aydan chews his lower lip in thought, nodding to Sir Everard, he offers a wain smile, "Have to say, they're quite clunky in all that metal... honestly the chance of surprise will be slim with them, but if it's a fight I'm walking into then there's no one I'd rather have with me." He nods to Garrett and Jaymin, "Unless you two object to it, we can leave at first light then. Sir Everard, do you have any hounds I could borrow in your kennels? I'm afraid I had to leave Valeros and Damiel behind."

After that's settled he asked, "What can you tell me about this Iron Maiden? Theodric and Alen told me a little, sounded gruesome. Is it true? What of her men, loyal or afraid of her?"

'Yes, yes,' Sir Everard quickly agrees, 'you can take your pick of the kennels. If you're needing horses, then you may as well take Bors and Cedric's spares; I'm sure neither will object, under the circumstances...'

'The Iron Maiden... yes... I imagine all the guards told you is true... and more besides. In truth we know little beyond rumours and what we can piece together in the aftermath of her attacks. She and her band don't leave survivors... although once or twice their victims have managed to hold on long enough to say a few words to those who found them,' the old soldier shakes his head, 'which, of course, means we only have third or forth hand accounts.'

Benedict sifts through the collection of scrolls and papers he always seems to have on hand, finally pulling out a sheet of parchment, which he scans for a moment, silently murmuring the words as his eyes pass over them, then looks up,

'The victims appear to have all mentioned an unnatural fog or mist rolling in just before they were attacked. After that, details get less clear - understandibly lost in generic descriptions of slaughter and torturous horrors. There only seems to be one woman with the bandits - their leader - who is sometimes described as a beautiful young maiden, and at others as a hideous twisted giant. Some seem to suggest that her very flesh is as hard and as impervious as iron, other that the nails on her fingers are iron claws. She appears to delight in bloodletting and general mayhem - actually stealing anything seems to be a secondary concern.'

Sir Everard snorts,

'That's the best we've been able to work out,' he explains, 'trying to filter the more fanciful rumours from the few facts. Apart from that we've found plenty of longbow arrows at the ambush sites - not unusual for Taldor, where every free man trains in either pike or bow for the phalanx - so it appears that after the fog blinds them, the bandits rain a few volleys of arrows down upon their victims' heads to soften them up. They also appear to like using traps - spiked logs, bear traps, pits - that sort of thing, generally crude, but effective... especially if one can't see their nose in front of their face.'

'There was that observation Sir Bors made as well, m'Lord,' prompts Benedict.

'What? Oh, yes...' Sir Everard scowls, '... After checking one of the ambushed barges Sir Bors thought that many of the barge guards looked like they'd never even fought back... "as if they'd been killed in their sleep" was they way he put it. Benedict here thinks that the bandits may have someone capable of magically putting people to sleep... I tend towards thinking that mercenary guards aren't above drinking themselves to sleep on the job; so it's hardly conclusive evidence of anything...'

Beatrix, surveying the bailey from the window looks up at her friend's words.

'I am no proper expert, though I have a good deal of practical experience. In your case I must admit I am somewhat out of my depth...'

Turning back to the window, she continues:

'My mother could have helped, but I have only a fraction of her talent. I'm sorry Becka.'

Two days of deliberating what Zurladew would do in this situation, I think I have a post...

Zurladew listens for a little bit to the talk of the Iron Maiden before he slips away after Rebecca and Beatrix. Navigating his way through the chambers, he eventually stumbles across the guest room.

'That wasn't a dream last night, was it? Maybe I do have some power in me...' she looks up at Beatrix again, '... all the wrong sort, of course - the gods wouldn't have it any other way - but power none-the-less. Tell me, Beatrix, how much do you know about magic?'

Beatrix, surveying the bailey from the window looks up at her friend's words.

'I am no proper expert, though I have a good deal of practical experience. In your case I must admit I am somewhat out of my depth...'

Turning back to the window, she continues:

'My mother could have helped, but I have only a fraction of her talent. I'm sorry Becka.'

Zurladew enters into the room quietly, trying not to startle the two ladies. "Actually, milady, I may have something to say on the topic," the jester says seriously. He walks towards the two of them.

"Magic comes in many forms, Rebecca. It may be little, the creation of a small bit of influence upon the world..." The jester creates a flower out of thin air, handing it to Rebecca. "...or large and earth-shattering, the sort of magic that destroys kingdoms and dries seas. Furthermore, magic can come from one of two places - either a tool given by the gods to their faithful, or a self-contained ability to wring the fabric of reality to suit the user’s needs.” Zurladew vanishes from sight, his voice still echoing around the chamber as he continues speaking. ”Amongst the self-contained magic users, two other camps arise,” the disembodied voice continues. ”Those who scrounge for esoteric knowledge, teaching themselves the methods that the cosmos can be rearranged... or those who simply can, through sheer force of personality.” He appears in front of the ladies again, bowing low. ”Like myself.”

Unbowing, he continues speaking, now gesturing to illustrate his points. ”Now amongst sorcerors, as such spontaneous magicians are called, the power inherent in us can take a number of forms, depending on where the power originally came from. I possess my magic, I believe, as a lingering echo of an ancestor who learned much of the ways of arcane magic - an old gnome who tried to escape back to the First World. Yours... well, where your magic comes from is really the least of our concerns, but it appears from what I have seen that your magical aptitude has some link to the red dragons that your family combated in their past.” He holds up his hands to halt any questions. ”Only a hypothesis, mind you, but rest assured that your draconic magics should be firmly under your control - once you have learned how to control them, of course.”

He gives Rebecca a long, almost pitying look. ”I don’t know how useful that is to you, milady - but there it all is, as much as I can think of at this moment. A lot to hear, I know, but...” The little jester shrugs sadly. ”I simply worry that we don’t have much time for me to be gentle about this.”

So for Zurladew's own sense of the dramatic, that is one use of gnomish Prestidigitation used, and one 1st-level spell (Vanish) for the sake of that oratory.

Lady Rebecca listens to both Beatrix and Zurladew, a slight smile managing to peak through her expression of concern as the jester produces the flower and does his vanishing trick. Once he's finished, Rebecca pushes her flame-red hair back behind her ear and stares at the prestidigitated flower, twirling it between her thumb and forefinger as she asks,

'So the words you use... and the way you wave your hands about... those are... um... what you'd call "spells" then? I...' she glances up, looking between Beatrix and Zurladew, and nervously nibbles on her lower lip before continuing, '... It's stupid... crazy, really... but I... I sometimes catch myself thinking in a different language... or, at least, it seems like a language - it could all just be nonsense, but I seem to understand it, and it's not Taldane or any other language like it...' Falling silent for a while, she then asks, quietly, 'What does it feel like? Magic, I mean? Is it... does it feel like a fire in your chest, straining to burst out of you?'

'Are you doing magic?' a lyrical voice asks from the door. Looking over, there are two young ladies standing there - both in their late teens, shapely and extremely good looking, with pale skin and long raven-black hair, and clad in fine pale green dresses. What's more, the pair appear identical... or rather almost identical, as one has green eyes, and the other hazel... They're obviously Florencia and Giliana: Sir Everard's twin daughters.

Each sister wears modest jewellery, including a lozange-shaped signet bearing their father's boar coat-of-arms, and has a purse attached to her belt. Exchanging a glance, the two slip into the room, closing the door behind them. Somewhat unusually, both are barefoot.

'I'm Florencia,' confirms the green-eyed twin...

'Giliana,' offers the girl with hazel eyes then, looking at the flower still in Lady Rebecca's fingers, adds, 'you were doing magic, weren't you?! Can we watch? It's everso interesting!'

'Not as interesting as that knight of yours...' Florencia counters, fixing Lady Beatrix with a conspiratorial glance and smile, '... the one who couldn't keep his hands off you...'

'I thought you were going to marry Aydan?' says Gilliana with a giggle,'I thought he was "so cute you could die"?' Her sister frowns at her,

'That was years ago, when we were children!' she counters, 'Big, strong, handsome knights are a much better prospect for a Lady... wouldn't you say?' this last she asks of everyone in the room. Gilliana rolls her eyes and mutters,

'Two years ago... if that... and it's not like he's gotten any less cute...'

As the two girls enter the room, Zurladew gives a significant look at Rebecca, to impress upon her the need for silence. He then immediately shifts into his performer's smile, bowing low.

"Yes, my dears, it appears you've caught me in the act. Nothing earth-shattering, just little tricks to fool the senses and amuse the mind." A pair of pale yellow roses appear in each of the jester's hands, and he hands one to each of the twins. "Zurladew, miladies, known by those who find my antics amusing as the Wit, and known by those who find them less amusing... well, known as a dizzying array of less polite monikers," he says lightly.

"So you've notice both our strong man of the Strong Man and our Master Hunter, hmm?," the gnome says, grinning wickedly. "Master Aydan, I'm sure, would be happy to engage you in a sporting hunt, whether that were in the woods or in the walls of this fine castle - though your father, I'm certain, would be very alert as to which sort of quarry our forester pursued. Good Sir Jaymin, on the other hand, would differ if faced with such a proposition - so hot would his face burn that you'd think him channeling the fires Saranrae. Take care on approaching Sir Jaymin, lest the friction between his manhood and his virtue singe you!" Zurladew makes a mock noble pose, a parody of the paladinic virtue that Jaymin embodies.

Perform: Comedy 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23

When the discussions with the Knights finished, Aydan says his thanks and leaves the manor, heading back into the village. Recalling on his memory of the last time he was in Grimsmoor, he tries to find his way to the village's best watering hole, hoping to gain some more information... and maybe some fun as well.

knowledge local 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23

In Grimsmoor Manor's guest room:

Lady Rebecca notes Zurladew's look and remains quiet as he speaks... For their part Florencia and Giliana both laugh with delight at the jesters words and tricks.

'Sir Jaymin is it?' the emerald-eyed Florencia asks, 'He sounds like a... challenge...'

'Really!' chides her sister, 'You're incorrigible! What if the Lady here already has a claim on him?' she looks to Beatrix as she speaks...

Heading into the village:

When the discussions with the Knights finished...

What discussions? Neither Jaymin nor Garrett have posted for over a week!

Aydan finds himself faced with two possible choices of 'watering hole' as he heads back into the village - the main one is the tavern by the canal, but there's also a house down a nearby back alley he knows which acts as the local 'temple' to Calistria where one can get a drink and... other entertainments... as well. Deciding to start slowly, he heads to the tavern...

Once inside it doesn't take the well-known (and well-liked) forester much time to re-establish old friendships, and strike up a few new ones, as drinks flow and stories are exchanged...

Not much say at the moment, just waiting to go off after this Iron Maiden.

Has it really been that long? Sorry. I thought I could keep up despite moving this week, but I guess I've lagged.

"We know the Usurper has employed Galtan mercenaries to aid him. It'snot beyond possibilities that he's hired a magic user to keep one of the Baron's staunchest allies busy and away from the tournament."

In Grimsmoor Manor's guest room:

Lady Rebecca notes Zurladew's look and remains quiet as he speaks... For their part Florencia and Giliana both laugh with delight at the jesters words and tricks.

'Sir Jaymin is it?' the emerald-eyed Florencia asks, 'He sounds like a... challenge...'

'Really!' chides her sister, 'You're incorrigible! What if the Lady here already has a claim on him?' she looks to Beatrix as she speaks...

"Then I'm quite certain poor Sir Jaymin would hardly stand a chance, trapped between a pair of beauties like yourselves," the jester says. "I wonder whether he would be a challenge or a headache for you poor ladies. I imagine that at some point in the conversation his unfortunate tendency for blushing and stammering may get repetitive and much less amusing."

Aydan laughs and carouses among the people, taking care not to drink too much - at first at least - and to make mental note of all that he learns.

But as the night grows darker, he turns his attention away from duty, away from all he has to be and can not be. And with a devlish smile, he spots a comely young lass through the crowd,

diplomacy 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

And quite literally sweeps her off her feet.

Taking the girl - Sara, he would later learn - by the hand, Aydan slips an arm around her waist and twirls her into the center of the floor as the band plays a raucous jig, all around mugs slam against table and bodies fly as the reveries take hold. And Aydan laughs, feeling closer to himself than he has since this all began. The pain still lingers but for a short while, through the dancing and the drinking, and eventually to tumbling into a bed with sweet Sara, life has a bit of spark.

Barring any unseen circumstance, Aydan will untangle himself at first light, kiss the lass goodbye and head up to meet Jaymin and Garrett for the expedition.

I'm confused, who can't keep their hands off me?

He then rushes to catch up without answering any details. As he approaches the group (and the manor house) his gaze is drawn up, and his jaw drops. He is so distracted by what he sees that he fails to notice that the group has stopped momentarily at the gate and plows into Lady Beatrix, nearly knocking her over before he rights himself, accidentally, in his haste and flusterment, grabbing hold of Beatrix in several headsman-worthy areas before righting her as well. His face is still flushed beet red by the time they are shown into Sir Everard's audience chamber.

I believe this incident is what the two ladies are talking about - Sir Jaymin's clumsy collision.

I'm confused, who can't keep their hands off me?

... He then rushes to catch up without answering any details. As he approaches the group (and the manor house) his gaze is drawn up, and his jaw drops. He is so distracted by what he sees that he fails to notice that the group has stopped momentarily at the gate and plows into Lady Beatrix, nearly knocking her over before he rights himself, accidentally, in his haste and flusterment, grabbing hold of Beatrix in several headsman-worthy areas before righting her as well. His face is still flushed beet red by the time they are shown into Sir Everard's audience chamber...

The manor's great hall...

"We know the Usurper has employed Galtan mercenaries to aid him. It's not beyond possibilities that he's hired a magic user to keep one of the Baron's staunchest allies busy and away from the tournament."

'Hmmm...' muses Sir Everard, with a frown, 'I suppose it's possible: I'm not important enough in matters of the Imperial court that it'd be worth trying to capture or influence me, and my history with Otto is well known... Still, would Whitedragon have risked tipping his hand like that?'

'The risk may have been minimal,' pipes up Benedict, his fingers steepled in front of his face as he concentrates, 'after all, the Iron Maiden's done little but cause random distruption... which has been plenty to keep you, m'Lord, and your forces occupied, but which wouldn't require any real planning or strategy on the part of Whitedragon. A few coins dropped in the right palms to get the bandits to move the focus of their operations here, perhaps? Or maybe even less... just some leaked information about Grimsmoor, its strengths and weakness... enough to make it a juicy target. Little, if any, actual contact between the parties would be required - not a co-ordinated effort, but something more akin to driving a wild beast into your enemy's camp to keep him busy, and his attention away from you.'

Sir Everard snorts,

'If that's true, then others in the Barony may have had similar problems... didn't I hear something about a giant boar?' he glances up for confirmation from Garrett and Jaymin.

'Yes,' Benedict leans forwards, nodding, 'I believe Sir Jaymin may be onto something. With enough such incidents - locally dangerous, but not enough that Baron Otto's or Imperial involvement would be called in - Whitedragon could have quite effectively hampered the Barony's defenses... at least as far as his sneak attack was concerned... if that's what happened, then he's used the very nature of our feudal system against us...'

'You sound impressed, old friend,' notes Sir Everard with a raised eyebrow. Benedict looks up and scowls,

'Not so much impressed, m'Lord, as worried. You know better than I that while a strong arm can win a fight, it's a cunning and devious mind that wins battles... and wars...'

The manor's guest room...

"Then I'm quite certain poor Sir Jaymin would hardly stand a chance, trapped between a pair of beauties like yourselves... I wonder whether he would be a challenge or a headache for you poor ladies. I imagine that at some point in the conversation his unfortunate tendency for blushing and stammering may get repetitive and much less amusing."

'I like a challenge!' declares Florencia, happily. Giliana rolls her eyes,

'He's devoted to the Strong Man, you goose!' she counters, 'For him to be interested in you it would need to be a challenge for him... which hardly seems likely...'

Garrett nods in the affirmative about the boar...

"Indeed there was a rather large boar. We initially believed it to be attacking one of the local farmsteads, but instead it was being pursued by winter wolves. Likely the same winter wolves that are in league with Whitedragon. That being said, the issue with the boar was the day before the tourney, in fact we feasted on that boar the night before the event."

Garrett attentively listens to the remaining conversation between Benedict and Sir Everard...

"Regardless, the sooner we dispatch this Iron Maiden, the sooner your lands are safe and we can continue about the business of gathering allies to retake Lady Rebecca's home."

"The Usurper probably didn't think there'd be anybody close enough who could handle the boar so quickly."

'I like a challenge!' declares Florencia, happily. Giliana rolls her eyes,

'He's devoted to the Strong Man, you goose!' she counters, 'For him to be interested in you it would need to be a challenge for him... which hardly seems likely...'

"I'm sure you will present as much of a a challenge to poor Sir Jaymin as I suspect he will prove to you, though not of the kind either of you mean, good ladies," the jester says. "on these fields his might in arms will serve him naught, and that will be quite confusing to our paragon of chivalry."

"I feel I've intruded upon you ladies for too long though - perhaps you would care to continue your lascivious discussions without the prying ears of a jester about. Can I trust the three of you to keep good care of our Lady in my absence, while I see about where a man of my stature may find a place to sleep?"

'I like a challenge!' declares Florencia, happily. Giliana rolls her eyes,

'He's devoted to the Strong Man, you goose!' she counters, 'For him to be interested in you it would need to be a challenge for him... which hardly seems likely...'

After Zurladew leaves, Beatrix gives the sisters a playful look and says.

'Well you are certainly welcome to try, he's far too stogy for my tastes...'

The manor's great hall...

Listening to Garrett and Jaymin, Sir Everard grunts and nods,

'It sounds like a great hunt... but you're right... we risk spiralling into idle speculation. We have some solid ideas of what Whitedragon may have done and may be doing now, but it won't do to cloud our thoughts with such things before we have more facts to base them on. I suggest you two get some sleep: you can take any of the free pallets in the hall...' the veteran knight pauses, then shakes his head, '... No - why tempt fate? Under the circumstances I think you two would be better in one of the guest rooms in my family quarters... close to her Ladyship... and out of sight of too many prying eyes. Benedict - see to that personally, would you?'

The old scribe nods,

'Certainly, m'Lord.'

'Then return to me,' adds Everard, 'we have letters to write to be despatched first thing on the morrow.'

The manor's guest room...

'Well you are certainly welcome to try, he's far too stogy for my tastes...'

'So... he's mine for the taking?' asks Florencia (although it sounds closer to a statement than a question), with a sly twinkle in her eye. Giliana tutts,

'Don't you ever listen? He's devoted to contest - you'd do much better to have a romantic rival... and since Beatrix isn't interested, and I'm certainly not interested, that leaves you in a worse position with regards to stealing poor Sir Jaymin's heart!'

'Oh!' Florencia's expression falls at her sister's words... then a smile slowly creeps back onto her face as she edges towards Beatrix and places a friendly hand on the half-eleven woman's arm...

'Are you sure you're not interested in Sir Jaymin? At least enough to play along a bit... you don't mind having some fun with him, do you? After all, what better sport do we Ladies have than the teasing and tempting of knights... especially those of such high character...'

'Oh gods preserve us all!' exclaims Giliana, throwing up her arms in dispair, 'I swear, sister, I'm going to disown you!' shaking her head, she exits the room. Florencia glances over her shoulder towards her retreating sister, then looks back to Beatrix and grins,

'Don't worry - not a day goes past when she doesn't disown me... but come the morn we're still sisters... and neither she nor I would have it any other way.'

Okay - so anyone planning on anything specific during the night? Speak now or forever hold your peace! ;)

Zurladew takes his leave from the ladies, ingratiating himself amongst the help - joking with the maids, cooks, and assorted servants about the place. As he does, he keeps a careful ear out for any snatches of conversation that may interest him - it seems a good idea for him to information-gather, even if only to keep his ability to do so well-exercised.

Diplomacy to gather information: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

However, the rigors of the road have clearly strained on the little jester, and his jokes come across as a little too loud, a few of his barbs being a little too close to home. What he does hear is negligible (I assume), and before the night is too old the jester beds down in the hallway outside of Lady Rebecca's room.

The manor's great hall...

Listening to Garrett and Jaymin, Sir Everard grunts and nods,

'It sounds like a great hunt... but you're right... we risk spiralling into idle speculation. We have some solid ideas of what Whitedragon may have done and may be doing now, but it won't do to cloud our thoughts with such things before we have more facts to base them on. I suggest you two get some sleep: you can take any of the free pallets in the hall...' the veteran knight pauses, then shakes his head, '... No - why tempt fate? Under the circumstances I think you two would be better in one of the guest rooms in my family quarters... close to her Ladyship... and out of sight of too many prying eyes. Benedict - see to that personally, would you?'

"Thank you, Sir Everard. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated."

With that Garrett bows to the lord of the manor and follows Benedict to what is to be his quarters for the evening...

"Better get a good night's rest while we can Jaymin, seems like those nights will be few and far between for a while."

Zurladew finds the manor servants a little too tense to enjoy his humour - many appear to have family and friends who were attending the great Redwyrm tournament, and the stir caused by the arrival of Lady Rebecca (which is hardly a secret, considering the group's entrance...) and the rumours now flying about have everyone on edge... He ends up spending his time being asked more questions by those in fear of their loved ones' safety than he does getting any answers of his own...

Garrett and Jaymin, meanwhile, are led to a guestroom a little down the corridor from that assigned to Ladies Rebecca and Beatrix. There's little more than the one (double) bed, as well as a chest for blankets, and a small table with a bowl and pitcher of water for washing, but it's still more privacy than either of the knights are used to.

Anyone else for nighttime activities?

Only what's previously described, unless something happens

Well, now that Garrett and Jaymin have some privacy and this one bed...

Jaymin removes his armour with a sigh and leaves it outside their door for a page to clean/repair. He washes himself and checks the wardrobe for any spare changes of clothing. If he finds any, he'll gratefully change out of his three-day old clothes, otherwise he'll content himself with a thorough sponge bath at the washstand and put the dirty ones back on.

Once washed, he'll say to Garrett, "Do we dare both take our ease, even here, and sleep the night, or should perhaps one of us stand guard on the ladies' door? I would hate to insult our host by suggesting we don't trust his security, but the Usurper could have spies in Sir Everard's household."

The manor's guest room...

Quote:

'Well you are certainly welcome to try, he's far too stogy for my tastes...'

'So... he's mine for the taking?' asks Florencia (although it sounds closer to a statement than a question), with a sly twinkle in her eye. Giliana tutts,

'Don't you ever listen? He's devoted to contest - you'd do much better to have a romantic rival... and since Beatrix isn't interested, and I'm certainly not interested, that leaves you in a worse position with regards to stealing poor Sir Jaymin's heart!'

'Oh!' Florencia's expression falls at her sister's words... then a smile slowly creeps back onto her face as she edges towards Beatrix and places a friendly hand on the half-eleven woman's arm...

'Are you sure you're not interested in Sir Jaymin? At least enough to play along a bit... you don't mind having some fun with him, do you? After all, what better sport do we Ladies have than the teasing and tempting of knights... especially those of such high...

'I could make a go of it, but I'm afraid I've tipped my hand already. Wouldn't want to give the game away now would we?'

Well, now that Garrett and Jaymin have some privacy and this one bed...

Jaymin removes his armour with a sigh and leaves it outside their door for a page to clean/repair. He washes himself and checks the wardrobe for any spare changes of clothing. If he finds any, he'll gratefully change out of his three-day old clothes, otherwise he'll content himself with a thorough sponge bath at the washstand and put the dirty ones back on.

Once washed, he'll say to Garrett, "Do we dare both take our ease, even here, and sleep the night, or should perhaps one of us stand guard on the ladies' door? I would hate to insult our host by suggesting we don't trust his security, but the Usurper could have spies in Sir Everard's household."

Garrett proceeds to wash up as well, leaving his armor outside for a page to deal with, but keeps his familial blade with him...

"I would like to think that we could rest properly, but perhaps it would be best if we maintained watches this evening. Then again, I believe that Sir Everard said that Ladies Rebecca and Beatrix were to be taken to his daughter's chambers. The odds are that Rebecca will be safe there unless Everard is part of the plot, which I highly doubt. Another concern would be hovering about the door to our host's daughter's chambers. We wouldn't want to lead Everard to believe something untoward about us."

Garrett finds himself grinning a bit about that last comment...

"I know that wouldn't be the case, and you have your vows to vouch for you. Me on the other hand, I have only my word to protect me, and I find in matters of a father and his daughters, one's word is seldom taken at face value."

"Vows? What vows? Why does everybody always assume that we warriors sworn to holy causes automatically have vows against having a good romp in the sack? Makes us all sound like a bunch of uppity prudes or something! Of course, I would never dream of defiling the daughters of our gracious host, but that's simple chivalry and common decency, not some great and holy vow. And there would certainly be nothing unholy or unchivalrous about asking one or both of our host's daughters for an innocent moonlight stroll on the battlements, either. Of course, I would feel compelled to request permission of Sir Everard first, which is something I would not do of him tonight given the current mood or our arrival."

Sir Jaymin, slightly irked, makes his way out the door and towards the ladies' chambers. Seeing Zurladew innocently on guard where he and Garrett would be unable to go, he smiles. "I trust that you will keep the watch and sound the alarm at anything amiss, Master Jester."

With that, he retires for the night, grateful for some actual rest.

But he makes sure his sword and shield are within easy reach of his side of the bed...

Jaymin does indeed find some simple, but clean, clothes he can change into - and the manor staff are happy to wash (and repair where needed) his own attire (as well that of the other guests, of course).

'I could make a go of it, but I'm afraid I've tipped my hand already. Wouldn't want to give the game away now would we?'

'Oh, don't worry,' Florencia replies with a sly smile, 'I'm sure I'll think of something...' and with that bids Beatrix and Rebecca a good night, and slips from the room...

In the morning...

Zurladew is roused the earliest by the sound of tired pages trying their best to quietly replace Garrett and Jaymin's freshly polished armour by their door (and probably making more noise because of it...), but the others aren't too far behind as the sounds and smells of the manor waking to a new morn soon fill the air. The aroma of cooking bacon from the kitchens suggests that Sir Everard has left orders for a more substantial breakfast than the usual reheated leftover pottage or simple porrage, and those who venture down to the manor's hall are indeed greeted by an impressive spread with bacon, sausages, chops, kidneys, freshly laid eggs, wild mushrooms, hard cheese, and bread straight from the oven. The breakfast is washed down with tankards of cider, perry, or goblets of wine from Sir Everard's cellars. The few men-at-arms left stationed at the manor, as well as the other staff, seem eager to get at the fayre... once the guests have had their fill, naturally.

In the Ladies' room...

Lady Rebecca stirs and stretches, before washing and dressing. As she does so, Beatrix notices the young redhead lingering to stare at her own hands again... but she seems to shake off whatever thoughts are troubling her as she notes that Beatrix is awake,

'Don't tell Aydan,' she says, with a smile, 'but I'd take a soft bed over the hard ground any day!'

Suddenly she blushes, and quickly adds,

'... Not that I meant Aydan would have anything to do with my sleeping arrangements... just that he's a forester... and the way we've been living the past few days... and... oh... you know what I meant...' she finishes weakly...

Watching the manor bailey out of the window, Rebecca tries to change the subject...

'They seemed nice... the twins, I mean... I've met them before, I think, but don't really recall much about them. Everything seemed so different back then. The way you were all talking last night it... it seems like another world now: the games and the flirting and such simple girlish worries... I find myself wandering if we'll ever get that back...'

Meanwhile...

Aydan's stirred from slumber in the storeroom of the inn (where he managed to blag a choice spot to sleep atop a shipment of fleeces ready to be sent south to the wool merchants of the big cities) as young Sara slips from his arms, sparing him a brief kiss, then dresses before hurrying away, muttering something about her husband's boat being due in today...

A little later...

As Garrett, Jaymin, and Aydan meet up in the manor bailey, checking over the mounts the stablelads bring out to them, as well as the dogs Aydan requested, Sir Everard's twin raven-haired daughters - the green-eyed Florencia and hazel-eyed Giliana - each clad in a finely-spun woolen dress dyed a pale blue colour (but both walking barefoot), step over to them...

'We hear you're off to hunt the Iron Maiden,' Florencia says, long eyelashes fluttering as she smiles... mostly at Sir Jaymin. Giliana glances sidelong at her sibling, sighs and shakes her head, then says,

'You need to capture her, not kill her... the Iron Maiden I mean. We've learnt that if you bring her back here alive then we'll be able to offer you great assistance in your struggles against the white dragon. We...' she exchanges a quick glance with Florenica, who nods silently, then continues, '... we can't tell you how we learnt this... not now... not yet... but Father knows nothing of it, and we'd prefer if you didn't mention anything to him about what we've said. I realise this may make your quest more difficult, but...'

'But,' Florenica interupts, stepping a little closer to Sir Jaymin and looking up at him with her big, emerald, eyes, 'if anyone can bring the Iron Maiden back alive, then it's mighty warriors like you... men able to rise to meet any challenge...'

Sir Jaymin, slightly irked, makes his way out the door and towards the ladies' chambers. Seeing Zurladew innocently on guard where he and Garrett would be unable to go, he smiles. "I trust that you will keep the watch and sound the alarm at anything amiss, Master Jester."

The jester had been nearly sound asleep when Jaymin gave his rounds, but awakes with a snort and a start. "'Course I will," the little man says sleepily. "Raise the'larm and all that. To arms, foes at the gate..." He rolls back over, muttering fitfully.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Between Jaymin waking him during the night and the pages waking him in the morning, the poor lads really had no chance against the ireful sleep-deprived gnome. Rising ponderously from his hard nest on the ground, the gnome turns to bear on the pages with fire in his eyes. "Perhaps," he says in a dangerously calm voice, "perhaps you all have missed a few pointers in etiquette. Let me give you a quick reminder that frequently, when a lord has guests, that the guests would rather not be woken up by a pack of clumsy louts playing Bounce-The-Armor upon the floors of the halls, particularly when they've been hounded all the way across the fens from bloody Redwyrm!" Though his voice is quiet, the peevish anger in it rises through his monologue. "If I have one word of what a racket was raised in the hallway from a single lord or lady in my company, I promise that I will track each of you down and turn you into the foulest excuses for worms I can find!" Threat delivered, the cranky jester storms down towards the kitchens to ingratiate himself with the cooks.

It certainly wasn't fair, but mornings were never Zurladew's strong suit.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zurladew wanders out from the kitchens a little later, where he attempted to redeem his past night's ineptitude with a few jokes with the kitchen staff. His temper has quickly replenished from the goblet of wine that he has brought with him, and he swallows the last of the sizable lump of cheese that he liberated from the larders. He listens to the talk of the knights and Everard's daughters, eyes narrowed thoughtfully at the girl's cryptic warnings.

Knowledge: Arcana or Knowledge: Nobility to see if I have any ideas or rumors of what the girls may be talking about?
1d20 ⇒ 15
So a 23 Knowledge: Nobility to see if Zurladew's heard any hints of Everard's daughters possessing strange powers? Or a 22 Knowledge: Arcana?

With cool smell of fresh morning dew in his nose and a grinning whistle on lips, Aydan comes trotting into the bailey, cleaned and repacked with supplies as well as the two hounds - Watson and Holmes - barking at his heels. Aydan smiles at Garrett and Jaymin while checking the arrows in the quiver on his waist, "Morning boys, hope we all slept well?" he goes about checking his horse's saddle?

What kind of horse? light riding? and just so I'm clear is it not combat trained?

The early morning banter is cut short by the arrival of the twins - who before they can speak elicit a rakish smile from the forrester - until Giliana's cryptic words.

"How did.." he begins to question, before his mind flashes back to the drunk's rant the night before, Old Sot may have been on to something... he wonders to himself. Seemed far too fitting for convenience.

He nods once, solemnly, to the girls. "I promise we will do our utmost to bring her in alive. You have my vow,"

The 'spare' horses offered are heavy warhorses - the 'extras' belonging to the knights who've not returned from hunting the Iron Maiden.

In the Ladies' room...

Lady Rebecca stirs and stretches, before washing and dressing. As she does so, Beatrix notices the young redhead lingering to stare at her own hands again... but she seems to shake off whatever thoughts are troubling her as she notes that Beatrix is awake,

'Don't tell Aydan,' she says, with a smile, 'but I'd take a soft bed over the hard ground any day!'

Suddenly she blushes, and quickly adds,

'... Not that I meant Aydan would have anything to do...

Beatrix does a very good job of hiding her concern as she responds.

'Why don't you get some rest Becca, we've had a long couple of days.'

Aydan climbs atop his adopted horse, shifting a bit to get a feel for the saddle and reins. Slipping his feet through the stirrups, he asks the stable boy, "What's his name?"

"Cydwydd, sir." the young boy replies,

Smiling, Aydan pats the horse along its neck, "Well Cydwydd, I hope we become fast friends."

Handle Animal 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17

The horse turns his head into Aydan's pat, giving a happy snuff from his nostrils.

"I promise we will do our utmost to bring her in alive. You have my vow,"

As Florenica seems to be caught up in fluttering her eyelashes at Sir Jaymin, it's Giliana who offers the forester a smile,

'Thankyou, Aydan,' she appears to blush a little as she adresses the handsome young man, her hazel eyes having trouble meeting his directly, 'from all reports the Maiden is an evil monster, and I... we... realise that sparing her life will be difficult, but if you do I'm sure that we will be able to find the answers to many of the questions we all have.'

Any reaction from the brave knights? :)

Meanwhile, in the Ladies' guestroom...

'Why don't you get some rest Becca, we've had a long couple of days.'

'I've just had a good night's sleep,' replies Rebecca, 'or, at least, as good as any of us could expect to have under the circumstances... It won't do for me to hide in a bedroom all day. I realise that the menfolk have taken charge of all the... "strategic work" I suppose you could call it... and that we need to wait for things to happen, but if I don't do something then I'm not sure I'll be able to keep going...' she glances at Lady Beatrix with an almost pleading expression, adding, '... you understand?'

Glancing down at her own hands again and sighing, Lady Rebecca's brow furrows,

'Maybe I should try to learn more about this... this magic I'm meant to have inside me now? How spells are cast? Or, at least, what that strange language is I seem to understand in my dreams... or nightmares...'

Sir Jaymin looks shocked at Ayden. He exchanges glances with Garrett, makes an attempt at a secret gesture towards Sir Garrett which includes Ayden, the ladies, and a crotch area (Bluff to convey secret message: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20) and says, "It's highly unusual for knights of the realm to take their direction from the daughters of the local liege, rather than the liege himself. Certainly without a good reason, which I take it you are unwilling to provide?"

One thing of interest. Of all the characters I have ever played, roguish types, rakish types, secretive types, the only character I have ever had use Bluff to pass on secret messages is my dumb as a post, unsubtle in the extreme paladin! What's up!?

Garrett nods in acknowledgement of Jaymin and waits for the answer to Jaymin's comment...

Aydan's sense motive 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12 failed by 5 or more eh?

Aydan turns a disgusted look towards Jaymin, his face a mask of shock, "Jaymin, that's their father! Disgusting..." shaking his head in disgust at his uncouth companion, Aydan sighs and says, "If you don't trust them, trust me. I've reason to believe them, They are asking us on behalf of their parent, yes girls?" he smiles to Gilliana, gauging if he has the right of it.

Aydan's sense motive 1d20+1 failed by 5 or more eh?

Aydan turns a disgusted look towards Jaymin, his face a mask of shock, "Jaymin, that's their father! Disgusting..." shaking his head in disgust at his uncouth companion, Aydan sighs and says, "If you don't trust them, trust me. I've reason to believe them, They are asking us on behalf of their parent, yes girls?" he smiles to Gilliana, gauging if he has the right of it.

"Huh? Wha?" Jaymin asks, whipping around and his face red. "No! That's not what I meant at all! I meant-" He clamps his mouth shut.

He opens it again as if to speak, then shuts it and clambers up on his horse, completely forgetting to even pat it in greeting or calm it. The horse bucks a bit and rears about before he finally gets it under control.

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 17

Attention drawn by Aydan's outburst, Zurladew eyes are drawn to Jaymin. While he doesn't quite understand what the knight was getting at, he doesn't think that Aydan has the right of it. However, Zurladew was never one to let the truth get in the way of a jest.

"Well, Florencia, I back my former statements - apparently our Strong Man is capable of ribald jests that cause even our worldly forester to blush, even if it's only from a lack of understanding. Perhaps Sir Jaymin has other untapped potential that I simply haven't seen evidence of." He throws a roguish wink at poor flustered Jaymin. "Now, let us away and prepare for the hunt - assuming that one of you won't mind a small jester to ride on the back of your horse. I'd rather not take another impromptu bath for a while."

Florenica seems first confused, then amused, at the interplay between Aydan, Jaymin, and Zurladew, the young lady laughing lightly as Jaymin blushes and mounts up,

'It's not so much "direction", good Sir, as it is a request...' she replies, the amused smile still on her rather lucious lips, '...and I'm led to understand that knights of the realm undertake those all the time, when asked politely by Ladies of the realm...'

Giliana sighs quietly, shaking her head a little at her sister's antics, as she adds,

'Aydan is right, to a point... we believe that bringing the Maiden back alive will benefit us all... if only to help answer some longstanding questions...' her hazel eyes stare pointedly at Aydan... at least until he turns her way, causing a flush in the young woman's cheeks as she quickly averts her gaze...

"There you have it lads, can you really argue against that?" He trots Cydwydd over to Zurdalew and offers the gnome a hand up, "You can ride with me, Master Wit. If you can stand the forest for a bit longer, I have a feeling we're going to need your skills, magical and otherwise. And I'm probably a much comfier ride, no clanking suits of armour for you to fight against."

Assuming Zurdalew mounts up with Aydan, and neither Jaymin or Garrett object to moving on.

Aydan tugs on Cydwydd's reins, guiding the horse towards the gate, he turns and smiles reassuringly back to the Giliana and Florencia, "We'll return as soon as we can. Be safe, the both of you."

'I've just had a good night's sleep,' replies Rebecca, 'or, at least, as good as any of us could expect to have under the circumstances... It won't do for me to hide in a bedroom all day. I realise that the menfolk have taken charge of all the... "strategic work" I suppose you could call it... and that we need to wait for things to happen, but if I don't do something then I'm not sure I'll be able to keep going...' she glances at Lady Beatrix with an almost pleading expression, adding, '... you understand?'

Glancing down at her own hands again and sighing, Lady Rebecca's brow furrows,

'Maybe I should try to learn more about this... this magic I'm meant to have inside me now? How spells are cast? Or, at least, what that strange language is I seem to understand in my dreams... or nightmares...'

'That is a good idea Becky, perhaps Sir Everard can suggest a tutor. You have certainly exhausted the expertise of Zurladrew and I.'

I'll go ahead and assume that the Iron Maiden hunting party heads off then...

With Sir Everard's twin daughters watching them go, Garrett, Jaymin, Aydan and Zurladew ride off, quickly passing through the town and heading out towards where Sirs Bors and Cedric were meant to have been searching for the illusive Iron Maiden and her bandits...

A couple of hours slow and steady ride brings the small band to the spot - a lonely stretch of the canal with little but scrub and small outcroppings of moss-covered rocks lining the way. According to Sir Everard's information, his two knights (along with a group of his men-at-arms) were following up a tenuous lead on an abandoned row boat which had been spotted by a shepherd who'd happened to wander into the area in search of a stray sheep. The shepherd had apparantly noticed extensive bloodstains in the boat, before hurrying off to report his findings; the fact that several of the attacks attributed to the Iron Maiden were commited on relatively secluded sections of the canal, like this one, prompted the investigative efforts...

It doesn't take long to locate the row boat - dragged out of the canal (probably by Bors and Cedric's men) and propped on its side against some rocks. The bloodstains are obvious, covering the larger part of the small boat's foresection, although old and a little faded by the weather by now. Hoof- and foot-prints are all over the area, again suggesting that Bors and Cedric at least made it this far. Despite the time and rain which has occured since the tracks were made the group was large enough that it proves little challenge to Aydan's tracking skills, especially with the aid of Sir Everard's two best hunting hounds, to determine the direction they headed in next, and to follow the trail...

It's another hour or so's ride, carefully following the tracks left by Bors and Cedric's group as they lead away from the canal, before you spot the birds - a flock of ravens ominously circling above a sparse grove of craggy trees in the distance... As you close the dogs begin to get agitated, then the horses... and finally the stench of death hits all of you too... The ravens scatter as you approach, and a scene of slaughter is revealed...

Lying just within the copse are the mortal remains of the previous party sent to hunt the Iron Maiden, peppered with two score or more longbow arrows. The state of the bodies suggests that they've been dead for a day or two - exposure and wildlife both having obviously taken their toll. However, beyond the added damage from nature taking her course, it's clear that several of the corpses have been methodically mutilated by some less natural efforts. The two horses of the knights also lie dead, one of them with its head and neck, and part of one shoulder, ripped brutally from the rest of it...

An examination of the corpses shows that any obvious coin or valuables are gone, but that most of their armour, weapons and general equipment seems to have been left, although scattered about as if it had, at least, been searched. There's one suit of full plate, along with two longswords, two heavy shields, and two lances, apart from that there's a bunch of studded leather armour, daggers, and spears, along with a selection of mundane travelling stuff (bedrolls, blankets, and the like).

Meanwhile, back at the manor...

'That is a good idea Becky, perhaps Sir Everard can suggest a tutor. You have certainly exhausted the expertise of Zurladrew and I.'

Rebecca glances towards Beatrix,

'I was hoping to keep the fact of any magic or... draconic strangeness... I may possess quiet, at least for the time being... the less people who know the better,' she sighs and shakes her head, 'but I guess if you can't show me how to cast spells then I'm better off just trying to forget the whole thing, and hoping it never crops up again...'

Heading to the door, Lady Rebecca changes the subject,

'I hardly have much of an appetite at the moment, but it smells like Sir Everard's put his kitchens to some effort, so it seems like the politic thing to do to at least attend breakfast.'

It's a while after a hearty breakfast (where, despite her protests, Lady Rebecca's appetite proves better than she'd suggested) that Rebecca and Beatrix are approached by Florencia and Giliana. The twins exchange a glance as they walk over, smiling, before flanking Lady Rebecca and each taking one of her hands,

'There's something we'd like to show you,' Florencia explains. Giliana glances around, then adds in a cautionary tone,

'It's a secret... but we promise you it will be worth your while...'

'I... I don't know...' Rebecca stammers in reply, glancing towards Beatrix for her opinion...

Garrett looks around the scene in horror...

"And Sir Everard's daughters want us to bring back this butcher alive?!?"

Heal:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
Knowledge (Nobility):1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21
Perception:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Survival (Track):1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15

Rolling over one of the bodies... "Unfortunately, we've found Sir Cedric. No sign of Bors though other than his horse, or at least part of it."

Garrett continues to slowly walk and search about the killing field, pointing out something at the treeline...

"This looks to be where the foremost of the group fell." he says pointing to a line of small pits "Each just large enough for a man's foot or a horse's hoof. Looks like the bastards lined each of the pits with carved wooden spikes pointing up from the bottom, but sloping down from the sides. Several of the front line of men-at-arms, and the horse which wasn't ripped apart, appear to have stumbled into these things just before the volley of arrows hit them, the horse even breaking its leg as it fell. Be careful there are still more of these traps, untriggered, still covered by twigs and leaves."

Aydan, have a look at this will you? the knight says pointing at a few sets of track. "Looks to me like they took Bors. I would assume he was alive at the time."

A look of shock crosses the knight's face as he sees another set of tracks...

"Look at the size of that bastard! It has to be at least eight feet tall and three hundred pounds...also appears to have some nasty claws."

Knowledge - History: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1
Knowledge - Nobility: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Genius over here looks over the scene, looking at all the things Garrett points out, and nods sagely. He takes notice of the warning about the traps and goes about poking every pile of leaves with his lance.

Forgot about being able to make DC 10 Knowledge checks untrained.

Knowledge (History):1d20 + 0 ⇒ (2) + 0 = 2

Nevermind...

'I was hoping to keep the fact of any magic or... draconic strangeness... I may possess quiet, at least for the time being... the less people who know the better,' she sighs and shakes her head, 'but I guess if you can't show me how to cast spells then I'm better off just trying to forget the whole thing, and hoping it never crops up again...'

Heading to the door, Lady Rebecca changes the subject,

'I hardly have much of an appetite at the moment, but it smells like Sir Everard's put his kitchens to some effort, so it seems like the politic thing to do to at least attend breakfast.'

It's a while after a hearty breakfast (where, despite her protests, Lady Rebecca's appetite proves better than she'd suggested) that Rebecca and Beatrix are approached by Florencia and Giliana. The twins exchange a glance as they walk over, smiling, before flanking Lady Rebecca and each taking one of her hands,

'There's something we'd like to show you,' Florencia explains. Giliana glances around, then adds in a cautionary tone,

'It's a secret... but we promise you it will be worth your while...'

'I... I don't know...' Rebecca stammers in reply, glancing towards Beatrix for her opinion...

'You were the one who wanted to do more than sit around looking ladylike weren't you? Anyway, what's the harm?'

'You were the one who wanted to do more than sit around looking ladylike weren't you? Anyway, what's the harm?'

'Wonderful!' declares Florencia, even before Rebecca has a chance to confirm her agreement, and the twins start to lead the redheaded young noblewoman off...

... A little while later, after some sneaking around the manor and its grounds, avoiding guards and servants, and ducking through a small gap in the surrounding palisade (a covert path it appears the twins know all too well...) Rebecca and Beatrix find themselves being led across the moors by the barefoot daughters of Sir Everard. After putting some distance between the manor, the town, and themselves, Giliana points towards a tor hill in the distance, topped with some old-looking stone ruins overgrown with moss,

'That's where we're heading,' she explains, adding, 'don't stray too far along the way... the moors can be treacherous for those who don't know them...'

Rebecca glances around nervously,

'I'd feel better with a knight, or Aydan, around...' she mutters. Florencia giggles,

'Well, I'm sure we'd all like a big strapping man with us,' she replies with a wink, 'but this is a secret just for us girls...'

It takes an hour or so to reach and climb the tor. Up close the ruins seem to have once been a temple of some kind of the old Taldan style, with fluted columns and half-ruined statues scattered about. The central inner sanctum proves to be largely intact, and it's into this, down a short flight of steps, that the twins lead Rebecca and Beatrix. The chamber within looks to be maybe twenty-five feet to each side, the ceiling fifteen feet high and supported by the five columns still standing out of an original six. A circular pool, ten feet across, dominates the centre of the room, between the pillars and, perhaps surprisingly given the age and state of disrepair of the ruins, appears to still be full of clean, fresh, water.

The chamber shows signs of recent habitation - some bedding, makeshift tables and stools formed out of ruined pieces of masonry and scrap wood, and a firepit built up with sticks and peat. Scattered across the tables, and hanging from the walls, are various bundles of dried herbs and a multitude of pages of paper and parchment, covered in a variety of mystical-looking signs and symbols. Florencia and Giliana seem right at home as they head in,

'Welcome to our little hideaway,' says Florencia, taking in the chamber with an expansive gesture, 'where we keep all the things we can't tell Father about...'

Giliana glances at her sister, sighs, and shakes her head, before walking over to the firepit, holding out her hand, and speaking a word... there's a spark in the pit, and soon the fire catches...

'You,' Rebecca asks with a somewhat confused expression on her face, 'you're... sorceresses?'

'Well, not quite...' Giliana begins, before Florencia interupts,

'We're witches, dear,' she declares happily, 'just like our Mother before us!'

Pause for player reaction... ;)