Tyronius does not allow his party to rest until they have ridden all the way back to Lastorn. By this time the sun has long since set, and all but Aerendir are weary from travel. More than once Nod slumps forward in drowsiness, narrowly catching himself before he slips from his saddle. Marabir lies in silence in his wagon, ashen faced and occasionally muttering incoherently. A heavy mist is beginning to set about them when the torchlight from the town gates come into view. The procession causes quite some interest, even this late in the evening, as they ride up to halt outside 'The Northern Pint'.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:39, Thu 28 Mar 2019.

"Acquire us rooms," Tyronius instructs one of his men curtly as he stiffly dismounts, "Aerendir, you will continue to tend to," he glances at the numerous faces glancing out of doors and windows about them, "'Sir Varonil' upstairs. I will see to it that you are provided with whatever this tavern can provide to aid in your efforts."

The words 'though I suspect that may be little' remain unspoken.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:43, Thu 28 Mar 2019.

"He'll be fine," Aerendir says. "The only thing endangering his health at the moment is your wagon. It's not like the thugs of Thane go around coating their swords in black lotus extract; he will recover in a week or so. If you don't insist on moving him again."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:46, Thu 28 Mar 2019.

Even as he speaks, the pair are approached by the guard captain.

"Prince Tyronius," he bows respectfully, bordering on obsequiousness, "Were you successful in locating Sir Var-" he breaks off as his eyes widen, alighting on Marabir's injured form in the wagon, "By Eurnir! What happened to him?"

"He was..." Tyronius debates just how much of his brother's encounter to divulge, "Waylaid by bandits," he decides at length, "Fortunately I came across him and was able to scare them off."

"These footpads are becoming quite a menace," the guard captain shakes his head darkly, "Wasn't that varim again, was it?"

Tyronius gives a slight smile.

"No, not this time."

"That we know of," Aerendir puts in darkly.

The guard captain gives a dark grunt of agreement with Aerendir, before bowing once more to Tyronius.

"Well, I'm glad you were there to save the day, Your Highness. If myself or anyone in this town can assist you in any way, you need only ask. I shall be in the guardhouse."

"Very good," Tyronius nods as the captain departs, before resuming his conversation with Aerendir, "I will not be waiting a week," he says flatly, "I am prepared to wait two days. If he cannot ride by that time, he will be travelling back to Carendisal in that wagon."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:12, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

"Your Highness," says Calvorn delicately as he joins them, "Perhaps it would be wiser to wait until 'Sir Varonil' is fully healed. As Aerendir says, the fastest way for him to heal is rest. I will dispatch a message to your father informing him of the situation."

Tyronius still does not look convinced.

"Which lords in this vicinity are loyal to the Carendils?" he asks the agent, lowering his voice, "We are too exposed in this village, and would do better in a fortified manor or fortress."

Calvorn considers this.

"Lord Borandis has a fortress up at the the Endal Foothills," he says, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "But it's two day's ride from here, and in the wrong direction from Carendisal. Lord Vordren's estate, perhaps? It's certainly closer. He has recently returned from the Southern Border, I believe."

Tyronius nods.

"Ride to Lord Vordren first thing tomorrow morning. Inform him we shall be joining him for," he sends Aerendir an unimpressed glance, "A week. Oh, and inform that guard captain to pass on the message of our whereabouts to Caled when he returns."

Calvorn bows respectfully.

"Your Highness."

With that he turns and strides off toward the guardhouse.

"You're picking now to be worried about Caladormists?" Aerendir says, unimpressed. "After charging in with twenty knights in full heraldry and openly telling everyone who you are? Look, the Caladormists are a bunch of rag-tag extremists, nothing more. If they were going to be a problem for you, I highly doubt you'd have made it this far north at all. They're not the sort of people who are idiotic enough to attack a prince of Thane when there are other heirs and several hundred witnesses to try their families with treason after their inevitable failure."
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:39, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

"I am not worried about anyone," Tyronius retorts coldly, flushing slightly at the many eyes that are upon them, "But one week is enough time for even the most unorganised rabble to launch an assault of some kind, and I do not intend to lose good men unnecessarily should someone decide to do so. We ride for the Vordren estate in the morning, and that is an order."

"Fine. Your Highness. But again, you are grossly overestimating them. The only good men you are likely to lose on this trip are three of the four you sent off with that assassin and the Lady Veldorn."

With this not very respectful statement, Aerendir stalks into the inn, apparently having a different idea to Tyronius's men about just what qualifies as an acceptable speed for getting supplies and services for Marabir. (And it's clear that, whatever Bernard the Barman's personal reservations may be at accepting a knight obviously favored by a Prince of Thane into his inn, he does remember Sir Varonil with fondness and he's sensible enough not to voice any doubts in front of twenty knights and one irate high elf armed with a pouch of carens.)
This message was last edited by the player at 01:53, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

The remainder of the evening passes without incident. Marabir is taken up to a room which the barman assures them is his finest. Tyronius nobly contents himself with the second finest, across the hallway. Nod insists on helping Aerendir look after Marabir, although this 'help' takes the form of Nod nodding off to sleep within less than ten minutes of reaching the room. Tyronius' guards take shifts, standing guard at the town gate, the tavern, and the stable while their companions sleep. It is not until a couple of hours before dawn that trouble strikes.

The pair of knights stand at either side of the gate, within the flickering firelight. The local Lastorn gate guard stands just inside the gate, struggling not to fall asleep in front of the pair. Neither of the three notice a shadowy figure streaking along the shadow of the wall beside the gate. The first thing the guard on the left feels is a dagger slashing his throat. With a garbled gasp he collapses to the ground. His companion has barely time to reach for his blade when a pair of crossbow bolts fly out of the darkness, each thudding into his chest. The shadowy figure finishes him off before he can even attempt a garbled cry. He then turns to the white faced Lastorn guard who cowers, speechless in the shadow of the gate, motioning for the lad to remain silent.

"We only want the Prince," he murmurs softly.

OOC: Cahlad Rayne dealt 28 points of vitality damage to Thanian Warrior.
Cahlad Rayne dealt 19 points of wound damage to Thanian Warrior.
Caladormist dealt 28 points of vitality damage to Thanian Warrior.
Caladormist dealt 10 points of wound damage to Thanian Warrior.
Cahlad Rayne dealt 14 points of wound damage to Thanian Warrior.

This message was last edited by the player at 07:41, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

The guard is quick to nod shakily, though he can't seem to look away from the body of the dead man and looks as if he is in danger of being ill.

The shadowy figure might be smiling under the mask which covers his face, giving the guard a bracing pat on the shoulder as he passes through the gate and into the shadows of the darkened town beyond.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:56, Wed 28 Aug 2019.

Inside the tavern, Aerendir, keeping watch next to the snoring Nod, stiffens and stands, shoving Nod's shoulder to wake him. Opening the shutters, he peers outside into the gloom.

OOC: Aerendir rolled 25 using 1d20+22.  Listen Check.
Aerendir rolled 27 using 1d20+22.  Spot Check.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

Aerendir can see no sign of the pair of guards who were stationed by the gate. He can see the town guard standing at his post as usual, however. Then suddenly he spots a shadowy figure moving through the street towards the stable, dagger drawn. The pair of guards who stand outside seem to quite oblivious to his approach.

OOC: Calhad Rayne rolled 18 using 1d20+14. Hide.

Aerendir also notices a number of armoured figures moving into the torchlight outside the town wall. He counts at least a dozen, though there may well be more in the darkness beyond. He also cannot see the gate on the other side of town from his position in the room.

Apparently deciding that regardless of motive, all cloaked figures heading towards the stable with drawn daggers are safe targets, Aerendir takes aim and fires.

OOC: Aerendir has dealt 43 points of vitality damage to Calhad Rayne.
Aerendir has dealt 9 points of wound damage to Cahlad Rayne.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:55, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

The figure below gives a yelp as the arrow strikes him squarely in the chest, and collapses backward, his dagger clattering to the ground as he clutches at the arrow protruding from him.

Aerendir becomes aware of a second figure below, that of Calvorn, who, partway through approaching the figure from behind, sword drawn, has paused to glance up at Aerendir. He nods, reluctantly impressed as he signals for the pair of guards by the stable to join him in dragging the injured assassin to the tavern.

From his position, the agent is unable to see the the army of warriors approaching the town.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan rolled 31 using 1d20+17. Hide.
Calvorn Areldan rolled 26 using 1d20+17. Move Silently.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:03, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

"Nod? Wake Tyronius, and tell him Aerendir says he'd better stop sleeping and start putting his full-plate on, because there's an army of thugs approaching. Once you have done that, barricade the door to this room," Aerendir orders. "I will hold you personally responsible if anyone gets inside. Understood?"

With this curt command, Aerendir climbs out the window, pulling himself up towards the roof for a better vantage point from which to watch the combat below, and target his fire.

OOC: Aerendir rolled 16 using 1d20+10.  Balance Check (to balance on roof).
Aerendir rolled 15 using 1d20+13. Climb Check (to get on roof).
Aerendir rolled 23 using 1d20+13.  Second climb check.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:09, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

Nod, still not entirely awake, blinks at the empty window for a moment. Then he gives a start, leaps up, trips over footstool in front of his chair with a curse, rises and stumbles to the door and out into the corridor.

"Tyronius?" he calls hoarsely, "Tyronius? I think you need to put on your full plate..."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:13, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

The door bursts open before he has finished speaking and Tyronius stands before him. He is fully dressed in his plate mail, and, judging by the sweat on his brow and the sword in his hand, appears to have been doing some exercise.

"What is it?" he demands, stretching one of his legs as he speaks.

"Army of thugs," Nod says, flinching back at how quickly the door opens, "Aerendir said I need to barricade the door."

Tyronius raises a skeptical eyebrow. He brushes past the minstrel and into Marabir's room.

"Aerendir, what is the meaning of-" he breaks off as he glances around the empty room, his eyes narrowing at the open window. He strides over to this window, and peers out into the darkened streets below. He frowns, not seeming to see anything.

"Aerendir?" he calls in a voice soft enough to avoid waking the sleeping village below.

OOC: Prince Tyronius Carendil rolled 13 using 1d20+7. Spot.

There is no reply from Aerendir, who is now perched on the roof, taking aim down into the streets below.

OOC: Aerendir rolled 42 using 1d20+22.  Spot Check.

"What is happening?" asks Marabir, who appears to have woken, and sits up, wincing as he clutches his side.

"You stay there," Tyronius replies curtly, pointing a stern finger at his brother as he strides past the bewildered Nod and into the corridor once more.

Marabir, who seems to have improved a little after a night, more or less, of quiet sleep, seems to be in no mood to humour his brother's instruction. He continues to pull himself up, uneasily, and hobbles over to the window. He pants as he peers out, leaning against the window frame. He also does not appear to see anything, and pushes himself away from the frame as he makes his way across the room.

"Pass me my sword," he winces to Nod.

"Um, I think Aerendir said he wanted me to, er, barricade the door..." Nod says hesitantly searches through the pile of cloaks and baggage to retrieve the prince's weapon.

"Indeed," replies Marabir as unsheathes the blade and tosses aside the scabbard, "Well, you'll have plenty of time to do that after I'm outside."

Nod doesn't quite seem to feel this satisfies the spirit of Aerendir's instructions, but technically the ranger didn't say anything about Marabir remaining in the room, so he makes no effort to argue.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:43, Fri 29 Mar 2019.

Tyronius, meanwhile, has almost crashed into Calvorn on the staircase to the taproom.

"What is happening?" he demands.

"An assassin, I believe," Calvorn replies quickly as he turns to lead the prince down the remaining stairs, "Aerendir shot him in the courtyard. He's injured, but alive."

Meanwhile, outside, the army which stealthily approaches the town has swelled to at least fifty men. They appear to be well armed, carrying a variety of swords, crossbows, maces and spears. Many are masked or wear helmets which cover their features. The foremost men have by this time passed through the gate and are within reliable shooting distance from Aerendir's position atop the tavern roof.

Aerendir takes aim at the thugs and fires.

OOC: Aerendir dealt 25 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
Aerendir dealt 25 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
Aerendir dealt 13 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:08, Sat 30 Mar 2019.

With cries three of the men collapse. The rest, realising they have been spotted and deciding there is no point in trying to remain hidden any longer, give a shout as they break into a charge toward the tavern. Answering bolts from crossbows are fired back at Aerendir, though only one well aimed bolt from a burly man in the crowd below comes close to striking the elf.

OOC: Galnor Veldorn dealt 20 points of vitality damage to Aerendir.
This message was last updated by the player at 12:11, Sat 30 Mar 2019.

"Son of a curn," Aerendir curses, as he barely rolls to the side, before resuming his fire.

A couple more of the men fall to Aerendir's well aimed shots before they reach the tavern and proceed to charge in. Hearing their cries, Prince Tyronius and the men with him stand ready to meet them, swords drawn.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan rolled 23 using 1d20+7. Initiative.
Caladormists rolled 20 using 1d20. Initiative.
Prince Tyronius Carendil rolled 19 using 1d20+2. Initiative.
Galnor Veldorn rolled 17 using 1d20+5. Initiative.
Prince Marabir rolled 14 using 1d20. Initiative.
Thanian Man-At-Arms rolled 10 using 1d20. Initiative.

The first of the attackers to enter finds one of Calvorn's arrows in his throat as he crashes forward with a garbled gasp. The ranger, crouched behind the cover of an overturned table, swiftly fits another arrow to his bow as he prepares to fire once more.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan dealt 18 points of wound damage to Caladormist.

The attackers swarm forward, engaging the men-at-arms inside throughout the taproom as a chaotic skirmish ensues. Windows are shattered and tables and chairs snapped and splintered as swords, spears, bolts and arrows flash in all directions.

Alphard the barman, roused by the commotion, emerges briefly from a door leading down to the kitchen area, takes one look at the chaos, and closes it hurriedly. The sharp-eared hear the lock click a moment later.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:39, Sat 30 Mar 2019.

Tyronius easily dodges the blows of the first two men to reach him, slashing the first across the chest and impaling the second. The men behind hastily come to a halt, circling the prince warily, weapons held at the ready.

OOC: Prince Tyronius Carendil dealt 25 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
Prince Tyronius Carendil dealt 32 points of vitality damage to Caladormist Man-At-Arms.
Prince Tyronius Carendil dealt 15 points of wound damage to Caladormist Man-At-Arms.

Smashing a hole in a nearby window, one of Tyronius' men fires a bolt from his heavy crossbow out into the street. There is a cry as one of the attackers collapses, and the soldier hastily ducks to reload and avoid the answering bolts which hiss over his head. He rises a moment later to fire a second bolt, but while this one also brings down an attacker, he is not so fortunate, taking a bolt in the shoulder as he collapses back, gasping in agony.

OOC: Thanian Man-At-Arms dealt 14 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
Thanian Man-At-Arms dealt 17 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
Caladormist dealt 13 points of vitality damage to Thanian Man-At-Arms.
Caladormist dealt 19 points of vitality damage to Thanian Man-At-Arms.
Caladormist dealt 8 points of wound damage to Thanian Man-At-Arms.

The burly man who fired at Aerendir enters the taproom at that moment, eyes narrowed as he takes in the chaos before him. He takes one look at Tyronius, who has already sent another three men crashing to the ground, and firmly decides not to move anywhere near the prince. He glances at the pair of men who have entered behind him, before jerking his head at the staircase and making for it, dodging and ducking his way through the melee.

"Find my niece," he grunts to the pair.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:32, Sat 30 Mar 2019.

Nearby three of the attackers have managed to surround one of Tyronius' men, and while he stabs one of them with his blade, the other two slash him across the back and side, sending him collapsing to the ground.

OOC: Thanian Man-At-Arms dealt 15 points of wound damage to Caladormist.
Caladormist Man-At-Arms dealt 13 points of vitality damage to Thanian Man-At-Arms.
Caladormist Man-At-Arms dealt 9 points of vitality damage to Thanian Man-At-Arms.
Thanian Man-At-Arms dealt 12 points of vitality damage to Caladormist Man-At-Arms.
Caladormist Man-At-Arms dealt 10 points of vitality damage to Thanian Man-At-Arms.
Caladormist Man-At-Arms dealt 8 points of wound damage to Thanian Man-At-Arms.

The burly man reaches the foot of the stairs, his pair of guards in toe, but pauses on the second step. Before him, halfway up the staircase, Marabir stands, doing his best to look steady, sword raised before him. The burly man's eyes widen in recognition and surprise.

"Prince Marabir?" he asks incredulously.

"Not one step further," Marabir warns, doing his best not to look like he is not on the verge of collapse.

The burly man seems convinced, and also seems to know something of Marabir's reputation as a swordsman, as he takes a cautious step back, glancing at the guards behind him.

"Take him," he instructs them curtly.

The pair of men do not seem much more thrilled by the prospect of engaging the prince in combat than the burly man does, but they advance dutifully, the braver of the pair making a lunge at the prince, who parries the blade.

Marabir swiftly lunges back at the man, gashing him across the arm. He winces as he does so, clutching his bandaged chest beneath his tunic.

OOC: Prince Marabir Carendil dealt 32 points of vitality damage to Caladormist Man-At-Arms.
Prince Marabir Carendil dealt 8 points of wound damage to Caladormist Man-At-Arms.

The second of the guards seems to gain confidence upon seeing Marabir's weakened state, and swiftly leaps up to slash at the prince. With great effort Marabir manages to dodge the man's blow, sending him stumbling into the wall beside them, but the injured guard takes this opportunity to stab at Marabir's exposed back. His blade cuts deeply into the prince, and with a cry Marabir's sword slips from his grasp and he collapses backward onto the staircase, his head giving a nasty clunk as it collides with one of the steps.

OOC: Caladormist Man-At-Arms dealt 6 points of vitality damage to Prince Marabir Carendil.
Caladormist Man-At-Arms dealt 9 points of wound damage to Prince Marabir Carendil.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:49, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Marabir's attackers curse a moment later as a pair of arrows whistle toward them from the direction of the tavern below. However it is Calvorn's turn to curse as both fly wide of their targets, the first thunking into one of stairs above them and the second skittering harmlessly along the landing above.

The burly man wastes no time in pushing forward to heave up Marabir's unconscious form and hold it protectively before him, his blade at the prince's throat.

"Prince Tyronius!" he shouts, then, louder, "Prince Tyronius! Tell your men to stand down!"

The shouting and chaos within the taproom die down somewhat as all eyes are turned to where the man stands on the staircase. Tyronius, who by this time has more than a dozen dead and injured attackers scattered on the floor about him, glances up at where his brother hangs limply in the man's grasp, eyes narrowing.

The burly man smiles grimly.

"Tyronius," he repeats a third time, slowly, "Stand down, and tell your men to do the same, or your brother dies. That's right, I know who he is. Now, do as I say."

Tyronius looks as though he wouldn't mind killing Marabir himself right now. A muscle in his jaw spasms slightly as he glares at the burly man. His men glance uncertainly at Marabir, then to him questioningly.

"I will stand down only on the condition that my men go free, and my brother is not harmed," he says tersely.

This seems to be the reaction the burly man was hoping for, and his smile turns smug.

"I can hardly let your men go free," he chuckles, "They will be taken prisoner, but not harmed. How does that sound? As for your brother, well, it's a bit late to promise he won't be harmed," he pauses for a few of his men to guffaw, "But we'll do our best to keep him alive. Sound fair?"

Tyronius considers this, but does not lower his sword.

"And how do I know you will uphold your side of the arrangement?" he asks coldly.

The burly man gives an insincere hurt look.

"Tyronius, you don't trust me?"

Tyronius smiles grimly and does not lower his blade.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:52, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Galnor returns a cruel smile of his own, before shrugging.

"Try me if you want to see if I'm bluffing," he says coolly, "I've got you outnumbered ten to one and I've no qualms killing your brother if you want to play it that way."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:55, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Calvorn glances at Tyronius, his bow trained on the part of Galnor's head that is visible behind Marabir.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:57, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Those of Tyronius' men still standing also glance at the prince uneasily, their swords held defensively before them.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:59, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

"If even one of my men is harmed..." Tyronius says dangerously as he lowers his blade a few inches.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:01, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

"Come now," Galnor scoffs, looking at the men around him to back him up, "When a Veldorn gives his word, it's as good as gold. Now, I don't have all day. So am I sparing Marabir or killing him?"

As he speaks he presses his blade closer to Marabir's neck, drawing a trickle of blood.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:03, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

The muscle in Tyronius' jaw spasms once again as he glares at Galnor. However he nods resignedly and reluctantly lets his blade fall to the floor.

"Very well," he says coldly, gesturing for his men to do the same.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:05, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Tyronius' men about him reluctantly do the same, tossing their swords and crossbows onto the floor.

"Wise choice," Galnor smiles coldly as with a jerk of his head two of his men hurry forward to grab Tyonius and force the princes' arms behind his back.

"Now, tell that curn of an elf of yours to come down from the roof. The boys are getting sick of his annoying arrows up there."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:08, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Tyronius stares stonily back at him as his arms are forced behind his back.

"Surely you can deal with one elf," he says coolly.

Galnor smiles thinly back at him.

"Search the rooms," he instructs his men, "And bring Tyronius outside."

With that he shoves Marabir's unconscious form into the hands of the pair of men beside him and marches outside the tavern once more. He places his blade at the throat of Tyronius and peers up into the darkness above the tavern.

"All right elf!" he calls, "It's over. Surrender yourself and get down here, otherwise Tyronius' tale ends here."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:13, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Tyronius does not appear at all perturbed by the sword at his throat while they await a response.

"Do you really think, Veldorn," he says after a few moments of silence, "That he would be foolish enough to wait around after you had captured my brother and I?"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:14, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Galnor shoots him a dirty look, but does not give up.

"You here me elf?" he calls again, "Last chance. Surrender yourself."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:15, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

"I will surrender myself on the condition that neither Tyronius nor Marabir will be harmed for one week, and that I will be allowed to attend to Marabir's wounds. That's assuming I can restrain myself from strangling him myself. Well?" Aerendir calls down from the roof, lining up a shot in case the answer is no.

Galnor gives Tyronius a smug smile, before glancing up at the tavern roof once more.

"A week?" he repeats, "That's very specific."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:16, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

"It is. But one week it is. 'Not harmed today' can be interpreted as being killed tomorrow, which is obviously not what I want, or worth agreeing to. Assuming you actually keep your word."
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:18, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Tyronius waits patiently while the pair negotiate.

"Why does no one trust me?" Galnor once more glances at the men around him, sounding hurt, "All right, neither Marabir or Tyronius will be harmed for a week from now. However, the deal if off if they try to escape, or if they or their allies attempt to attack my men. Deal?"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:21, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

"That is fair," Aerendir allows, "But if any of their men-- or anyone who isn't their men, for that matter-- try to rescue them without them organising it or participating in it, then it doesn't count as them trying to escape or breaking the agreement, and the agreement will still be valid. Your men can only harm the attackers. And as I mentioned before, I will be allowed to attend to Marabir's wounds until he is recovered. Agreed?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:52, Sun 31 Mar 2019.

Galnor rolls his eyes.

"Yes, yes, agreed," he sighs, then in a lower voice to a nearby mercenary, "You need a bloody lawyer here for these deals."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:25, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

"Good," Aerendir says, with ill-grace, descending from the roof and landing lightly on the ground. "If any of your men damage my bow, by the way, I will be holding you personally responsible," he says, passing it to one of Galnor's thugs, along with his quiver and a small hunting knife and all of the stolen poisons. "Those aren't mine, by the way. I acquired them off a varim who I found wandering these lands, who Marabir wouldn't let me kill. He's probably still wandering around somewhere if you want to deal with him for me, since obviously things like laws and treaties aren't something you consider binding. Now, lead me to Marabir, so I can heal him up enough to punch him in the face."

If it occurs to Aerendir that it's not a very good idea to send a bunch of Caladormists off after a varim who is (supposedly) riding around with four knights carrying Tyronius' personal seal, it is obviously not a consideration that weighs heavily with the high elf.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:25, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Galnor's men take Aerendir's weapons, eyeing them suspiciously as though they expect the bow to suddenly summon an arrow and shoot of its own accord.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:26, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Judging by Galnor's expression, hunting down a varim assassin seems to be the last thing he would attempt. He gestures to a nearby guard.

"Bring Marabir out here and put him in the wagon. The rest of you, round up the wounded and prisoners. We depart in half an hour."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:27, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Meanwhile, the mercenaries upstairs have broken their way through Nod’s makeshift barricade, and storm into the room. The first moves over to the open window, glancing out, while his companion stoops to peer under the bed. As he rises, the thug glances at the wardrobe in the corner. It is slightly ajar, and even as he watches, it seems to close slightly. He tilts his head as it once more creaks open a crack, the is surreptitiously pulled closed once more. He nudges his companion as the pair make their way over to the wardrobe and tear open the door.

OOC: Nod the Minstrel rolled 5 using 1d20+1. Hide.
Caladormist rolled 11 using 1d20. Spot.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:04, Mon 01 Apr 2019.

Poor Nod is sent sprawling out onto the floor before the pair of mercenaries.

"Got ya!" grins one of the pair triumphantly.

Nod quickly pulls himself up, straightening his collar and assuming the haughtiest look he can muster.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demands, "More of Prince Tyronius' ruffians, I take it?"

OOC: Nod the Minstrel rolled 24 using 1d20+8. Bluff.

The smug looks on the men before him morph into looks of uncertainty and confusion.

"Tyronius' men?" one of them repeats, frowning.

OOC: Caladormist rolled 5 using 1d20-1. Sense Motive.

"Indeed," Nod replies huffily, "Just because he's a prince he thinks he can barge into any tavern he pleases and throw travellers out of the finest room after they have paid in full!"

"Ye ain't with the Carendils?" the other man asks, scratching an ear, "But then why'd ya barricade the door?"

"I most certainly am not," Nod lies disdainfully, "I am Elansir the Merchant, from the land of Verindisal. And you would barricade your door too, if an elf came barging in out of nowhere with a drawn bow and climbed through your window."

OOC: Nod the Minstrel rolled 23 using 1d20+8. Bluff.

By this time the pair are starting to look decidedly sheepish. One of them, however, seems determined to justify himself.

"Merchant, eh?" he says, "Well where's ya wares then?"

OOC: Caladormist rolled 5 using 1d20-1. Sense Motive.

To the man's dismay, Nod does not seem at all put off by this question. He reaches into his pack and smoothly withdraws his mandolin.

"Musical instruments. Hand crafted by the elves of Redwood themselves," he says proudly, "They say the melody of that land can still be heard when one plucks its strings."

The men wouldn't know instrument fashioned in Redwood from one fashioned in Malrad, but, faced with this final piece of evidence they have little choice but to sheepishly retreat, murmuring something partway between curse and apology as they disappear back down the corridor.

Aerendir, meanwhile, makes himself busy with attending to Marabir's wounds again as the Prince is carried out to the wagon, glaring fiercely at the unconscious Prince all the while. (There is more than a little badly disguised worry underneath his anger as he looks at the deep gashes across Marabir's chest, though.)

OOC: Aerendir rolled 26 using 1d20+10.  Treat Injury (Marabir).
This message was last edited by the player at 23:28, Mon 01 Apr 2019.

The barman has taken the opportunity to inch out of the kitchen, and assure an authoritative-looking man-at-arms that if the men fancy a pint of Northland Ale in celebration of another blow well-struck against those upstart Carendils, they are very welcome to take a keg or three with them back north. (He waits until Tyronius and his men are out of earshot to emerge and make this offer, though.)

The man-at-arms also waits until Galnor is out of earshot to accept the offer.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:29, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

As Aerendir tends to Marabir in the wagon, Galnor pulls one of his men aside, whose air and attire is more akin to a knight than a mercenary.

"Valdan, you take the princes' men back up the northwest road. We'll take the northern road directly to Calarn. Once you're out of sight and earshot, kill them all."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:03, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Valdan frowns, glancing over to the other side of the street where Tyronius' men are being shoved into a pair of appropriated wagons.

"But m'lord, didn't you give your word that they would not be harmed?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:43, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Galnor shrugs.

"What Tyronius doesn't know won't hurt him," he replies dismissively.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Valdan continues to frown, unconvinced.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:50, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Galnor raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you've suddenly developed a conscience?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

"You know I would gladly see them all dead," the other returns evenly, "But you gave your word, and not breaking oaths is what distinguishes us from those Carendils."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:51, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

"Have it your way," Galnor replies after a moment with another shrug, "Just don't blame me if things don't end well"

With that he strides over to another man, burly and with a more malicious demeanor.

"Dared, take some of the boys and go with Valdan's men and the prisoners and injured," he pauses to glance around cautiously before leaning in closer, "See to it that you are 'attacked by bandits'. No survivors. Tyronius' or Valdan's men. Understood? Make for Calarn after the job is done. I'll see that you are well rewarded."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:59, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

The man responds with a cruel grin.

"No survivors," he repeats with a nod.

Galnor returns the thug's smirk, before beginning to make his way back over to where Tyronius stands beside the cart in which Aerendir is tending Marabir. Before he reaches them, however, he is intercepted by Valdan, one hand firmly clasped about the arm of none other than the guard captain, Caln, whose arms are bound behind him.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:04, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"Veldorn, what shall we do with him?" Valdan asks, "Apparently he wasn't happy to stay out of things like the rest of the town guard. Killed two of our men, and injured another."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:06, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"You're a traitor and a curn," growls the guard captain defiantly, "King Algedain will bring you to justice, you'll see!"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:06, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Galnor smiles coldly.

"Toss him in with the rest of Tyronius' men. He'll be dealt with in due course."

He shares a knowing smirk with Dared.

"And someone gag him, for Camendur's sake."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:10, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"Long live King Algedain! Long live the Carendils!" shouts Caln as he is dragged off, "Long live Prince Marabir! Long live-" the remainder of his sentence is lost in a series of mumbles and growls as a gag is forcefully tied over his mouth.

Aerendir scowls heavily as his sharp gaze moves between Galnor and Dared, however as Galnor continues his approach he makes himself busy with dressing Marabir's wounds once more.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:18, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

As Galnor reaches them the last of his men returns from searching the tavern.

"Ya neice ain't in there," he says gruffly, "Only a couple'o merchants and some farmer's lad from Calanor."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:19, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Galnor gives a growl of frustration as he turns on Tyronius.

"All right," he says tersely, "Where is she?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:20, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Tyronius raises a disdainful eyebrow.

"I'm afraid you will have to be more specific," he says unhelpfully.

Galnor sends him a dangerous smile.

"My niece," he says through gritted teeth, "Lyria. I know she was with you. Where have you hidden her?"

Tyronius shrugs and remains silent.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:38, Wed 03 Apr 2019.

Galnor snarls and gives the prince a heavy backhand across the face.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:39, Wed 03 Apr 2019.

Aerendir glances sharply up from his efforts to glare at Galnor.

"So much for your word being 'good as gold'," he says evenly, "Or do you not understand what the phrase 'neither Marabir or Tyronius shall be harmed' means?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:23, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"You shut your mouth elf," Galnor snarls back, teeth gritted as he rubs his hand sulkily.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:25, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Tyronius, who has barely flinched, smiles coldly as he continues to stare at Galnor.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:27, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"You'll regret crossing me," Galnor growls at him as he gestures for a pair of his men to hoist Tyronius into the wagon.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:29, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"Ironic," Tyronius replies as he is shoved roughly into the wagon, "I was about to tell you the same thing."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:30, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Galnor shakes his head and sends Aerendir a venomous glare. Then he turns to the rest of his men.

"All right boys, let's move out!"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:31, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Valdan gives a curt nod.

"You heard him men!" he shouts as the wagons containing the prisoners and injured rumble off down the muddy road to the northwest, the mercenaries trotting their mounts beside them.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:33, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Calvorn, bundled in with the rest of Tyronius' men, exchanges a grim nod with Aerendir as his cart trundles off. Pressed against the back of the cart, he glances around surreptitiously shifting his bound hands to slip a small dagger from his boot which he slides up his sleeve.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:38, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Aerendir resumes his tending to Marabir, though he does spare the man driving the wagon an unimpressed glare as it sets off with a violent jolt.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:40, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

The two parties make their way in procession to the town gate, where they branch off, Tyronius' men and the injured taking the road to the northwest, while Galnor and the larger portion of his forces escort the wagon containing the princes set off due north in the direction of Calarn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:44, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"Worst of all, we missed breakfast," Aerendir mutters to Tyronius as they bounce and jolt along the road into the sparsely wooded lands which are becoming all too familiar.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:46, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Tyronius doesn't grace this comment with a response.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:47, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

The sun has just begun to climb over the mountains to the north as they round a bend in the road and Lastorn is lost from view.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:48, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Inside the tavern, Nod peers cautiously out of the window as he watches them leave. The moment the last of the riders has disappeared through the town gate, he swiftly darts out into the corridor, keeping a wary eye for any sign of the barman or tavern staff. He winces at every creak along the landing, and curses as he almost slips in Marabir's blood on the stairs.

OOC: Nod the Minstrel rolled 7 using 1d20+1. Hide.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 7 using 1d20+1. Move Silently.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 11 using 1d20. Spot.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 8 using 1d20. Listen.

Luckily for Nod, the barman seems prepared to turn a blind eye to these creaks, whistling very loudly as he scrubs the bloodstains out as best as he can from the floor. The barman's back is facing the stairs and the door to the tavern.

OOC: Alphard the Barman rolled 4 using 1d20. Spot.
Alphard the Barman rolled 17 using 1d20. Listen.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:32, Wed 03 Apr 2019.

Nod holds his breath as he tiptoes across the taproom behind the barman, holding a ceramic pitcher from his room upstairs threateningly, lest the man happen to glance around. He reaches the door successfully and slips out. He reappears a couple of seconds later to place the appropriated pitcher carefully on a table beside the door, before exiting a second time. He continues to hold his breath as he edges his way cautiously along the outside of the building, peering into the darkened streets for any sign of danger.

With great effort he refrains from doing his own theme music.

OO: Nod the Minstrel rolled 14 using 1d20+1. Hide.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 17 using 1d20+1. Move Silently.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 18 using 1d20. Spot.
Nod the Minstrel rolled 14 using 1d20. Listen.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:34, Wed 03 Apr 2019.

While Galnor's men have done a good job of leaving nothing of value behind, the signs of battle still remain. The ground is churned up and there a few dozen crossbow bolts stuck in the tavern roof from where the assailants were clearly firing blindly at Aerendir on the roof. The townsfolk seem largely to have hidden indoors while the fighting took place, though a brave face or two has begun to peek out from nearby windows now that the roar of the fighting has died down.

Luckily for Nod, Galnor's men were in too much of a hurry to raid the stables, and a whinny from that direction indicates that at least one of the horses hasn't been harmed in the fight.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:50, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Nod steals into the stables, and seems quite relieved to see his bay mare among the remaining horses. He gives a grunt of surprise a moment later as he collides with the bulky form of a dwarf partway through backing out of one of the stalls, leading a small pony.

"Pardon me..." Nod says hastily as he rubs his knee.

The dwarf barely seems to notice him.

"'Stay for the Lastorn Fair'," he mutters, "'Not to be missed'. Bah! That be the last time I let a bloomin' barman talk me into stayin' a few extra nights!"

He kicks open the stable door with a booted foot before disappearing out into the slowly lightening streets.

Nod glances quizzically after the dwarf, before coming to himself and swiftly saddling his own horse.

It is just as Nod has finished saddling his horse and is unbolting her stable door that he hears a rather indignant snort from a couple of stalls down.

"Cyralas!" Nod says in surprise as he hastily moves over to unbolt the stallion's own stall, "Marabir is gone I'm afraid. We need to get help from the Vordrens."

Nod has only gone a few more paces when there is another indignant whinny, this time from the stall beside Cyralas'. Aerendir's stallion pops his head out a moment later, with a distinctly unimpressed expression.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"Uh, right. Yes, obviously," Nod murmurs, looking a little flustered as he unbolts the stallion's stall as well before hurrying back to mount his own mare.

"All right you two," he hisses, "Let's go!"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

A rooster crows and the first light of dawn is just beginning to creep over the hills to the far east as Nod reaches the gate to the town and, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his head, walks out onto the muddy road. He curses as his left foot sinks into a particularly deep puddle of muddy water, before mounting his bay mare.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:56, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

As Nod sets off along the road to the east, Marabir and Aerendir's stallions in toe, he glances glumly toward the north.

"Aerendir's going to kill me..."

OOC: End of Chapter V...
This message was last edited by the player at 00:56, Fri 31 Dec 2021.