Lazarus looks around the room, realsiing that now is not the time to be speaking of the Marquis' son. He would try to talk to Dougal about the others who had accompanied him though. The older one was poison on the boy, he was sure of it. People like that needed to be far from those meant to rule. There was a perfectly good war on the mainland that a man like that would be just perfect for, perhaps as an advanced scout. The little gnome made a note to mention it to Dougal before their business was concluded.
As Dougal picked up the maps, the little bard went back to listen. This particular job was becoming more complex by the minute and he didn't wish to miss any valuable information.
"Dougal, you have mentioned those we can approach about this incident, what about those who may have reason to see the Isles fall out of the control of the Marquis and his men? Who do you think would have the gumption and the guts to move so against the ruling family?"
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Dougal sighs again.
"The isles are not your mainland. The Marquis appointed a clan chief for Lochaude, one he trusted to keep the clans from bickering too much. That leader was Fiallad. Any of the smaller clans could be trying to cause trouble. I doubt its the wood elves simply because of the arrow used. Its too obvious, but they could be up to no good.
Then there is the Merchant League who finance many traders and various independent operations. They have access to many shady friends but Manart knows more about that.
And Fiallad had a way with the girls. Whether or not their fathers or husbands minded. But we had taken steps to ensure he didn't anger too many people by seeing him married off to a strong woman.
"Who else? I don't know? The uruks maybe."
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"So no more questions. The Marquis needs his rest and I have work to do. Here's a copy of the map of Lochaude Isle. Waynir, can you take these two to the wagon while we have a few last words with Armand and Vincent? Good."
Dougal pointedly waits for Waynir, Lazarus and Talfen to leave before he continues. Meanwhile he shuffles through the papers on his desk and produces a letter.
Once the gnome, the dwarf and the half-elf have gone, he speaks again.
Vincent/Armand
The Marquis speaks up at this point, "beware of my son and his knights. They have no love for me."
Then Dougal nods in agreement and adds, "there are forces at work here. This rebellion is not a matter of happenchance. Fiallad asked for our help not three months ago. He wanted a spy to look at the clan McGranar, the ship we sent floundered with all hands off the coast of the keep.
*****
Waynir and his two charges walk back up the stairs across the entrance hall with its banners of black and gold and out into the inner courtyard. They pass several burghers. Their eyes follow the strange group out under the inner gates across the bridge and through the portcullis to the outer courtyard. Beside the guardroom there are several troops and one sergeant, they all stand near an open topped wagon, laden with barrels of supplies and ready for the off. A young man, Florde, sits ready with his pony hitched.
"I'm ready sar."
One of the guards detaches himself from the others stood in front and strides up to Waynir. "Sar, cun yur tek ma onto yur sheep? cun tek care of masel' I cun. Name's Brunt." The man is strong and fresh faced with red hair and freckles. He carries his longsword at an angle with one hand resting on the pommel.
He takes his uncle's hand, not flinching at the gossamer skin and places it against his cheek. "Do not despair. I won't fail you. And maybe soon all secrets can be revealed and things set to rights."
Humming a few bars of "The Truth will out", a battle hym of the church used ont he mainland, Lazarus looks around and studies those who are talking to the dwarf.
The little gnome is on edge, having just been plunged deep into some political game of thrones, and his trust factor is not too high at the moment. He is confident in his Half Elven companion, and it was his experience that dwarves usually kept their word, buyt anyone else was making him all sorts of nervous at the moment.
FW
Cheers
Waynir is a little startled at the request, and asks Brunt; "Why do you wish to come aboard my ship?","Do you think you could be of some assistance?"
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Humming a few bars of "The Truth will out", a battle hym of the chur.....
..companion, and it was his experience that dwarves usually kept their word, buyt anyone else was making him all sorts of nervous at the moment.
FW
** spoiler omitted **
Lazarus
The man seems a little unnerved by the humming, strong and healthy the man maybe but as he speaks, Lazarus detects a narrowness around the eyes, and the occasional glance down over the dwarf's left shoulder and out of the compound to the main street.
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Waynir is a little startled at the request, and asks Brunt; "Why do you wish to come aboard my ship?","Do you think you could be of some assistance?"
The man waves up at the clouds being blown across the blue sky. "I cun sarl dum guid. An' figger'd an sword would be guid."
"An' yur sheep picks sum far old sarlin' quoit aital be sud side dur blazin' fire."
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** spoiler omitted **
Vincent/Armand
"These is a dangerous game. But do not worry about the lack of a true title," adds Dougal, "the clans view strength and honour, loyal and family far moreso than that. And Fiallad's wife will know more of the situtaion with the clans. Its a muddle this far away, and one that Fiallad was untangling for us."
Waynir weighs up the pro's and con's of letting another person aboard his ship, but quickly comes to the conclusion that, not knowing what they are about to face, another sailor/swordsman would be for the good of the party. He smiles at Brunt and says;"Brunt, I welcome you to join my ship and if you watch my back, should we meet any trouble, then I will watch yours, friend"
While the soldier ducks off to gather his kit, Lazarus moves over to Waynir and whispers into his ear.
FW/Waynir
"He's not to be trusted with your back good dwarf. The man is hiding something, and keeps looking across his shoulder as if being watched. Mayhap he's running from something, but may also be that he's here on other's command. Let's keep our eyes on the lad shall we."
The gnome also takes a glance back the way the soldier was looking, wondering what had his eyes so constantly drawn that way.
Waynir whispers to Lazarus
Lazarus/FW
Talfen waits quietly to board the ship, his thoughts darting amongst his experiences of the morning, and all he has learnt.
He’s not concerned by Brunt’s request, figuring that having an extra sword-arm along might be a good thing.
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Another smaller pony and trap is brought out, along with a pair of horses.
It has plenty of room for three people and their gear. An old man waits with his long whip in the air and the small side door open, chewing on an empty clay pipe.
The Marquis and Dougal finish with Armand and Vincent, and they soon meet up with the others outside. Their horses are also ready to leave.
Vincent/Armand
Brunt jumps up next to Florde on the supply wagon and slings his kit on top of the barrels. The longsword goes onto the bench between the two men.
Waynir
Lazarus jumps up onto the cart alongside the others. He calls up to Waynir "I have a donkey stabled here that carries some of my gear. How feel you good sir dwarf with taking my ass on your ship"
He deliberately puts a comical twist to the words, hoping to bring a lighter humour to the situation, but watches Brunt carefully while doing so. The little gnome realises none of them are armed since they were asked to leave their gear back in their lodgings. Now would be as good a time as any for them to be attacked, though he didn't really fear this kind of situation under the Marquis protection.
The bard sighed deeply, maybe his time in the warzones had left him too paranoid. A short stint in a pub with that fiery red hed he'd seen working the bar last night mught help him relax a little before this venture started. If they had time.
As the group emerges into the yard Vincent makes a bee line for his gear on the back of the cart. Immediately he begins to start donning his Banded Mail scanning the area for any signs of danger to his young master.
"Armand, sir, you'd put my mind at ease if you put your shirt on."
Once his armor is completely on he proceeds to strap his shield to his back and his sword back on his waist. As soon as he's fully geared up again Vincent seems much more at ease with a sword by his side once more. Vincent gathers their horses and proceeds to wait until Armand is mounted before mounting himself.
Armand acquiesces to Vincent’s request and quickly dons his armor and straps his blade to his waist before mounting his horse. “I am excited for an adventure. It has been far too long since we have had something productive to do.”
His voice lowers, almost wistfully as he says, “and besides, perhaps this will further us in our own goals.”
The long time companions make their way to the river mill, keeping an eye out for Talfen, Lazarous, or Waynir. “Do you think we’ll be able to trust them?”
Vincent smirks, “Mi’lord I trust no one. It’s my job.”
WAynir gathers his weapons, armour and other possessions from the pile on the cart and proceeds to put them on.
He then turns to Lazarus and says; "My friend, I have no place to put an ass on my ship, though you could tether him somewhere on the deck, but he would be open to the elements. Could this be an option"
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Eventually everyone is ready to move off. The pony and trap heads out first with Talfen and Waynir on board, the dwarf handles the pony well enough, a sign of his ability with animals and the time he has spent travelling back and forth from the ship.
Florde the driver keeps the cart in the tracks of the pony and every now and then flicks a whip at the pair of large horses pulling the supplies. Waynir keeps slowing the trap pony slightly to keep things together.
Armand and Vincent can move about the two vehicles freely on horseback and soon the small party have left the castle behind and slightly strangely are heading inland, away from the port. At the north gate, the burghers force a farmer and his sheep into the side so that the Marquis' dwarf can pass through. Beyond the gate the open moorland and straggly trees show the morning breeze bending the flora.
They are watched by several people standing by the Roast Mutton Inn, some are armed and one makes some joke as the pony and trap moves out. Two or three laugh in turn and one gets down on his knees and starts wagging a finger.
The sergeant of the burghers smiles and waves to Waynir and Brunt. Ahead the track heads downhill towards the bridge over the river Illin. A heavy stone bridge with drawbridges down on each side and several more burghers standing en garde.
The 40 foot wide river is visible meandering and narrowing behind the far hills to the north. The port of Illinburgh may be a busy trading post but soon the wagons will be alone, out on the moorland.
Talfen rides on the cart if there is room, or walks along beside if there is not, taking in the countryside and surrounds.
As they approach the moorlands, his eyes turn to look for danger rather than scenery.
Lazarus gathers his gear and dons it before the trip progresses too far. He leaves his pack and heavier gear in the cart, hoping to avoid encumbering himself and ensuring teh trip is comforatable.
When the warriors at the inn make their rude gestures he frowns slightly at the obvious short joke. He is tempted to return a gesture of his own, indicating short stature is well and truly compensated for by increased libido and stamina, but thinks better of insulting armed men in a foreign land.
He couldn't remember travelling through this land too much in his previous sojourn here, so he watched for a while in interest. Then he started a conversation wit Waynir, the dwarf was going to be very interesting indeed, especially if he were captain of a ship.
"My Dear Waynir, what on earth got you interested in sailing the briny depths? I would have though a dwarf more suited to mining and mage craft rather than taking to the oceans?"
Edit -
"Ahh, well I don't like leaving my Ass exposed. I guess I'll make reparations to have it cared for back here. I can always replace it where we're going." and with that, the little gnome allows that double entendre to rest.
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It must about a quarter hour later that the party sees a large copse of trees beside the river. The track goes straight down the slope and narrows a little through the pines.
Talfen has walked beside the pony and trap easily, able to keep up with the slow pace of the cart behind. When everyone hears a horse snort behind and looking back up the open hillside they can see several horsemen standing on the brow looking down. The cool noonlight shows off the heavy clouds of steam rising from each animal.
Slowly one of the men kicks his horse forwards at a walk and the others move in behind.
Waynir, noticing the riders following them, nudges Brunt and says;"Brunt, who are they?". Pointing with an outstretched stubby finger.
Vincent hearing Waynir's question to Brunt turns towards the source of his consternation. Once he spots the men on horseback he falls to the back of their small group to position himself firmly between the motley crew and the men approaching on horseback. He loosens the lance in the holster so that he may lower it and engage them if the need arises.
"What are the odds that those men are bandits? We're only a short distance from the town things couldn't be that bad out here could they?"
Talfen doesn’t know … but the back of his neck tingles, as if this might be trouble. Some sixth sense, or just his imagination? As he moves around towards the front of the cart (away from the riders), the words of a spell spring to his mind…
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Brunt shades his eyes a little as he looks back from on the cart and eventually shrugs. The soldier calls back to the dwarf, "dinna ken then." He pulls the longsword a little closer to himself as Talfen moves round the front of the cart.
Vincent adroitly manoeuvres his horse at the rear of the party, as they six horsemen pick up speed a little.
"Hi-yah!" calls the front rider at a canter now. The group is about 150 yards away and beginning to close the ground fast.
"This doesn't look good..."
DM:
The cool noon breeze slowly washes away the tension in Armand's shoulders as they ride to their destination. In the beautiful islands, with a misty blue sky and good company Armand felt happy. The simple joy of it all could be seen in the ease that he held himself on his golden mare and the smile playing on the corners of his lips.
But as the six riders crest the hill and start towards them the tension creeps back in. He tightens his grip on the hilt of his blade, but allows himself a smile. He positions himself in clear view, but behind Vincent (there is no point in making his old friend worry anymore than he already does).
"Well, this afternoon just keeps on getting more interesting, hmm Vincent? Gentlemen." Armand smiles at the others.
Waynir, seeing the riders speed up, mutters under his breath and taps the pony on to speed up to make for the relative safety of the copse of trees.
DM
DM
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The horsemen keep at a canter and quickly close in on Vincent, with Armand slightly behind. Now that the riders are below the horizon and out of the shadows some, everyone can make out that they are mostly wearing faded leather armour and carrying light shields. The shields are all unmarked, showing a mass of dents and bulges, testament to their past.
The lead rider reaches 25 yards from the group and then....
The cart is about twenty feet behind Armand, then there is Talfen in the growing gap between the cart and the trap. Brunt and Florde the driver are on the cart, Waynir and Lazarus are on the pony and trap.
Armand unsheathes his longsword and sets himself on the saddle. Remember to breathe, he thinks. "So I'm assuming you aren't here to see us off." He quips as they close.
Waynir thinks to himself, don't be hasty and waits to see if the riders wish to start a fight.
1D20+5 = 15, Delay action, if fight starts then :-
GM
Talfen crushes the square of butter he holds between his fingers, and hastily traces the shape of a square in the air with his now greasy fingers, while intoning words of minor power under his breath.
In response, a squarish patch of greasy film appears on the ground beneath the hooves of the lead horse.
Vincent calls out "I suggest you gentleman halt your approach and state your business otherwise it might be construed as unfriendly, and we wouldn't want that now would we lads."
Lazarus sees the trouble coming and uses the chance provided to head off a possible trouble he suspects fromt heir unexpected visitor.
Turning to Brunt, he chants a small verse about tru friends standing firm in the face of danger, sliding the magic of his charm spell into the lyrics.
The little bard wasn't sure if t Brunt was going to be an enemy or not, but he figured it was easier to explain his actions later, than try and survive an attack from an enemy in close range.
"You're a true friend aren't you Brunt?" he asks as the last notes ofthe tune finish.
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Lazarus calls on his magical music, as the two knights prepare for the riders.
DM Only
Brunt listens to Quint's question and shrugs, "of course," he shouts forwards to the pony and trap ahead from the cart.
As Vincent shouts one of the riders calls out loud, "remember get the dwarf."
At that the two leaders pick up speed and the other three split two going left and two going right around the track heading for the pony and trap. The pairs are about 25 feet away from the cart as they pass.
Talfen's magic fills the ten foot area of the track, getting the front horse and rider. Its legs splay out as the animal slides forwards tipping its rider onto the ground and he cartwheels away stopping in a heap.
The second rider has a little time and he prepares to leap over the strange patch of grass.
DM Only
Round One
Talfen 22
Vincent 20
Waynir 15
Lazarus 12
Brunt 11
Armand 10
Riders 9
Seeing danger approaching rapidly, Lazarus again calls upon the enchantment and trickery so native to his folk. A song of sleep and rest springs to his lips. It is lullaby that his mother used to sing to him as a child, but this one is laden withthe magics of his bardic talent and seeps into the minds of those without the will to withstand it. As the two riders approach, he drops the lullaby around them like a warm blanket, hoping to send either them or thier horses into a restful slumber and effectively out of the fight.
Vincent watches the horsemen split their numbers and makes a decision. Vincent spurs Roland forward towards the men advancing on the right gathering speed for a devastating charge. He sets his sights on the rider closest to the cart, he aims his lance for the riders chest betting that his opponent isn't exactly schooled in the art of mounted combat. As Vincent drives his lance forward at his opponent he gives Roland the command to attack.
"Roland kick!"
Backing away down the track towards the pony trap, Talfen already has the words of a second spell on his lips – almost by some reflex he did not know he possessed. This one a spell of defense.
Waynir, keeping a tight hold on the reins, smacks them down hard on the ponies rear, shouting "Get on". Quickly glancing over his shoulder to see where the riders are situated but still intent on reaching the copse of trees.
Armand deftly closes with the advancing rider. He takes note of the rider's partner, who having slipped in a patch of slick grass, lost his mount and barreled head first towards the cold earth. Armand smirks.
His blade flashes, and he knows as it comes down the rider will be able to block the misplaced blow.
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Backing away down the track towards the pony trap, Talfen already has the words of a second spell on his lips – almost by some reflex he did not know he possessed. This one a spell of defense.
Talfen reaches the relative safety of the cart and the ox, especially now that Florde has stopped pulling on the reins and the animal drops its head to chew on a clump of grass. Blunt is stood up on the bench of the cart and readying his sword and shield for battle.
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Vincent watches the horsemen split their numbers and makes a decision. Vincent spurs Roland forward towards the men advancing on the right gathering speed for a devastating charge. He sets his sights on the rider closest to the cart, he aims his lance for the riders chest betting th.......
..same time he does.[/ooc]
Vincent and Roland barrel into one horseman, taking the rider on the angle, he ducks and wrenches on the reins at the last moment but its all far too late. A look of horror takes over as the lance point hits his chest.