You first arrived in Ereworn about a week ago coming up through Cornumbria along the coastal trade road and then taking the Kings Road over the river and through the forest the locals of Ereworn called Gallows Wood.  You had heard dark tales of Ereworn growing up but the land itself seemed pleasant if a little wild and the people, though few, seemed friendly though short of stature and not as robust as those further south.

You passed through ruins of an ancient city noting ruins of the Selentine era and then came to the town of Ereworn, partially built upon and within those ruins.

You turned north from there and climbed into the Pagans themselves and soon came to Castle Ereworn a great square block of a keep with one rear tower taller than the others, it was protected by a great ravine across which arched a well-built span...a feat of engineering rare this far north from your knowledge.

The gate was guarded by two men, boys really, who waved you through with barely a glance.  Beyond the gate the entry turned left sharply up a dressed slope and then right at the top through a murder-hall and then into a wide square with a well at its centre and what seemed to be newly laid garden beds bordering all the inner walls.

Nobles and Knights only: On presenting your credentials and invitation you were waved inside and following the young servant within he was directed upstairs entering through great embossed bronze doors, noting as he did the repairs and works going on about the castle.

Others: You are seeking employment and a new start and had heard on the road that Ereworns new king was seeking household members...deciding to chance things you asked to speak to the majordomo and to your great surprise were directed upstairs entering through great embossed bronze doors, noting as you did the repairs and works going on about the castle.

Within the room was mostly empty apart from a simple wooden stool on which sat a man about his own age wearing a simple crown. On two similar stools about a small table laid with bread and cheese sat two other figures; an enormous man dressed in simple dark woolen robes and a great black boarskin with a brutal scar across his brod shaved head, the other a slim younger man with a large winestain birthmark across one side of his face.

Two battered shields mounted on stands stood outside an embossed bronze door leading into the northeast tower. Newly woven tapestries deck the walls, interspaced with the glass filled windows .

The tapestry on the west wall seems far older than the rest.  It  depicts a figure in a white robe, performing some sort of ritual before a huge crystal.

A gigantic stained glass window depicting a sword and a river comprises the east wall.
Beneath the window is a raised plinth. An ugly gouge in the centre of the plinth suggests that something once stood here, but has long since been removed.

The huge man stares at you for a brief moment then seemingly satisfied nods to the man you presume is King Corbin.

Corbin smiles, " And how can I be of assistance to you this day?"

Barlow bowed low and long to the King or Ereworn, " Barlow Greencap at your pleasure. Your Majesty, I heard news on the road that ye were looking for folk to act as yer eyes and ears and I've two of the best of each."

A dazzlingly handsome man in his late twenties/early thirties with shining green eyes and tousled black hair. He is dressed in a pristine cotton tunic and dark woolen trousers, he leaned on a wooden staff fixed on top with a shining silver dirk.

Drummond inclined his head to the King, measuring up the huge man beside the king,

" Drummond Gilrow, Your Majesty.  Former Sheriff of Tilsbrook and Reeve of Barmoran.  I am here to serve as you see fit."


" Though I'm not known for my love of letters..."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:49, Thu 03 Oct 2019.

Mammon swept into the room, her long turquoise gown covered by a sable fur-trimmed travel cloak, her long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders and shaded the side of her face above warm amber eyes. A large sable cat sat across her shoulders, watching the others with interest.


She gave a deep curtsey to the king and his retinue, " Mammon o' Greybridge, Your Majesty."

" I received a..message..to come here and offer my assistance to you in Ereworns ascension, I am learned in law and other more esoteric things."

" I offer my services, for your needs."

Turren bowed, mail coif lowering over shoulder plates that captured coloured spirits off the room's stained glass.

'Sir Turren of Uvedale, Your Majesty,' the accent came polished as the armour. 'My arms and word are at your service.'

Turren's head rose to reveal a strikingly handsome, clean-shaven face. The man was neither tall, short nor slight, but lean and sure-footed - moving with economy afforded to one who spends nights under the stars armed and armoured. Turren wore a deep green tabard over his breastplate, featuring a white falcon. Despite his apparent efforts to keep the garment clean, one couldn't help but notice the weathering, and some faded old rust-red stains on the falcon's open wings.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:49, Thu 03 Oct 2019.

The hulking scarred man in the boarskin looked each of them over in turn he smiled tightly at Barlow and Turren but his face was a dubious frown as he looked over the other two.

He turned towards Corbin and the King looked up at him, then after a moment gave a chuckle.

" Then we shall see, Diarmuid."

The younger robed man with the winestain birthmark, looked them over impassively; flashed Mammon a quizzical look but said nothing.

Corbin chuckled again, " We'll it seems you are acceptable...mostly...to my advisors."

He waved his hand across to the other side of the hall, where there sat a table with a great cask of wine upon it and a selection of breads, cheese and fruits. To some of the groups eyes it was relatively sparse fare but fresh nonetheless.

" Eat, drink...there is another on the path to Castle Ereworn currently we'll see them before we speak further."

"Get to know each other, you may be spending quite some time together."

'Thank you for your generosity, Your Majesty,' Turren bowed again.

He had a care to introduce himself to those others gathered, quick to smile and offer a hand to be shaken or taken where permitted. He also  pointedly stood aside for the others, gesturing to help themselves first to the table of food, eager to play the humble gentleman.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:29, Thu 03 Oct 2019.

Barlow approached Sir Turren with an appraising look, " And how does the day find you, Sir Turren?", he queried as he brushed a little road dirt from Sir Turrens tabard.

Mammon watched Barlows approach with an amused smirk as she nibbled on some fruit feeding some cheese to her cat.

Drummond demolished a loaf of bread and slipped a few apples into his pouch as he watched the room carefully.

Barlow noticed at a glance that Turren was armed with a sword at his belt, a dagger on the other side. A shield embossed with a white falcon and a single well-crafted javelin hung over a shoulder with his pack. A fine quiver with six green-feathered arrows was strapped there also.

'Oh, well enough after Gallow's Wood I suppose,' Turren chuckled.

Reaching into his belt purse he produced two florins and placed them firmly in Barlow's fussing hand. 'I thank you for your trouble, most kind of you.'

He made to speak further, then hesitated before raising a dark brow and appraising Barlow more closely. It was obvious that Barlow's martial adornments were of particular interest all of a sudden.

Compared to Turrens arsenal, Barlows was sparse indeed; a single polished stave crested with a simple dirk-like blade. His clothing was a reinforced quilted doublet in emerald green and a split-backed long travelling coat in dark brown leather trimmed with sable mink.

Barlow smirked a little as Turren pressed the money into his hand but did not refuse it, but rather danced the two coins along his fingers for a moment before spinning them in the air where they seemingly vanished into thin air.

" Yes, Gallows Wood. I came through there with Drummond, I think his musk scared off most of the dangerous beasts."

Mammon watched the two handsome men....interacting....with a half smile and turned towards Drummond.

" A lofty position, Reeve. Is there some scandalous reason why you no longer hold it?"

In reply to Barlow Greencap (msg # 12):

Turren's eyes lit up almost child-like as the coins vanished. He then made to grin at Barlow's comment about the former sheriff and reeve, but quickly flushed, catching himself and glancing in Drummond's direction apologetically.

Turren scooped up a peach off the table and fought to regain composure, taking a bite.



Mammon's words saw poor Turren nearly spit his peach. Clearing his throat and swallowing hard, he focused pointedly on the one-time Reeve.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:44, Fri 04 Oct 2019.

Drummond glowered at both Barlow and Mammon.

" Was more likely your constant prattling that scared off the beasts, Greencap.", he said wryly.

He settled his gaze on Mammon, " Something of the sort, though more in the vein of uncovering a scandal than being involved in one. Ones Lord is often times best not knowing what his daughters are up to, and shooting the messenger was the option taken."

He walked closer to Turren, " You've seen battle, a fair bit I'd wager...though you've been lucky about the face."

" Were ye away in Outremer, or closer to home?"

Drummond's question must have hit a mark - Turren seemed to drift for a moment, then snapped back with a grim smile.

'Outremer,' Turren mused. 'A battle against the sun by day, and against clear nights like frost; the enemy, I must admit, became an afterthought. Feels like a different lifetime now. And here's the irony, my good man: Returning home to take my first true wound in the lists. Unhorsed and knocked out cold for three days.'

He raised a brow and smiled.

'At any rate it's an honour to meet you, sir. I'm sorry to hear of the dishonor done to you. Saviour willing, may all our fortunes improve.'

" Saviour Willing.", Mammon repeated with a curious inflection.

Turren smiled, apparently oblivious to Mammon's subtlety.

'A magnificent beast,' he eyed her cat as his features softened. 'M'lady, you've introduced yourself, to be sure. Yet your faithful companion goes unannounced, lest I missed it. On my passage back to Albion I'll never forget the ship's cat - most valuable crew member, as the rats would attest had any made it back with us. By what name goes this one?'
This message was last edited by the player at 01:52, Sat 05 Oct 2019.

Mammon preened and scratched Otto under the jaw, " His name is Otto.....for the moment...once his name was Nove, but there was an incident...."

As Turren regarded the cat, Otto raised his head and looked Turren over...almost as if the animal was appraising his worth.

Léofwyn had come into Ereworn much the same as the others, though she had lingered at the roadside more than once to inspect a ruin or regard the beauty of nature that seemed to be mostly fresh growth here in Ereworn as if the entire land had recently awoken from a particularly harsh winter.

Walking the bridge spanning the chasm before the castle she was waved through by the young men at the gate and gathered up by a rather breathless older gentleman in livery, he ushered her within into a small corridor.

The older man turned her around and looked her over for a moment taking in her arms and shield, and his face suddenly flushed, " Forgive me! I thought perhaps you were the new chambermaid. Uh...you should probably head upstairs, if you are here to speak with Young Corbin...uh...King Corbin."

" Again, forgive me. I used to run his fathers household back home and this old brain still isn't used to the change in his circumstances."

" Um, Molway Hulm at your service, Madam.  They others went up a short while ago, you should probably hurry."

Léofwyn hurried up the stairs and found herself staring at two huge brazen doors, she was about to test them when the left most door suddenly flew open and a giant emerged, no merely a very large man....dressed all in black and with a hooded mantle formed from the whole skin of a great black boar, he looked down at her his wide shaved and scarred head inclined slightly apparently unsurprised to see her.

He held the door for her for a moment and she slipped within....

Almost immediately within the door two men sat on wooden stools...one slightly more ornate than the other, other stools were scattered about the room.

One of the men looked up, a smile crossing his youngish bearded face, Léofwyn noted there was a rather plain looking crown casually hooked over one of his knees... as he saw her he quickly snatched it up and placed it on his head.

The tall robed man beside him, his face blemished with a large wine-stain birthmark, chuckled slightly.

" Good day, Miss? How may I be of assistance?", queried King Corbin of Ereworn gently.




.................................


As the four of you eat and drink you look across to the doors and see Diarmuid leave and a young red headed woman enter dressed in green.

Léofwyn stepped forward so that she was standing directly in front of the young king and bowed her head.

"Your Majesty. Please forgive my lateness. I am here to answer your call. It is truly an honour to stand before you and offer you my services."

After a moment of pause, she hastily added "My name is Léofwyn, and I hail from the South of Cornumbria."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:56, Sun 06 Oct 2019.

King Corbin smiled, " I accept your service...Miss....?  head across and have something to eat and drink with the others."

" We will speak of Court matters in a short while."

Turren moved back from Otto's curious scrutiny to make way for Léofwyn, allowing an exaggerated space for her to approach the table of food. He couldn't help but keep the cat in the corner of his eye, even as he greeted the newest arrival.

'Welcome M'lady,' Turren inclined his head. 'The peaches are particularly good. Ereworn is apparently more bountiful than outsiders' gossip might have you believe.'
This message was last edited by the player at 12:30, Sun 06 Oct 2019.

"Miss Léofwyn, your Majesty. Léofwyn Erkengar."

Leaf bowed again slightly, before making her way over to the table.



"Thank you, sir. They do look impressive."

"I must admit, however, that the smell of this bread has been haunting me since I first set foot in this castle!" Leaf picked up a roll and began to eat it, before opening conversation again.

"May I ask, where do you hail from... sir...?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:47, Sun 06 Oct 2019.

'Turren of Uvedale - forgive my manners - a small holding in North Albion.'

Mammon tosed her mane of sable hair and closed on the other woman, " And I am Mammon of Greybridge, this is Otto.", she said indicating the cat curled about her shoulders.

" The pretty one is Barlow and the surly one Drummond, your best off avoiding them both. Drummond has terrible hygiene and Barlow is a scamp of the lowest order."

She yawned theatrically, " What skills do you have to offer in Ereworns service, little one?"

Barlow had been approaching but was stymied a little by Mammons character assassination.

" Ah....I prefer to think of myself as a scamp of the highest order, for what higher calling is there than to teach others...though not all enjoy my lessons."

He poked out a sharp pink toungue in Mammons direction.

Drummond glowered at mammon then broke into a semi-surly grin, " Well....some of us work for a living....sweat is natural when one toils."

He rubbed a hand against his badly maintained armour and held it out towards Leaf.

" Drummond Gilrow, Ma'am."

"It's a pleasure." said Leaf, inclining her head towards Sir Turren. She then turned to a dark hair woman walking towards her.



Leaf's eyes moved from Mammon, to Otto, over both the men as they were mentioned, and then back to Mammon.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Leofwyn and have not been to Ereworn before..." She glanced around the room again, this time sizing them up.

"And as far as what skills I have to offer... well, I can say right now that it won't be strength." She laughed a bit to herself. How could she compare to these experienced warriors?

"I would like to think that maybe I'll bring a new perspective? Fresh eyes. I have been trained as an Elementalist, but I enjoy solving puzzles."

Her face grew a bit red, not out of anger, but embarrassment. How could she possibly make her well-practiced skills sound so childish?

Drummond:

Drummond glowered at mammon then broke into a semi-surly grin, " Well....some of us work for a living....sweat is natural when one toils."

He rubbed a hand against his badly maintained armour and held it out towards Leaf.

" Drummond Gilrow, Ma'am."

She took the man's hand and shook it. "Leofwyn." She smiled, and then hesitated before asking, "Forgive me, but are you all acquainted? Have you all journeyed together previously?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:02, Mon 07 Oct 2019.

Drummond chuckled, " Of sorts. I met Barlow on the road before entering Ereworn and Mammon in Ereworn Town before we headed up to the Castle."

Mammon narrowed her eyes, " I see strength."

" An Elementalist? Druidism? How very primal....my studies are a little more esoteric."

" Though now that we are in the north at least our kind can discuss our...interests...in peace and safety."

Barlow munched on some grapes as he watched the interactions with a grin.

" Sir Turren, you mentioned an injury....at a joust was it."

'Barlow, I woke up days after the tourney,' Turren nodded. 'I wasn't permitted to rise for many more days beyond that. I was told my opponent had been disqualified. My horse was taken by a tampered lance, and I'd been thrown back onto my head. I was told I'd won. It... It didn't feel like victory. Sometimes... Well. It was a good horse.'

Turren smiled.

'A good horse.'

"Yes, ma'am."

Leaf smiled, and then reached out to pat Otto.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Otto."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:17, Mon 07 Oct 2019.

The cat watched her hand carefully as it approached, but did not complain as it was petted...though Leaf was a little disconcerted as the animal maintained eye contact with her throughout and then gave a very deliberate wink....

King Corbin called out to the group from across the room, " We have discussed what roles you may fulfil and know that there is a venture I have in mind for some of you, but that can wait until the others return from their mission.

" Sir Turren, Drummond...can I ask that you take up drilling the castle guard.  Sir Uthen and myself have been teaching them the basics but I think new instructors will be useful."

" Lady Mammon there is a library that needs sorting through and arranging and less wholesome texts to be removed."

" Barlow perhaps you would do well assisting Lady Mammon."

" As for Lady Leofwyn....there are a number of areas that would benefit from your attention..do you have a preference."

Turren gave a half bow. 'Drilling is my rock, your majesty. We'll have your troops shining in no time.'
This message was last edited by the player at 01:34, Thu 10 Oct 2019.

Drummond grinned and nodded to Turren, " And while our good knight here polishes them, I'll work a little muck in to get em dirty enough to win..."

Mammon looked at the King, her mind flickering over his words and sifting them through the information she had gathered about the previous ruler and his...proclavities...

" I gladly accept, Your Majesty. And I agree Barlow would be of use with his quick fingers and keen eyes...though I may trouble you for a gag at some point."

Barlow chuckled at Mammons response and bowed to the King and Strawberry, " I will do my utmost to assist Lady Mammon in her....endeavours."

Leofwyn went across the room until she was in front of the Kind.

"If it pleases you, your majesty, I might go and help in the gardens. I saw them on my way in... and, well, I think I can be of assistance."

The next five days are a blur of work and acclimatisation, Castle Ereworn is still, for the most part, undergoing extensive repairs using stocks of timbers piled in the courtyard and reclaimed stone from workings below the castle.

Leofwyn assists with the gardens which line the courtyard, bringing new life to the beds and the verdant growth waxes greatly under her ministrations.

In the centre of the courtyard and across the bridge on the other side of the ravine Drummond and Sir Turren put the men through their paces, the recruits are eager to learn and all seem to have the basics down but the two men lift them to higher levels of competency over  the week.

Mammon and Barlow make great headway sorting through the tomes, scrolls and documents scattered throughout the halls and tower rooms and sorting and compiling them into a library of sorts in the northern portion of the ground level halls.







On the morning of the sixth day a cry goes up from the watchers in the tower that there is a cart on the road with escort....

Leofwyn quite easily climbs up onto the outer wall to get a better look at the newcomers as they arrive.

Turren bids Leofwyn a good day as he passes her by, mail clanking as it throws the light. 'The gardens do you credit, m'lady.'

He eyes the approaching escort and cart, taking careful measure, and makes sure the gate guard are looking lively with a glance.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 09:46, Sun 13 Oct 2019.

In reply to Sir Turren Uvedale (msg # 44):

Leaf smiles down at Turren, "I thank you, Sir!"

She then reaches around to her staff and grabs the large, fresh peach which has just grown from the end.

"Sir Turren, catch!" She says and she tosses it down to him. "I remember your fondness for peaches from when we first met."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:51, Sun 13 Oct 2019.

In reply to Leofwyn (msg # 45):

Turren positively beams at the gesture, eyes alight with wonder. 'Magnificent!' he holds the peach up, then seems to catch himself, and the glee drops to an embarrassed smile. 'After duty, of course! I thank you, m'lady.' The knight does not do away with the peach however, but keeps it treasured in his left hand, as if comforted as he continues to observe the approaching escort and goods.

Leaf can see better than he from her high perch and she calls down a description of the group to him.

Three men ahead with a huge hound, one in maille the others with bows and light armour.  At the cart walk an old man, a woman dressed in furs, a man dressed in travelling clothes, two heavily armoured knights and another man in maille....the cart appears to be heavily loaded with something covered by a tarpaulin.

Mammon hears the call go up of visitors approaching and throws a small chapbook at Barlows form, " Come along lets head to the courtyard, the King may have need of us."

Drummond roused from his sleep having come off of night watch and headed out to the central courtyard to see what was happening....

Sir Turren thanks Leofwyn and moves off. As he passes the closest guards he spares a moment.

'A tough week, this week, men,' Turren clasps the nearest man on the shoulder. 'Not too tough for you though, eh. Just between us, you carried yourselves as admirably as the best I've marched with in the far south. Keep it up, and don't think I've not noticed those of you maintaining your arms and armour on the regular. It shows, and the king'll notice too. Peachy,' he winks, waving his sun-gold treasure overhead, turns on his heel, marches away.

Turren greets Drummond politely on his way. 'Armed Knights and men at arms, a covered cart, possibly returning to King Corbin. I think there was gossip he had such out hunting poachers and the like. I'm going to position myself near the king. Truth to tell, I don't want to make this my business till the king tells me to. What say you, sir?'
This message was last edited by the player at 00:50, Mon 14 Oct 2019.

" Seems good thinking, near enough to be of service not so near as to be a nuisance.", Drummond agreed and peeled off to stand near the entry.

With Lann, Aphail and Deise leading the way across the bridge the wagon climbs the graceful stone arch, the walls are about shoulder height but the view over the edge down into the rocky chasm makes them very glad that Mary is a calm and placid horse.


They come down from the apex towards the iron gates in the castles outer wall....

The gates swing open as you approach, manned by two young men in clean tabbards and quilted armour.

A steep ramp, surrounded by high walls, leads up immediately to your left just inside the gate. It is dressed with a light gravel. A trellis of ivy is set into the east wall just inside the gate.

At the top of the icy ramp you can see a dark alcove, like a crawlspace or tunnel in the stone. Above this opening there is a bas-relief of a scowling, one-eyed Cyclops.

The ramp is about 20m long. There is a wooden door set into the right-hand wall of the enclosed area about 10m up the ramp. You can see a gateway leading off to the north just next to the alcove.

As the companions pull in tighter, Mary pulls the cart up the ramp and turns right through the gateway and along an arched corridor with raised portculli at either end.

The cart clatters into the courtyard of a once-bleak mountain castle. To the north, high towers soar up into the icy night. As Mary comes to rest and the cart settles, you see a number of people have come out to witness you arrival.

Two-storey buildings bound the courtyard on all sides, with towers in the four corners. This area measures some thirty metres square. Low garden beds line the courtyards interior, lush with spring foliage. You can see the low parapet of a well in the centre of the yard.

A broad staircase with an ornate balustrade, four metres wide, leads up to the second floor of the building in the north wall. Two urns have been placed on plinths at the end of the balustrade.

The tower in the northeast corner of the courtyard is five storeys high with a peaked conical roof. Dark apertures are visible high up on the fourth floor.

There are some attic windows set into the conical roof itself. The northwest tower is about half the height of the one in the northeast corner, and has no
windows.

A group of people stand in the courtyard regarding the companions with a mixture of expressions, the dozen or so castle guards scattered about the area, all quite young, have expressions of wonder. The 20 or more servants and craftsmen down tools to watch them with mild interest.

A youngish bearded man in his early thirties dressed in a blue tunic and cloak leans on a barrel near the well and holds a plain gold crown loosely in his right hand, at last minute placing it upon his head.  A younger man in long red robes stood at his side, one side of his face covered by a large winestain birthmark.

Behind these two stood a man whose height dwarfed even Usopis, a broad shaved head over wide shoulders crested with a huge black boar skin, his right hand was covered in a dark maille gauntlet in which was held a leaf headed spear.

A little way from them stood a striking raven haired woman in dark clothing with a large black cat curled about her shoulders, beside her a handsome young man in green.

Approaching from near the entry was a gruff looking man in stripped down plate and maille, and a little nearer stood a pretty red haired girl in simple dress carrying a twisted staff, beside her a friendly looking knight trying unsuccessfully to hide the peach in his fingers.

King Corbin stepped forward half a step, " Beathan! Deise! Sir Uthen! Welcome back, and with your numbers greatly increased! I hope things went well."

The young blemished man beside him stepped forward, " Know, all of you assembled that you stand in the presence of King Corbin of Ereworn, Vanquisher of the Dark."

KIng Corbin for his part shrugged very slightly, and sighed quietly.

A small woman in a dusty and patched hooded warcoat of dark wolf pelts and stained green tunic leans on her birchwood staff with her left hand, the other one wrapped in a bandage, and peers through a ragged fringe of pale red hair at the assembled folk and the castle itself with evident curiosity, wondering at all she sees, but still watchful of the cart despite the wonder.

Along with the birchwood staff, it's tip scorched by recent use as a torch, there is a old invader's style sword hanging at her hip from a broad leather belt of many pouches, a short bow across her shoulder, with it's quiver of arrows hung on the other hip, and a sea raiders throwing axe strapped to her backpack.

A skein of handspun grey wool in progress, a small pine cone as a dropspindle is twisted around her belt, one end still a large hank of unspun fleece tucked into a pouch.

She wears a pair of twisted wire earrings holding two old gold coins from an invader's tomb in them, and a white bone amulet inscribed with a crimson sigil hangs from a red dyed leather thong about her neck.

A pair of emerald green eyes in a half twisted and bite scarred face surveys king and commoner alike with equal regard, and a surprisingly gentle smile softens the expression of grim determination in her gaze as it moves from face to face, lingering a moment on the man birthmarked in red by the king, the red haired woman with a staff of twisted wood in her work roughened hands, and the dark haired woman with an equally sleek cat.

She casts an inquiring look to the pale man near the cart in a warrior's maille but with a scholar's stance after King Corbin steps forward and speaks. At the red marked man's words, she bows from the waist, quite elegantly for a barbarous hillwoman of Glissom, no bended knee, but a unmistakable gesture of respect.

When she rises again, she introduces herself with "I am Herbwife Caith. Glad to meet ye, your majesty."

_{EDITED by player for further detail.}
This message was last edited by the player at 00:50, Tue 15 Oct 2019.

At the front of the leading trio a very small man dressed in dark stained and torn green and grey kneels before the King. Across his chest, a  bandolier of daggers. A bow slung over his shoulder. Dark shoulder length hair pushed back revealing piercing green narrow eyes.

"Your majesty, King Corbin. I am pleased to report that we have had some success at Ceann Caorach. That success was won with sword and mind of Ser Uthen and Beathan. But none of us would be alive today, were it not for the bravery of these companions of the road. Majesty, I present Mistress Caith, Ser Usopi  Venia, Aphail the hunter, Brannon Darrow and Toirneach Lann. The hound is called Gat and is the bravest of all. All hail from the North and have been instrumental in helping rid from your realm some of the evil plaguing your citizens. We have much news to report.

Deise rises as he soeaks and as he  introduces the new companions he points, motioning them forward to present to the King.

OOC: apologies Aphail. I did not realise I left you out.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:46, Mon 14 Oct 2019.

As Deise introduced him, Usopi took a step forward away from Mary and the cart. His seven foot tall frame was covered by plate armor, though the armor had seen some damage in recent days and needed mending. Atop it Usopi wore a pine green tabbard, though it was stained by blood, dirt, and what seemed to be white gravel or sand ground in to it. Around his neck he wore a metal crucifix and a small silver hound on a leather tong.

The brown hair growing along his jaw and on his head was noticeable, but it seemed clear that he had once been clean shaven and had simply gone some time without a razor. However, a week or two without a razor did not allow enough growth to hide his warm smile that filled his gleaming blue eyes. He carried with him the expected gear of a wandering knight, along with a large and sinister looking long sword, a chipped mace, and a shield.

One hand rested gently on the head of the hound Deise mentioned, a wolf hound that came up to Usopi's waist at its shoulders. The beast wagged it's tail at the mention of it's name, and let out a greeting bark as if to confirm its bravery. Gat wore a leather collar inlaid with a knotwork pattern, as well as barding of leather reinforced by a black metal.


Usopi spotted the small exasperation of King Corbin at the introduction of the birth marked man, and so instead of kneeling he simply placed a fist over his heart and bowed to show his respect.

"Usopi Venia your Majesty, Knight of Lakstead, at your service. We heard of the troubles effecting your shepherds and thought to investigate. It was our pleasure to meet your envoys and aid them in the resolution of the troubles there, and our honor to meet a king who truly deserves the position. Along with news, we also carry treasures recovered from the being that was plaguing your citizens." Usopi said as he lifted raised from his small bow.

He looked around the room at the people gathered, an varied bunch. He smiled at the collection of people that seemed to make up Corbin's court.

Aphail has travelled with Deise for a while now, and he listened carefully as all the other members of the fellowship were introduced, except for him?  He grinned, as it was always a compliment for any hunter to be overlooked, unobserved, or forgotten.

The Hunter is slender and lithe,  with long black hair in plaits, and bears a grotesque scar across his right cheek.  He wears simple homespun woollen trews and tunic, with soft calfskin boots and appears to hardly make a sound when walking, even on the gravel. The original colour of his clothes are lost in dirt, dust, dried blood, and other detritus.  He carries a hunting bow and quiver on is back, packed with arrows.  He has an arrow and a dagger made from flint, like the ancient Lughwyd, and wears a sabre-tooth necklace around his neck too.  A wild man of the woods indeed.  He surveys the gathering like a predator, seeking out potential prey and other predators alike.  He is wearing his rose quartz amulet, to help him fend off dangers.

OOC - No worries Deise.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:47, Wed 16 Oct 2019.

In reply to Aphail MacRoach (msg # 57):

Beathan sinks to his knee before the king while Deise talks of the groups' deeds, nodding in agreement. Once Deinse has finished, he rises.

Beathan is dressed plainly in travel-stained clothes. The emerald green cloak is folded back in the warm sun, showing a slightly damaged chain shirt, a faded blue tunic & trews. Broadly built, he stands a little over 6 feet with dark black hair and deep brown eyes.

After Usopi introduces himself, Lann steps forward, cups his hands in a salute and addresses the King.

"Lann pays his respect to the much revered and respected King of Ereworn. It is indeed an honor to stand before you,"he says before bowing.

Tall and lean, Toirneach Lann is pretty quick on his feet and moves around with a very graceful gait which is a result of the many years of practice he had walking on tight ropes and such. He is clad in a scarlet tabbard and on his belt, hangs two swords, which are the spoils of his adventures. A third weapon is hidden away. Despite his ability to sing and converse well with people, his pock marked face which was a result of a childhood illness causes people to shun him.

Brannon makes his bow in turn. "Your majesty, I am Brannon Darrow, Hearthwarden of Brigantia, from the Temple of Flame in Glissom. We have heard much from your subjects to your credit: it is an honour to stand before you."

Brannon is tall and thin, verging on emaciated, with a slightly sickly pallor. His clothes are travel-worn, and show signs of recent patching after a recent battle, but his demeanour and speech is that of a well-educated noble. A medallion depicting a burning log is on a chain about his neck, and his fingers are stained with ink, yet calloused and scarred as from hard labour.

He takes in the room, and the King in particular, with great interest.

Mammon watched the new comers with interest, flicking her hair as she came to Caith with a smile and a lingering glance upon Usopi.

A long sable gown covered with a mink trimmed hooded cloak sitting about her shoulders was a large black furred cat.  She leaned back against the staircase ballustrade.

Barlow stood beside Mammon in his green trimmed tunic appraising the newcomers with a slight smirk.  In his left hand was a green tinged spear wrapped with a green silk ribbon.

Drummond Gilrow nodded as the new folk introduced himself recognising fellow warriors among them, he moved up from the entrance in his scuffed and worn maille and plate, scraggly brown-grey hair hanging over his unshaven face.

Uthen neatened up his surcoat and armour as best he could as they approached the Castle. When they pass through the gates and he sees the King, he approaches and drops to a knee bowing his head, before standing again.

He is a young man in his early twenties, a Knight by his garb - somewhat old fashioned plate armour, a little battered - not so much dented as showing signs it has been dented and repaired in the past. Over it he wears a surcoat quartered green and yellow with a green bee hive device on the yellow quarters. There is a black label at top that those who know heraldry (and care about its formalities) would know indicates he is the eldest child of whoever the arms belong to). He has a sword at his side, and a shield bearing the same devices. There is a large wart on his right cheek.

For the moment, he does not speak, allowing his companions to introduce themselves. The King already knows who he is.

Sir Turren remains in the background, apparently at ease, straight backed in his immaculate heavy armour. He takes the time to give a curt nod to any passing scrutiny. A lower incline of the head to ladies and knights. He's clean shaven, dark of thatch, firm of jaw, and his skin has the look of a man who has spent much time recently outdoors. In his right hand he absently toys with a large, ripe peach. His left rests easily by a hooked thumb on the polished hilt at his belt.

Standing near Sir Turren was Léofwyn, Léaf to her friends...

Léaf is a young woman in her late 20's. She has long red hair, which is braided down her back.

She seems light on her feet and watches the new arrivals with interest.

She has a long, gnarled wooden staff in one hand, and carries little else, wearing simple clothes covered by a knitted, green poncho.

King Corbin smiled broadly at everyone, " Well...lets hold court here then, its a fine afternoon. Pull up a barrel or crate if needs be."

" I am pleased to meet you, Herbwife. A noble calling."

" Excellent news, Deise. I thought we had sent you after wolves or perhaps thieves....but you speak of something darker...."

" Sir Usopi of Laksted, we of Ereworn thank you for your service in our cause."

" Well met, Lann of...Glissom."

When Brannon spoke the King leaned forward, " The Temple of Flame, Hearthwarden..."

Strawberry leant close to his King and whispered to him.

" Of course! Brannon, and do you represent your Temple and Brigantia here today? Two of my close advisors have visited your lovely city last year."

" Ah! Before I forget. Deise, Beathan and Sir Uthen we have had some new members join the Court while you were away. Barlow, Sir Turren, Leaf, Mammon and Drummond have been doing some excellent work here in your abscence."

" Now there was mention of spoils....more importantly were any of the folk in the Grey Hills harmed by this evil or are we simply looking at needing to replace stock?"

Deise is secretly please by the Kings immediate reaction, validating as it does his newfound choice in life.

"King Corbin, the farmers and settlers in the Grey Hills have suffered stoically under the terror of the servants of evil, but we saw no evidence of injury to the people we met with. The herds, as you have suspected, suffered badly and are in need of some replacement."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:38, Wed 16 Oct 2019.

Brannon nods gravely. "I represent the Temple and my Goddess at all times, your Majesty, though I have not been sent as an envoy. Our role is to investigate reports of dark magic upon the border. When we heard the tales of the destruction of cattle we sought to investigate. Having crossed into your Kingdom, it seemed wise to advise you of our presence."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:15, Wed 16 Oct 2019.

Now that the mood is more relaxed, Aphail makes a subtle but conscious move to stand by Brannon.  As he does so, he winks at Caith to do the same.  Although they were potentially all friends together, there were still different factions with different agendas.  He would leave the talking to Brannon, it is what he is best at after all, when representing Clan Cernach.

OOC - Just tallying up, of the people who left Glissom a few weeks back, only Brannon and Lann remain?

Lann appears nonchalant but he is observing the intentions of the new comers and the reactions of the king's court. He stands in a relaxed manner but does not move towards Brannon, thinking that having the party surround him would be too obvious to onlookers.

OOC: I believe so. Griff, Jon, Dann & Chlainn left or died. I think Griff was also a second character?
Of course Kores and Colm left even earlier.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:03, Thu 17 Oct 2019.

Usopi nodded his head to the gathered court as King Corbin introduced them.

"Indeed Majesty, it seems we arrived as the beings decided to seek larger prey. We fended them off from an attack on a homestead. Then we pursued them to their lair, where we faced them down and were victorious, though the thing we assume was the leader escaped in the form of a swarm of black insects. Upon inspection of the lair for information, we found the spoils we carry for you in the wagon." He said as he shifted a barrel to be seated.

King Corbin frowned, " To be honest my family lands where mainly concerned with barley and oak, what would we need to properly compensate...no...to improve the lot of those sheep holders among the Grey Hills."

Strawberry moved a little forward, " Can you speak more on these ' Servants of Evil'."



" Dark Magic on the Border? Cattle Destruction?", he turned towards Diarmuid and Strawberry but both shrugged and shook their heads.



" Ah...and what spoils are these?"

Strawberry looked concerned, " Lair....swarm of insects...what exactly did you face?"

Caith inclines her head and smiles graciously at the king's praise of her profession, but wisely stays mostly silent while those better versed in diplomacy speak.

She locates a keg small enough for her to handle with her dignity intact, hauls it upright, shakes the dust from the skirt of her warcoat out, and sits on it. It is mere coincidence that her seat happens to be near the Hearthwarden's left side.

The herbwife follows the conversation with great interest through...

When Corbin asks about the spoils, she offers politely "Healer Beathan would be the best one able to answer that."

The quiet frustration of her tone at Strawberry's query as is evident she sighs "Nothing good, whatever they were."

_{EDITED by player for clarity and brevity.}
This message was last edited by the player at 08:17, Thu 17 Oct 2019.

Brannon nods, sadly. "I fear that the destruction of the sheep was no natural matter. Not an animal, nor mere thieves. We stayed at the farmstead to see what was attacking the sheep, and encountered four shades, and a fifth figure who seemed to be controlling them. One of the shades we slew - and traced the others to a burial site nearby the next day. There we defeated the other shades - though the fifth figure fled the scene without a trace that we could discern. I do not know if he - or she, or it - was a human necromancer, or another of the dead. The bodies of the improperly buried can sometimes be used in this way, so we laid their remains to rest once more. Hopefully for good this time."

Brannon is clearly getting into his stride. "But this is the sort of problems we have faced in Glissom. The dead walk, and we have had to root out worshippers of Rimfax who threaten the locals and bring plague in their wake. Is this related? I do not know. But the burial site we tracked down was ancient. Why would it begin to destroy the sheep now? Either something ancient was released, or some new actor has raised the ancient dead. Either way, it speaks to recent interference. I might have put this down to the followers of the old Duke crossing our border, but we have witnessed similar signs up in the mountains north of Glissom..." He catches himself. Perhaps this is not the best time for a big speech on the dangers threatening Glissom.  He ends, rather lamely: "Something is afoot. I do not know what it is. I might normally say that some things are best left undisturbed but I do not think we will have that luxury."

As Brannon spoke Strawberry had drawn closer and closer and before he even meant to he found himself face to face with Brannon.

" It cannot be Rimfax or its followers....we paid a dear price to drive that horror and its followers from these lands."

He looked about as if remembering his position suddenly and retreated, " Apologies. And thankyou for your service."

" My name is Cene, most call me Strawberry for obvious reasons."

Sir Turren continues to listen, and any hint of mirth has darkened to a grim furrowed brow.Though he's never seen such evils first hand, he's heard news enough in his travels. He makes a sign of the saviour and reflects quietly as court proceeds.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:17, Thu 17 Oct 2019.

Brannon meets Strawberry's gaze evenly, though he is clearly taken aback by the intensity of the man's gaze. "Well met, Cene. And thank you for this information. Our encounter with Rimfax's followers were on the Glissom side of the border. You may indeed have driven them from Ereworn, but some certainly have escaped into Glissom. We encountered Waidwoe with them... some at least of Darian's Black Riders." He frowns. "But in truth, that was only once, and I have no evidence that most of what we encountered is to do with Rimfax: that is merely my supposition. Either way... something dark is stirring in Glissom, and on the evidence of our trek here, there is still danger on this side of the border."

In reply to Brannon Darrow (msg # 78):
Deise nods as Brannon recounts the news, before clearing his throat and directing comment mostly at Strawberry.

"The four shades we fought all carried an amulet of a wolfshead devouring the sun. We have not before encountered this symbolism."

Aphail is by Brannon's right side, Caith on his left.  He was content to let Brannon do the talking, but cannot hold his tongue any longer.
"They desecrated an ancient shrine to the Goddess Artia, slaughted Artia's Children and despoiled our own younglings." barked Aphail abruptly.  Suddenly he felt Caith's gaze upon him and lowered his voice. "My own clan has seen great suffering... Lord."

Leaf is unsure how to react to the information supplied by the incoming party. In her past training, she learned plenty about the different religions and spirits that existed, but never learned much about the more evil or dark side of it.

She watches the newcomers' body language as they move and talk, but finally rests her eyes on the young king. During the past week, she's noticed his seemingly nonchalant attitude, and is interested to see how he handles a legitimate threat like this.

Caith regards the red marked man with an air of serenity as he approaches, even if her left hand tightens on the staff she grips with it when he is face to face with Brannon.

The look she gives Alphail is one of sorrow, but not with him, but at the dire truth he speaks of Glissom's woes. She nods, and murmurs sadly "Truth spoken."

"Other than the shades, we know not for it hid behind a cloud of darkness. When attacked it dissipated as a swarm of bees seemingly."

Finally, the small man addresses the Kings first question.

"My lord, the animals destroyed by the shades were mainly sheep. I would think that a replacement of what was lost plus an extra ewe in season and ram would improve the lot of the sheep herders, provide for the immediate future and generate lasting goodwill for the crown. In addition, the lives of the herders might be improved seeing regular patrols of the Kings men in the hills. Evil still haunts the hills it seems.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:56, Thu 17 Oct 2019.

King Corbin nodded as Brannon spoke, " Aye, it makes sense. When Albus entered the river the land was cleansed and evil driven from Ereworn....or so it seemed."

Cene marked Brannons words and those Deise had spoken earlier, " Active evil was banished as you say, Your Majesty. Perhaps these...shades were...held in wait? Or in slumber...and their watchers driven off..".



KIng Corbin blanched white and his fingernails dug into the wood of the barrel he sat upon, beside him Strawberry stiffened as if strickened and even the great silent bulk of Diarmuid let out a low rumbling growl.

" I...have...it is the symbol of Fengris, the Wolf that Ends the World.", he took in a great deep breath and his eyes rolled wildly in his head for a moment before Cenes hand found his shoulder and he settled a little.

" When we...retrieved Albus from between the worlds.  When we battled the dream-horror of Rimfax in the barrows of ancient nightmares."

" Fengris was there....in the eternal darkness it prowled taller than the sky, a maw that dwarfed the stars..a wolf...for what else could a mortal mind make of that behemoth unknowable shape...that darkling gargantuan emptiness...", Diarmuid stepped forward and placed a surprisingly gentle finger against Corbins cheek, the King suddenly came back to himself breathing heavily.

" We know it."



King Corbin rose suddenly from his makeshift throne and moved towards Aphail catching Cene by surprise but not Diarmuid who paced beside him.

" I am sorry for the suffering of your people, and for my part in it. But I would not take back the Cleansing of Ereworn, our people have suffered similar horrors for too many generations for me to let it continue."

" But tell me of your Clan, and I will do my best to make recompense."

" Your Majesty....", Cene said carefully from behind him. " Perhaps this is a greater conversation...."




" Well, with the training of Sir Uthen and now Sir Turren and Sir Drummond I believe the men are near ready to begin such patrols.  Perhaps we could double the herds they lost, the land is good now and can support the extra animals...though as I said my folk were more croppers and cutters than shepherds."

Aphail was shocked by the King's reaction, realsing what he had done in addressing the king so informally.
"Clan... Hewell lord."  His eyes shifted from Brannon the Caith

Caith's wary attention is drawn by the word 'wolf' in Deise's conversation, but her eyes widen at Corbin's vision of the past, and the future she fears most. It is an echo of the warning her kin spoke of, and one that is seemingly inescapable.

The growling of the huge boar of a man she has been trying to avoid drawing the gaze at the name is an oddly reassuring sound to her, a feeling that makes little sense, yet persists past the pervading sense of utter doom she feels like an unseen blade at her throat in but a singe word.

"Then the wolf we hunt has a name known to mortal men?" Caith whispers in shock, then smiles fiercely as she adds "That is a secret well worth the knowing of, be it one little spoken of." in a grateful tone.

There is a more hopeful look in her grim face at the reply to Alphail's impassioned plea on behalf of the folk she holds dear, her surprise hiding the shame she feels at not speaking of them, and others besides.

Caith offers a little more lore of her own in return as she explains "Deise speaks truth as it were spoken to him, your majesty. I can nay think of a better way to describe what could be seen of the creature, last that was seen of them."

_{EDITED by the player for clarity and brevity.}
This message was last edited by the player at 05:37, Fri 18 Oct 2019.

" Most intriguing a tale.  The dead returning to trouble the living....and grave goods a plenty."

Mammons eyes glittered and her cat moved up to rest its head atop hers and peer at the wagon...

Drummond came forward and approached Sir Uthen, " So you are the one I have to thank. You did a good job getting the basics drilled into these lads, made my and Sir Turrens job a lot easier."

Cene whispered to King Corbin for a few moments who nodded and gave a grim smile, moving back to the barrel and sinking down.

Cene cleared his throat, " Court is closed for the day, stable hands come forward and care for our Gliss guests animal and porters move the cart over to the armoury entry and begin unloading it."

As the servants came over to begin their tasks, he pointed over to the NE corner of the courtyard where a series of tarpaulins and a stone forge were set up, " If you have needs please take any items to Sammel for repair or to request makings."

" The castle is yours, there are guest quarters in the south-east tower where you will find cots and a wash basin."

" Ladies quarters are in the north-west tower, Ladies Mammon and Leofwyn are already settled there."

" Feel free to speak with myself or Diarmuid if you have any further questions, though the other members of the court should be able to answer most queries for you."

" There will be a simple banquet this evening in the downstairs Western Hall."

He slipped a hand over Corbins shoulder and the King gently shrugged it off and rose, " Welcome, welcome. And My Thanks on behalf of the people of Ereworn. Tonight then."

Corbin turned and walked off alone towards the main entry doors in the northern boundary of the courtyard.

Cene watched him go for a moment then smiled broadly and headed over to speak quietly with Diarmuid.

Barlow sauntered across towards the cart his eyes fixed on Deise, " So.....dead people? I tend to have more trouble with the live ones myself."

Sir Turren lets out a sigh and follows Barlow over to the newcomers, all ears. He considers something, shrugs shoulder plates and begins eating his peach.

Aphail goes over to the workshop to speak with Sammel.  Aphail is hoping to trade silver and services for a Brigandine coat.  A castle such as this should have plenty of resources and availability of equipment?  Aphail his pack down, strips of his ragged jack and gets ready to work.

"Master Sammel?  I am Aphail-o'-the-hood at yer service.  I'm looking for a Brigandine coat, to replace me auld jack.  I can trade the auld leather jack, but its dunnin, I have silver, and I ken arrowsmithing.  Can we come to an understanding?"

When the court  ended and folk broke up to follow orders, Usopi moved toward Cene and Diarmuid, hoping to have a conversation.

Sammel grinned, " Give me two days. It'll be done, leave the jack. I'll reuse what I can."

Deise seeks out Sammel hoping to catch up kn Castle gossip and maybe procure a cross bow.

Good day Sammel, 'tis good to be back, did we miss much. I am looking to trade a bow for a cross bow if ye can help. Some o' de things we faced needed much more power in the  bowstring that my small frame could manage. Can ye help at all? 

OOC: Deise presumes he knows Sammel from the months spent at the castle before leaving on the mission.

Lann casts perception of sorcery and tries to see if there's magic in the place. He will do it subtly

Cene nodded and thanked Usopi, " Excellent work, Sir Venia. Asmulian name, though your accent is Albish?"

Diarmuid gazed at Usopi for a few moments and Usopi felt the hairs go up on the back of his neck before the huge man reached out a meaty hand and clapped it against Usopis upper arm, " Good Man."

Cene looked across at his large companion surprised, " Indeed. Welcome, Sir Venia. Rest, there will be much more talking later."

" Aye, no problem. Now, only one I've got is from the bad days, I've cleaned it up best I can and oiled it but don't get the damn thing wet...smells like wet dog for a day or so after. Works fine though."

As Lann summons his magic he sees the eyebrows of the elegant sable haired woman raise slightly and his spell notes a similar dweomer about her own eyes as she looks everyone over, a dagger at her side and something in her pouch glows softly, the green dressed mans verdant spear also glows slightly .

Ignoring the various signs of his companions belongings he regards Cene, King Corbin and Diarmuid, several of the robed mans fingers glimmer as does a pouch at his side and something about his neck, as King Corbin heads inside Lann notes the sword at his side glimmers slightly and something about his neck also does....it is when Lann turns to regard the hulking figure of Diarmuid that the brutal looking spear in the huge mans mailed grasp shines with an almost blinding light as does the mailed gauntlet he holds it with.

No one else in the courtyard seems to possess anything enchanted.

”I have always assumed one of my ancestors must have come from afar and settled in Albion when he was done wandering. It is a bit strange, but most folk do not recognize it as foreign.” Usopi said with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck.

When his hairs began to raise under the eye of the large warrior Usopi wondered why. Was the man’s strength so palpable that merely being appraised might be so intimidating? Eventually Diarmuid broke the moment of tension with praise, and Usopi grinned. He could feel and feel the strength of the two men, and knowing hints of what the duo had gone through to rid their kingdom of evil made their praise all the more warming to the large knight’s heart.

With Cene’s dismissal Usopi nodded his thanks to the pair of courtiers and made his way to find Sammel. He needed his armor repaired, and he still had the lump of melted metal that had once been a mirror in the war temple.

In reply to GM (msg # 98):

"Thank you Sammel, sure I can smell a bit like that myself. I'll leave the bow and arrows in exchange. Do ye have bolts with it?"

" I've ten, will that do ye?"

Sammel looked across from Deise to Usopi, " Ye've a bit o' mess there....heave it off, I'll have a look at the breast plate and get Mirren started on repairs and upkeep o'the rest."

" If the rest o'yer folk have needs bring it all across, looks to be a busy couple of days at the forge."

Having given what she would call a fair answer to King Corbin, Caith sinks into to the silence of a woman contemplating how to hunt a vastly different kind of wolf. She is withdrawn from the world, even in the court of a king, gold, greed and the bickering of clan and clanless over them dwindle to mere playing pieces upon the great board of the gods.

The predictable outcome, no matter how she tested the strings of of the weave she saw in her mind, seems inevitable, but a name to the beast changes things. Names have power, even over a demonic wolf the size of a mountain...

The all too well known to her prickle of sorcery in the air draws her from the silence of future forebodings and Caith suppresses a sigh as recognizes it's source.

She gives Alphail a lingering stare, as if trying to fix his face in her mind, a familiar marker in a reality that feels like a trap waiting to open beneath her feet.

Caith looks briefly to Brannon as she says softly "A druid woman from well far of Glissom, and a law mistress with a fine sleekness of a cat. I nay ken what the evening will bring, but I will see what the ladies have to say afore then."

And with that, she calmly walks off in the direction of Leofwyn, and Mammon, and the feline whose seemingly amused stare reminds her uncomfortably of her great aunt's raptor guardian of the henhouse's canny gaze.

Caith politely asks of them "Greetings to ye. Might a stranger make a humble request for directions? I've already lost track of where ladies quarters are in this maze of walls..."

Mammons eyes drag across from Lann to Caith as she approaches, " Ladies Quarters. North-west tower, just to the left of where King Corbin has entered."

Her eyes flashed as she took in Caiths dress and demeanour, " Well, well...am I not an Albish Rose between a Gliss Thistle and a wild Honeysuckle..."

" Or perhaps snow between two fires?"

" Little matter, for there is beauty and power in all things."

She stroked her cat under the chin, " This is Otto. I am Mammon o'Greybridge, or simply Mammon to yourself."

" You've an interesting band there, lot of boys to keep in line for one woman."

Uthen nods his acknowlegement of the thanks. "I had good teachers myself. Simply tried to pass on the lessons they taught me as best I could. When you are going to ask men to fight when needed, you need to give them the best chance to do it well so they survive the experience."

He looks down at his armour. "They also taught me to keep my kit in good repair, so by your leave, I am off to find the armourer to enlist his help with the bits that need an expert touch."

" Aye, go get that seen to. Looks like a nasty scrap."

Sammel pointed to Sir Uthens plate and maille as he approached, " Aye, same as your fellows.  Pass it over and we'll get to it, Sir Uthen."

Leofwyn waits until the two women finish their introduction before offering,

"Lady Caith, I would be happy to show you the way to the ladies quarters, if you would like. Do you have any other belongings with you?"

In reply to GM (msg # 102):

"Thanks Sammel, I'll have to settle up when I get settled, but ye can have this  bow, arrows and quiver. The bow is true and in hands of a stronger man would fell both boar or man."

With that Deise turns to Uthen and Usopi at the forge and nods before turning toward the keep. He tries to think of matters mundane, outgoings owed to Mistress Caith and Master Sammel, but the forboding sense of doom is sickening. The small man cannot get the reaction of The King and the Boar from his mind. Was it safer to have kept the amulets to himself? Fengris - is this my future now?
He resolves to speak with Strawberry, Beathon and the Hearthfather. Then there was the red haired lass, was that a Cornumbrian accent. He is sure it was. Past catching up and a wolfs demonic maw looming in the future.
Panic rising like bile . . . meditate, need to breath.

Deise walks toward the tower to find calm. "I'll catch ye later lads, something I need to do. Usopi, view from tower is breathtaking."
With that he is gone to find some inner peace.

OOC: corrections.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:48, Sun 20 Oct 2019.

Usopi nodded graciously at the order to remove his armor, and he did so, taking off the heavy pieces of plate and setting them down gently for the craftsmen to see too.

After all the metal was turned over Usopi reached in to his pack and withdrew the lump of minerals that had once been the war temple mirror. ”I am also looking to sell this. I do not know its worth, as it once was a magical mirror of silver and hold, dedicated to a forgotten war god. We recovered it, but it was then melted by the acidic venom of a multi-headed snake woman. If it is worthless then I will hold on to it, but I thought perhaps the precious metals would still be of interest.” he said to the man, extending the mass toward him.

He turned to Deise and Uthen as the blacksmith examined the goods, ”Once finished here I think I would like to see the view from the tallest tower in the castle. I recently found myself looking out from a great height, and the view was magnificent. I am curious though if such an experience might have been influenced by its proximity to certain death.”

" No need for that, your Household.", Sammel said happily. " I'll take the bow though, will always come in handy."

Sammel listened to Usopi talk with an odd expression, " Magical mirror...A forgotten war god....acidic venom....multi-headed snake woman...look, theres no need to over-egg the pudding...Sir Venia.", he said with a chuckle.

" Its good quality metal, I could do an inlay in your plate...do you have a coat of arms or house sigil or the like?"

Caith looks embarrassed to admit "I was nay paying attention to the king when he left..."



Caith smiles in amusement, such gentle combat a welcome change from claws in the gut, and gives the rose her due in a honeyed reply of "Perhaps, but I could nay give a certain answer so a thorny question."



"Nay puddles here..." Caith murmurs in apparent innocence, seemingly checking the courtyard's ground for signs of snow melt.



Caith nods in total agreement at beauty and power being a ubiquitous quality.

"I am Caith, of the road of late. Pleased to meet ye, Mammon..." the wolfskin clad woman replies in formal tone, and then addresses the cat in equally grave courtesy "I am likewise pleased to meet ye, Otto."

She offers the feline of the partnership a left hand to inspect before attempting to stroke them, aware the smell of both wolfskins and Gat, and several sheepdogs besides  likely still cling to her.



Caith agrees cheerfully as she answers "Aye, and sometimes have been, but they tend to be less of a handful after they've been seen what I can do with a handful of herbs and bandages after battle."



Caith looks mildly startled at being called a lady, but essays the manner of one as she offers "I would greatly appreciate that, and I have nay baggage other than myself, thank ye." in reply, then asks both ladies "If ye nay mind me asking, what brings such flowers of far off places to Ereworn?"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:54, Sun 20 Oct 2019.

Usopi chuckled with the man, "I suppose it does sound fantastical."

He continued smiling at the humor of it as the man explained he could do an inlay of his armor. Usopi demurred a bit at the thought of adorning his armor with designs, thinking it perhaps slightly prideful. Then the armorer asked about a sigil, and the large knight's thoughts became focused entirely on describing a coat of arms.

"That would... be... a Wolf Hound, like Gat here... seated, but with its forelegs raised in front of it." Usopi managed to describe after a moment's thought.

OOC - that would be Sejant Erect.

So the full coat of arms would be... A Silver Wolf Hound Sejant Erect on a Green Field.

This but with a wolf hound instead of a lion.

This message was last edited by the player at 09:15, Sun 20 Oct 2019.

"I would gladly accompany you on such a climb. As long as you don't fall off, I always think a nice view is worth the effort."

He starts stripping off his armour, and listening to the further conversation between Usopi and Sammel. When he hears Usopi describe the wolf hound and its stance, he will pipe up with the correct terminology (as mentioned):

"A wolf hound erect sejant."

(Uthen had heraldry drummed into him as a boy by an Uncle - all the rules, and the correct terminology).

He looks at Gat. "A fine beast worthy of serving as a model for any knight."

Aphail, who has stayed with Sammel at the workshop, is preparing to smith some arrows in part payment for his Brigandine.  When Sir Uspoi and Sir Uthen arrive, they begin to doff their harness.  This is impossible for them to do on their own, so Aphail lends a hand to each knight in turn with leather straps, buckles, plates, maille and gambesons.  When each knight has doffed their harness, he will help to lay out the harness under the tarp, in good order.  This will avoid any plates being lost or mixed up, and help Sammel to be more efficient in his work.

Otto accepts Caiths hand but there is a strange brittleness about his mannerisms that reminds Caith not so much of a feline....but more a disapproving husband.

" Money, Position....a certain desire to put parts of ones life behind oneself. I speak only for myself of course, I know not why Leofwyn has come here. In truth I have not enquired, a habit of keeping oneself to oneself that has stood me in good stead in more southern climes."

In reply to Sir Uthen of Sadley (msg # 116):

Sammel nodded to Sir Uthen and Sir Venia, " I'll get on that as soon as possible."

Caith regards the feline with an apologetic look as she mutters "Nay thought ye'd nay want the scent of dog near ye." in Otto's direction.

She gives Mammon a sideways glance and a serenely truthful reply of "In other words, nay go digging up the past?"

Her apology is to both Mammon and Leofwyn as she offers "If I have offended either of ye by asking foolish questions, then I will nay ask them of ye again."

Caith adds in a slightly less formal tone "Except for the one concerning directions, Lady Leofwyn, as I nay ken the paths of this place as swiftly as the forest trails."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:23, Mon 21 Oct 2019.

Brannon nods. "There is certainly interesting company here. I would be interested to know what you learn. For myself, it seems there is more to this Corbin than the fall of Darian, and I would know more of this Fengris if he is what we face..."

He makes his way over to Cene, and waits til he has finished speaking with Usopi. "Master Cene, I thank you for your welcome. It seems like there is much history here. I'd like to here more of your battles with the followers of Rimfax, and this Fengris. I fear that we may be about to face the same battle on our side of the border, and I would know all I can. If you have the time to speak - or if you have a library...?"

He trails off a little, wondering what sort of library the Mad Duke might have kept, and whether is still there. Or if he even wishes to expose himself to such things.

Usopi beamed and clapped his hands together at the idea of the symbol on his armor. Perhaps he would have it added to his solid green tabbard at some point in the future.

"My thanks Sammel." The large knight says before turning to Uthen, "Now, how do we find the tallest tower?"

Cene looked at Brannon carefully, " Aye, there is a library...of sorts, most of it was Darians.  Lady Mammon and Barlow have been sorting through it and removing the less healthy volumes."

" What would you like to know of Rimfax and its servants? I will...try..to speak of Fengris...it is....dangerous to recall to much of it...it is the Wolf that swallows the World...to think of it is to allow its memory within and it is...oh..so...hungry...."

Sammel looked a little worried, " Uh....thats the Kings Tower....".

" Well, who among us afraid to get their hands dirty with a little digging?", Mammon grinned.

" Offense? Who could take offense to such a silken tongue....even a rough looking hunter must appreciate its...many uses."

Mammon turned away quickly and buried her face in Ottos fur, " Well, time to bathe and nap and change for the feast I think.", she purred as she swept off towards the north face of the courtyard.

Usopi turned back to Sammel, ”Ah,”, he said, ”Then... perhaps the second tallest tower then?” he asked Sammel.

"No offense at all, Lady Caith" said Leofwyn, raising her arm in a respectful, directional call to start walking in a particular direction.

As she walked, only one step ahead of Caith, she spoke.

"To answer your earlier question, I hail from the southernmost parts of Cornumbria, but I am on my way north on a sort of... well I guess you could call it a pilgrimage."

"On the way, I thought I might answer the King's call to arms, and help in any way that I can."

She smiled, absentmindedly getting more familiar with Caith the more she walked.

"I do want to go home eventually... but there's just so much to be done!"

They made a few turns and then started up some stone steps.

"What brings you before the King?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:10, Mon 21 Oct 2019.

"Thank you - if you are willing, I will speak with Barlow about the library. As for Rimfax and Fengris, I would know as much as is safe. I daresay we may need to know more than is safe in due course, but I understand the dangers of trafficking in such matters." Brannon replies, cautiously. "I suppose my first concern is Rimfax - was it destroyed? How deep-rooted were its worshippers? In Glissom, are we merely dealing with the straggling remnants of its followers? Or is something more sinister afoot?" He pauses. "Is it Rimfax we face? Fengris? Or some other dark power? Truth be known, I fear that some sort of rot has already taken hold in Glissom City, though perhaps that is just my paranoia..."

"Done a bit of badger work, aye..." Caith concurs, even as she tucks her bandaged hand out of sight in a wolfskin sleeve.



Caith grimly mutters "Even if it be one woven of thistle's silk..." as she fights to keep the scarlet creeping up her face to the cheekbones away.



"Aye..." Caith says, now uncomfortably aware that she looks and smell more like a wolf than a woman at the moment, and a distinctly grubby wolf at that.



"Ye be seeking old paths and holy places then?" Caith asks, as she untangles the meaning of the word 'pilgrimage' from her few fragments of lore on the matter.



"Always is, and so few hands to do it all." Caith agrees with a wry smile in return, even as the word 'home' stabs through her heart like an unknowing assassin's blade.



Caith chooses her words carefully as she offers "A matter of dead livestock. Turned out to be more complicated than hunting a wolf with a new found taste for mutton. The rest is now King's task to sort out what be needful to do after the livestock killers were dealt with."

In reply to Brannon Darrow (msg # 128):

Hearing Brannon talk about visiting the library, Lann is interested in studying mo aout the horse skull symbol and other emblems he encountered recently as well as runic scripts.

He turns to the Hearthwarden,"Perhaps I may join you in studying at the library."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:16, Tue 22 Oct 2019.

Sammel pointed to the north-west, " Follow the three ladies, they're staying in that tower."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:30, Tue 22 Oct 2019.

Cene smiled kindly, " Destroyed? No, for we are merely men and Rimfax was a Darkling God in ancient times."

" There were many in Ereworn who made offerings to Rimfax, to be honest most of them did so in order to try and avoid its attentions to have children not born with malformed limbs or organs outside their bodies or to have crops that were at least slightly edible.  How much good it did I do not know.  But I think in terms of actual worshippers, they were few and limited to fell priests and the like.  Rimfax was not the only Demon worshipped here in the dark times, the folk of Sulphur Bay worshipped a great Sea Wyrm and sacrificed sailors to it until we put a stop to them."

" I would say you face a few desperate stragglers, Rimfax can be opposed...it is Fengris harbinger, in the ancient tales of Ereworn. Fengris you cannot fight...it is Oblivion given form, immense unto the heavens themselves and just as uncaring of mortal concerns."

" There are those that say that the immense maggots that fall free of Fengris unfathomable hide cloak themselves in comely forms and gather the souls of men...but it is a tale I do not know the truth of."

" Glissom has its own ancient horrors, does it not?"



Cene looked Lann over as he approached, " Lann, it is yes?"

" Welcome to Castle Ereworn."

Drummond gave the newcomers one more look over and headed back to the gate to speak with the men.

"Yes exactly. Rumour speaks of druidic convents and of those who might show me... well, what I am seeking." She finished quite lamely.


Leofwyn briefly eyed the wolf pelts on Caith's armour, wondering if it would be worth asking about it... but decided against it. If there was a significant story associated with it, she would tell it in due time.

They finally arrived and Leaf opened the door but did not go inside.

"Here are your quarters, Lady Caith. I hope you find everything to your satisfaction."

"If there is nothing else you need, I might head back down to work on the gardens."

Caith looks pensive a moment, then answers "I reckon ye'd be better off asking Hearthwarden Brannon about druidic matters, for I am nay as well versed in them as he is, and I am learning much from traveling with him. However, I will tell ye what I know of it, but only if if asked smaller questions, as it is too large a subject to devour whole in one sitting."



Caith peers cautiously around the doorway, not quite sure what to expect, nor wanting to look foolish for not knowing a lack that a lady would.

She replies "Thank ye, but ye've nay need for concern. As long as I can see the moon at night, I'm happy to sleep anywhere out of the rain."

Her face lights up in a smile that is no less genuine for all it is half twisted by the scars down the left side of her face at the mention of gardens.

Caith asks "If ye nay mind me dogging your heels a while longer, then I would greatly like to see these gardens ye speak of. A few fresh herbs, and a bucket of water would make me less likely to offend Otto's refined nostrils."

"Thank you," responds Leaf, "I'll be sure to speak to Sir. Brannon when the opportunity arises." She then adds,

"And when I have the right smaller question I'll be sure to seek your council, also."



Leaf laughed, her smile growing to match Caith's.

"I donna mind at all! I'll wait just here for you to drop your things and... Well instead of a bucket in the garden, I do believe there's a basin and washcloth just inside if you wanted to refresh yourself before heading down?"

She waited a moment and, not wanting to cause offence, added "But either option works well for me!"

In reply to Leofwyn (msg # 134):



"Excuse me all, I'm going to get my armour fixed."

Beathan will deposit the sack of gold he's carrying with the rest in the armoury, before heading off to Sammel at the forge.


OOC: Sorry, been sick.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:36, Tue 22 Oct 2019.

As the others made to leave the forge and head for the north-west tower Beathan arrived and shucked off his maille, handing it to Sammel for repair.

Sammel was beginning to look a little stressed at the workload...

Barlow slapped Sir Turren on the arm, " Well? What shall we? To the library with those two gentlemen or a bit of climbing with that lot near the forge?"

" Or did you have something else in mind?"

Usopi thanked Sammel for the directions, and then with a nod to his companions set off toward the tower.

Brannon relaxes at the mentuion of "a few desoerate stragglers", but tenses again at the mention of Fengris. "That is troubling news. If Rimfax is Fengris' harbinger, then... well, I fear what may follow. Did you..." He pauses, realising that this may be a delicate topic. "Did you face the dread wolf yourselves?"



"More than enough." Brannon sighs. "And something is stirring. In the mountains to the North, in the border to the West. No doubt to the East and South, if I looked hard enough. I just don't know what." He realises that he has clenched his fists in frustration, and hurriedly opens them.



Brannon looks relieved as Lann approaches, and there is the chance to change the subject. "Aye, a trip to the library would be wise, and your company would be welcome."

"Then I will answer as best as I am can, not being a scholarly Hearthwarden myself. Though I am fairly certain that hearing himself called Sir Brannon would both confuse and delight him." Caith answers in grave seriousness, then cheerfully amused tone.



Caith says very softly as she tries to explain her hesitation "It is a chamber both clean and ordered, aye, but mark my words, the moment I step in there? It will untidy! I nay understand it's pattern of beauty yet, and I nay wish to upset those who make it so."

She shrugs and concludes "Well buckets and garden earth are nay less complicated, but they are of a pattern I already understand, and tolerate a less formal sort of beauty, even a wild thistle springing up unexpected."

In reply to Barlow Greencap (msg # 139):

'Friend Barlow, I think it's time I ventured to the library. If my blade is going to be drawn on shades or other devils at some point in the future, I'd quite like to know as much as I can beforehand. By the Saviour this peach is good.'

Diarmuid rumbled like a threatening storm overhead at Brannons question, and Cene leant forward and seized Brannons hands in his own.

Cene stared Brannon in the eye, " One no more 'faces' Fengris than one 'faces' the ocean as they drown miles from shore....if you had seen what we have seen then you would understand....I hope you never do."

Cene released him suddenly, " My apologies, we'll speak further tonight."



As Brannon and Lann walked towards the doors in the north wall they were caught up by Sir Turren Uvedale.  The trio continued inside then turned into the western hall where books were stacked on some newly constructed shelves, some were still stacked in piles near the shelves and a strongbox sat beside them.

" Bah! Very well, I'm off to bother Drummond then.", Barlow said loping off towards the gate.

"Oh!" Exclaimed Leofwyn, slightly embarrased, "Then what should I call him?"



"Mmmm", agreed Leofwyn as they started walking again, "indeed that is something I, too, love about nature. It can be harsh and strong and... rough! But it can also be soft, and beautiful and quiet. It can be as unforgiving as it is flexible and welcoming - if you only but treat it with the respect it deserves."

In reply to GM (msg # 132):

To Cene, Lann salutes and says," At your service milord! I have often heard of the castle and am honored to be able to set foot in such a place. I hope to learn from you and I am certain there is much you can teach me," Lann replies politely.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:11, Wed 23 Oct 2019.

"Hearthwarden Brannon if I'm being respectful..." Caith offers as she thinks harder on the matter "...Or Hearthwarden Darrow, if it's official business. Never heard of a Sir Hearthwarden, but that may be my ignorance speaking rather than truth."



Caith replies in canny reckoning "Aye, t'will kill ye for impertinence, yet show ye a paradise with equal cheerfulness, and it be the one place that I nay feel out of place. So 'Lady' is a title I have nay claim to in truth. Herbwife is all that need be said of me, for herbs are all I am mistress of."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:55, Tue 22 Oct 2019.

'If it wouldn't be too much bother, I'd be happy to assist as I might in your research. I'm all for lugging tomes and manuscripts if you're doing the reading - the true heavy lifting.' Sir Turren falls in beside Brannon and Lann, easing his pace, smile grim. 'Or more to the point, I've found before most battles, knowing the enemy you'd least like to know is as useful as any suit of armour or honed blade. Whatever it is you find - fell as it might be - would be to our advantage in the future, er... I'm sorry I've quite forgotten your names, friends. I'm terrible with names, forgive me.'

Caith and Leofwyn made their way back outside passing Brannon, Lann and Sir Turren heading down the west hall towards the makeshift library.

As they exited the hall they met up with Beathan, Usopi, Sir Uthen and Aphail who were coming their way up the stairs to head inside.

Heading onwards towards the garden beds they were overflowing with leafy green vegetables and a fair selection of culinary herbs.  Caith was impressed with the lush growth achieved....

Brannon offers his hand to Sir Turren "I am Brannon Darrow, Hearthwarden of the Temple of Flame in Glissom. Your company in the library would be welcome, Sir Turren. Given the reputation of the old Duke, I half fear what we might discover - though it sounds like the King is doing his best to cleanse the more dangerous tomes. It is Fengris, and Rimfax that interest me, though - I need to know if they are behind the troubles in Glissom." He gives a sad chuckle. "I doubt that will be handily written in a book, but knowing the details of their cults may help in the diagnosis. Still, one trafficks with such beings in any way only with peril. It is it not wise to draw their attention..."

Before Aphail go up with the others, he acknowledges Sammel's workload.
"Nay bother aboot the harness's. I'll be here to help yer wit' de labourin' and such" *winks*
He slap Sammel on the back and retires to their quarters.

Brannons search revealed a few select passages, Sir Turren and Lann were less successful but still found some clues.


' The Rim Fax, or Ridge Mane....an ancient spirit said to fortell the end of all things."

' The Bone Mares breath is thought to wilt crops and sicken livestock, and it was considered responsible for epidemics and drought.'

' A burnt offering to Rimfax by the Black Priests resulted in a wild rampage of plague, the deaths of cattle and the destruction of crops. The dark spirit was said to have infected horses at Hallowhall with the deadly disease known as mortasheen, to demonstrate its fury and exact its revenge against the holders for honouring Elvaron; the infection subsequently spread to all the other settlements.  The horror was also blamed for prolonged periods of abnormally low rainfall, leading to water shortages and poor harvests.'

' There are creatures from the far planes that take the form of beautiful women dressed in gowns of white samite and adorned with costly silver and bejewelled circlets. Outside their outer forms they are, in truth, maggots dropped from the scabarous hide of the grim demon Fengris who stalks the planes beyond, slavering for the souls of men and awaiting the end of all things.'


OOC:


19:02, Today: GM rolled 12 using 2d10.  Secrets Stealth.

Caith smiles in greeting to Alphail, but the sight of the library party brings a curiously wary quality to her expression, for all that she nods politely to Hearthwarden Brannon in passing.



"Well sown, and well tended." Caith says in fair praise, after the quietness of the place has sunk into her for a few minutes. A few sprigs of rosemary, lavender and lemon balm are plucked with great care not to damage the plants in the process.

Armed with a bucked of well water, she sits down barefoot on a step out of the way, and leaves her wolfskin robe folded over her pack after ferreting out a rough but now sweet scented lump of soap.

As she sits and washes her arms and head free from the sweat and dust of travel, it becomes apparent that she is a great deal paler in complexion without the layers of grime, and a smaller and skinnier woman than her warcoat make her appear.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:27, Fri 25 Oct 2019.

Turren smiles and returns the handshake, 'Brannon, well met. Brannon,' he repeated quietly to himself. 'Very good then.'



Turren listens intently to any and all information revealed by his new acquaintances. He nods in what can only be a parody of extreme concentration. It becomes apparent during the time in the library that Turren, though lucid enough and quick of wit, has a terrible struggle committing details to memory. Eventually after a drawn out circular conversation, he seems satisfied, albeit slightly exhausted, and perhaps even a little embarrassed.

Usopi gave a amicable smile to the ladies as he passed, and then made his way up the tower, headed for the top. Aside from checking the view and bathing he had little he needed done before dinner, so he moved with a casual slowness.

Usopi and the others made their way up the tower stairs past the ladies quarters and to the platform at the top, two young looking guards stood up there casually chatting but they soon pulled themselves into a more attentive pose as the group reached the top.

Looking out over the mountains from the tower was breathtaking...if rather stark...the Castle was not on the tallest of the peaks by far but it was the tallest of those nearby by quite a bit.  The view over the mountains was mostly gray stone and snow atop the tallest peaks but there were patches of green and alpine meadows that were dotted among the jutting stone.

OOC: When ready feel free to move across to The Feast.

Usopi grinned at the view, taking in the beauty of even such a stark climate, the specks of green were small confirmations of flourishing life. However, he preferred the view from atop the cliff. The sight from up there, with his heart pounding from the near fall, overlooking all the different terrains of the low lands had been truly breathtaking.

Still though, it had never really occurred to Usopi how enthralling the view could be from such great heights, and he found himself wondering what other towers and mountains might allow him to gaze upon such expansive swaths of Gatanadese’s creation.

After a few minutes of quite contemplation he spoke, ”I think I have fallen in love with heights.” he said with a chuckle, ”Now perhaps for a bath? If it would not be so much of a bother to get the water up here I would take it here if I could. Thankfully warm water is refreshing be it at ground level or upon the tallest peak.”

Brannon pores over the books with a scholar's fascination, reading and re-reading sections aloud, and making furious notes. "These horrors at Hallowhall sound familiar." He observes. "This is much what we faced with Aphail's Clan in Glissom." He reads further. "Bone Mare, eh? Though I do not like this 'end of all things'..."

He sighs. "I think we have gleaned all we can. Thank you for your assistance, gentlemen. I think it is time we prepared ourselves for the feast..."

In reply to Brannon Darrow (msg # 160):

'Aye Brannon,' Turren tidied up where necessary, laughing eyes gone sombre. 'I thank you for being patient with me - your temperament does you credit, sir, and good turns I DO remember. I'll take my bath and prayers, and see you both again at the feast. Until then.'

Sir Turren gives a gentle nod, then rounds in his full plate and strides away as if in only tunic and hose.

A cleaner and calmer Caith looks to Leofwyn at work in the garden, and says "Ye have the green lady's thumb, to keep a garden like this so well on a high and steeply sloped bed of stone. Nay underestimate the gift in your hands. Keeps many more folk alive and well than mine do, and I thank ye for putting it to good use."

She shakes the dust off her wolfskin coat and combs out the worst of the tangles in it, and the same from her own bird's nest of red hair, hesitating a moment before shrugging and tying it back in a pony tail held in a plaited twist of flowering sage stem.

The velvet softness of sage leaves and the vivid blue of its flowers make little difference to the scars, but there is less tension in her face now, less despair in her stance, and that is a kind of beauty in itself.

On a whim she adds a twist of the weather wise Scarlet Primrose to her hair adornment, as blue, however vivid goes oddly with a red feasting tunic without it.

Caith suggests as she leaves, now more confident that she can navigate back to the room that so intimidated her before "If ye wish to speak with Hearthwarden Brannon before feast, ye'll most likely find him where ever the history books and scrolls of lore are to be found. They draw him to them as this garden's bounty does a bee."

Before the Feast, Aphail spends time cleaning and repairing of his equipment.  This includes himself too.  Givent he special occassion, he decides to try a bath in a half barrel of hot water! Caith had given him some herbs to rub on his body which she said would 'to clense the skin'.  Slowly, Aphail got all the dust, dirty, dried blood and detritus off his body.

Aphail easily procures a clean tabard and hose from the castle stores
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:19, Sat 26 Oct 2019.

Leofwyn looked up and smiled "It is something that brings me great joy. But I don't yet know all the names and uses of many of the things that grow under my care."


Leaofwyn laughed quietly at the analogy and thanked Caith for the tip. She stopped pulling the weeds, and stood up, wiping the sweat from her forehead.. "I think I had better clean up before dinner tonight, though. I might be able to catch him at the feast."

She farewelled Caith, before gathering up her things and heading upstairs, after her.

Caith looks pensive for a moment, then offers in serious tone "I can gladly tell ye the names I know them by, though they may be different to the ones ye'd learn from sage folk back home, and I am forever learning new uses even for the ones I know of myself. Growing them is harder than knowing them, and I am seldom in one place long enough to tend what I plant."



The smaller woman nods, and replies "Ye be welcome, and aye, most likely ye will. Fare ye well 'til then." as she heads off up the stairs, intent on finding her way.