The companions gathered around the cart and the old horse, Mary; Gliss, Cornumbrian and Albish alike.

Beathan made his apologies, stating his aim to establish a school of healing within the castle along with the expertise of his parents.

King Corbin, Cene and Diarmuid along with the majority of the staff came out to wish them well on their journey.

...........

Around midday the companions descended into the Vale of Shadows and into the town of Ereworn, hard by a river of the same name.

Behind you to the north as far as the eye can see, scattered woods roll away over the aptly named Grey Hills and beyond them the Pagan Mountains with Castle Ereworn nestled within.

The town is a rather ramshackle affair, with a large number of newer buildings, some rather dishevelled older buildings and scattered ruined stone walls.

At one time it was a sprawling city, with its outlying suburbs and farms extending to the north almost as far as the foot of the Pagans.

Ruined remnants of the ancient Selentine city, from randomly strewn hunks of worked stone to the occasional foundations or roofless cottage, can be seen throughout the forest.

The green leaves of spring are covering the trees as your party enter the town of Ereworn, in the Vale of Shadows.

To the south you can see a river meandering from some distant, wood-covered hills. The margins of the forest come right up to the boundaries of the town. Farmers stand in freshly planted fields and hairy, stocky cattle graze on the hill and many of the doors to the huts in the village are decorated with wreaths of holly and ivy.

You notice the few inhabitants who are outside wave as you approach, the central street is  deserted apart from a few farmers sharing a yarn or two .

You approach the only open tavern, where a freshly painted sign swings on oiled hinges. You read the name of the familiar inn: ‘The Horned Satyr’.

The place seems to be open with trailing woodbine hanging over a wooden trellis that will shade summertime drinkers, polished stools sit in a backyard where a well fed dog yawns at you as you pass.

Usopi pulled Mary up in front of the inn.....

Usopi tied Mary to a post and moved to enter the tavern. Relatively clean shaven and with newly inlayed armor, Usopi felt bright as the new dawn. He entered with a broad grin across his face.

"Gond, we have returned with Garfas' horse and cart." he called as he entered.

Gond emerged in his rather portly glory, " Well done, and you've gained some folks beside...nay, exchanged perhaps...", he said, counting heads.

Aphail marched along in his new wealth.  Recycled Brigandine armour, which is heavier and more cumbersome than his old Leather Jack, but offers more protection. Also he carried the spoils of adventuring, 100 Gold Crowns.  He had no use for coin really.  He had his Quarrybolt, Bow, Flint Dagger and Armour which was all he needed to function.  He wondered how much a log cabin in the woods would cost to build, as he was no carpenter.

Brannon takes great interest in every Selentine Ruin that he sees - pausing to mark its location on a map, and take sketches, ignoring the frustatrations of his companions. He looks longingly at them, as if tempted to go poking around - but he suspects such a diversion would not be popular. He makes a mental - and literal - note to return and record these in greater detail.

Sir Turren decides to seat himself a moment indoors whilst Usopi settles accounts concerning the cart. Turren eases his pack by his knee with his shield against it.He keeps a casual eye strolling whilst he sits, not expecting trouble but not willing to get lax.

Caith wishes Beathan well in his family's plan, and is cheerful is she reminds Cene "Ye have much of what I know of healer's lore in your hands. Use it well."

She thanks King Corbin for his hospitality, and is happy in the knowledge that he will see to it that the parcel of gifts for Kell's family reaches them safely.

The hedgewitch gives Diarmuid a long look, then says quietly "I am grateful for the boar's wisdom, and I thank ye for it." in farewell.

----------

Caith is unusually quiet during the trip back to the town of Ereworn, deep in thought, but still patiently points out some useful plants by the wayside, having gathered some new botanical lore from the castle's library, while the Hearthwarden gathers a different sort of knowledge, fragments of history's lore from the ruins.

She gathers her pack from the cart and feeds Mary a handful of dried apple offered from a flat hand in thanks, before turning to Alphail and asking "Ye fancy an ale and a bite to eat, or we nay staying long?"

In reply to Caith Cernach (msg # 7):

Deise has been quiet since the frank exchange of views at the castle. In his head he is pondering what Aphail meant. At Caith's suggestion he turns to the witch,
"'Tis a wise woman Caith that knows what a man is thinking. There's a dark path ahead if ye have the right of it. Lets break bread, sup cider and laugh l. We dont know when another chance will present itself."

He looks at Aphail, "Well Aphail, what you drinking, I'm buying."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:14, Tue 26 Nov 2019.

Gond placed three large pitchers of scrumpy down before Deise, Aphail and Caith.

Caith nods in reply to Deise, and gratefully accepts the scrumpy with a crooked grin as she says "Now that's a sight for sore eyes, and a dry throat. Thank ye."

She sips rather than sculls the headcracker, wise to the kick of an apple in long ferment, but seems well pleased with the taste regardless.

"Hunk of cheese and a loaf would go well with that..." Caith says to Gond, and proffers a silver coin as she adds "...And if ye've a skerrick of bacon to go with it? That'd be welcome as well."

She offers a handful of fresh picked green spring onions and wild lettuce leave to the tavernkeep to sweeten the deal.

OOC: I assume either Caith grabbed her own cup out of her pack, or there are beakers/mugs/cups from the tavern also involved here, as she is well mannered enough not to drink directly from the pitcher...
This message was last edited by the player at 00:32, Thu 28 Nov 2019.

" Bread, Cheese....got some cold roast mutton from last night. Will that do?", Gond smiled.

He reached into his pocket and pushed a note across to Caith, " Could ye see that Clothilda gets this, please."

"It will serve admirably in place of bacon..." Caith replies wryly "...As I'm sure any hog would agree." and lays down the coin in more pragmatic agreement.



"Aye, that I can do." she says cheerfully, and tucks the note safe in her beltpouch as she adds "She were looking well when I saw her a while back, I'm glad to say."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:28, Thu 28 Nov 2019.

Aphail smiled warmly at Deise, nodding in agreement.  He opened his mouth the voice his choice when Gond arrived.  He closed his mouth and smiled broadly.

Usopi grinned at the production of food and drink, a fine way to end a trek and prepare for another. He waited till his companions were served and then quietly spoke to Gond, ”Is Garfas here? If not I will take it to his residence assuming you provide me with directions. I would lead Mary safely to his hands before I sit and forget myself in the comfort of your hospitality.” he said with a smile.

Gond smiled, " He's in the south at his sons holding, leave her out front I'll take care of her."

Turren asks any of his companions without one, if they'd like a drink and meal. After they reply, he orders as required.

"That is generous of you, Sir Turren." Brannon thanks him. "I will take the ale and a meal, if I may. I will repay the favour when we next have the chance."

In reply to Sir Turren Uvedale (msg # 16):

"Thank you, Sir Turren." Says Leaf, taking a seat with the others. "I will have the same as what you are having."

Food and drink was had and the companions continued to get to know each other and socialise.

As the food and drink were finished the decision needed to be made to carry on and camp on the road or rest here and depart early the next morn.

Aphail doesn't mind sleeping in front of a warm fire again, on dry beddin for a florin.

'Outdoors or in, we must rest at some point,' Turren muses as he slides coin over for the meals and drink. 'Here seems sensible to me whilst we have walls available.'

He shrugs shoulder plates and looks to his companions.

In reply to Sir Turren Uvedale (msg # 21):
"Yeah Sir Turren, here'll be good. Nice cider and a warm place to rest. I'm all for taking refuge where we can. If Brannon is right we're heading to a storm. Lets rest here.

Brannon nods, in agreement. "A good thought. We should make the most of these opportunities while we can."

The companions rose early the next morning, it was three and a bit days to Hallowhall on foot and they had less than a week if Brannon was going to make it back in time for the Spring Festival.

The trade road out the west side of Ereworn Town branched in two one heading northeast to Hallowhall the other southeast to a place called Cellowaen or Callorn....the sign was very weathered.

The road curved gently northwest skirting the borders of the Grey Hills as it did so before brushing past the westernmost ridgeline of the Pagans.

Night closed in and they made camp near the last stones of the Pagans, watches were set and though strange distant howls were heard from the north that set all the 'Gliss' folk on edge....

The night passed peacefully and the next morning the companions set out leaving the Pagans behind and following the trade road as it passed through heathland and skirted large patches of ancient forest as it pushed toward Hallowhall.

Before midday the companions noted something lying on the road ahead, it was a horse and it was quite dead......

OOC:

Reactions Please.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:02, Sun 01 Dec 2019.

In reply to Brannon Darrow (msg # 23):

The morning after, Deise with quite a head from supping a skinful of cider makes for Gond.
My good man, how much do I owe ye for the drink and hospitality. A flagon of cider for the road would not go amiss either."

" 2 silver will cover it, another for the flagon.", said Gond with a smile.

In reply to GM (msg # 26):
" A bargain. Hope to see you again Gond, we must escort our Northern guests to the borders before we return. You run a fine establishment."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:21, Sun 01 Dec 2019.

"Much obliged Gond." Aphail leaves 2 Florin on the bar.

Usopi placed 2 florins on the counter with a smile before heading out for their journey.

—————————————

Seeing the horse in the road, Usopi moved forward hesitantly, eyes casting about and shield at the ready. First they would have to determine how the animal died, checking for any obvious wounds on the corpse.

Caith shrugs, hopeful at the thought of a roof over her head for another night, but looks to Brannon as she eats, still following the conversation about the table.

At the Hearthwarden's agreement, she relaxes visibly, and smiles gratefully in Alphail's direction as she finishes her meal. Caith drinks lightly, though happily   appreciating the cider's taste, as she compliments Gond on it's quality and makes polite conversation on various matters as she waits patiently to greet the moon at midnight.


In the morning, she pays her share of the tavernkeep's bill without complaint or argument. The hedgewitch seems cheerful enough on the road, if quiet but speaking of the useful wayside plants to be found along it.

------

The howling in the darkness draws a long and wary look into the night from Caith, not so much fear as grim recognition. She says little, other than "Could be wolves, but may nay be..." as she piles more kindling on the campfire with a stern expression on her face.

-------

The equine corpse on the road the next morning is not a welcome sight to Caith, and she stops, looks to Brannon and says cautiously "That nay looks to be a good sign to me. Wait a moment..." as she is intent on looking around the animal's body carefully before she investigates it further.

"Nay touch it!" she says urgently to Usopi "Nay afore we know what slew yon horse anyway."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:04, Sun 01 Dec 2019.

Aphail had his bow in hand, and quickly nocks an arrow.  He signals Deise to move around to the left and Aphail moves off the road and around to the right.

11:04, Today: Aphail MacRoach rolled 10 using 1d20.  Stealth -3 = 18.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:41, Sun 01 Dec 2019.

As Aphail slips quietly off the road, Sir Turren moves forward with Usopi. He eases his own shield up, following just to Usopi's left, covering that horizon and the road ahead. In Sir Turren's right hand he poises his javelin, eyes scanning the countryside, not the dead horse, as the knights move forward.

OOC - will remove total florins for my lodging and any meals drinks, just let me know the amount.

In reply to Aphail MacRoach (msg # 31):

Deise heads left as stealthily as he can, mirroring Aphails movement to the right.
Cross bow is knocked and ready, actively looking and listening in all directions.

Leofwyn hurries to Caith's side, ready to help if and when she can.

"Poor horse", she whispers quietly to herself.

Brannon nods uneasily at Caith's observation. "Go carefully. We will cover you..."

He readies an arrow in his bow, trailling his eyes across the surrounding area for signs of danger.

Caith nods in agreement with Brannon's words, and says very quietly to Leofwyn "Pity must wait on need here. There are many ways a horse could come to grief, and some of them nay affect only horses."

"Nay worry, just putting my thinking cap on..." the hedgewitch adds in reassurance as she murmurs in an unknown tongue, and a glimmering emerald light becomes visible at the edges of her hood near her brow.

The wolf skull's teeth cast strange shadows across her face as she stares intently at the horse on the ground, looking for any sign of life or a cause of death.

OOC: Caith casts THIRD EYE to boost her INT and PSY to 16, and SENSE AURA for 6 MP. Is this horse really a horse, and are they really dead? If so, what did they die of, and how long have they been dead? If not, then are they treatable with the herblore and healing magic Caith knows of? And she's checking to see if they happen to be some sort of horrible beastie lying in wait...
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Tue 03 Dec 2019.

Usopi nodded in agreement with Caith. Having faced plague creatures and the like, he knew the danger of disease and sickness. Hopefully the steed had simply been killed by a wild beast, in which case the cause of death would likely be obvious without getting too close to the horse. The other alternative was an ambush of some kind, but he expected Gat would be able to smell any strangers before the large knight would be able to see them.

Deise and Aphail went wide on opposite sides as Caith and Leofwyn moved up to the horse flanked by Sir Turren and Sir Usopi.

Brannon covered them with his bow and Sir Uthen scanned the road behind with practiced eyes.

As Caith and Leofwyn approached they saw it was a pale grey mare which was still breathing shallowly from a deep stab wound through its right side the blood bubbling out was bright red.

As Aphail and Deise drew level with the four at the horse an arrow plunged into the ground near Aphails feet. Quickly scanning the nearby woods Aphail could make out vague forms in the shadows beneath the trees...

"Nay dead yet, by the look of her..." Caith says quietly as she moves towards the mare's head, whispering "Nay fret, Mari Lwyd. Fix that mess for ye in a moment..." then murmurs the charm best fit for the task of stanching the blood and closing the wound.

OOC: Caith will cast GREATER HEALING for 7Health/3MP on Mari Lwyd ('Grey Mare').

She says softly in a worried tone as the gash closes under the arc of her spread out fingers "Nay a beast of the woods did that. Sword's point, I'd reckon, and a damn big one too."


_{EDITED for additional information.}
This message was last edited by the player at 11:27, Tue 03 Dec 2019.

When Usopi saw the horse was still alive and Caith stepped forward to heal the creature, He pushed forward a bit more, his back to Caith and Leofwyn. He was relieved that the horse wasn't an infected trap by worshipers of rimfax.

Sir Turren moves until everyone stops at the horse, he continues to prioritise guarding their left flank, shield readied with javelin in hand. He won't stray more than a couple of steps from Caith and Leofwyn at this stage. Not while they're out in the open.

In reply to GM (msg # 38):

Deises keen eyesight sees the arrow drive into the ground near Aphail on the opposite slope, Deise immediately begins scanning in the opposite direction in the hope of preventing the party being outflanked. Seeking the cover of trees he seeks potential targets.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:15, Wed 04 Dec 2019.

As soon as the arrow hits the ground, Aphail's eyes dart along the assumed trajectory of the arrow.  Aphail is so keen a hunter he is prepared to be shot at again in order to see the enemy.  He remains still and silent and scans the vista.

14:23, Today: Aphail MacRoach rolled 12 using 1d20.  PER+5= 17

Leofwyn stands and steps towards Sir Turren, eager to convey the information she just heard whispered from Caith.

"I do not know if you heard just now, but Caith believes that this damage was done, not by an animal or a curse, but by sword."

"And since this mare is not yet dead, I believe there could be danger a lot closer than we anticipated."

She let her gaze wander around, staying close to the safety of Sir Turren's shield.

In reply to Leofwyn (msg # 44):

Turren nods his thanks, still watching outward.

As Caiths healing energies began flowing into the horse the wound closed but then the animal started panting and convulsing unexpectedly.

Usopi, Leofwyn and Turren turned to see what was happening.

..........

As Aphail scanned the woods he found it hard to make out the shapes he had seen earlier, but as he scanned he made out two men dressed in maille and plate, one of them flicked his hand towards Aphail and another arrow flew out towards him thudding into the ground beside the other one.

..........

As Deise approached the woods on his side of the road he began to make out dark shapes under the trees.  An arrow thudded into the dirt at his feet.

........

Brannon and Uthen couldn't make out much from their position, though there didn't seem any obvious danger.

Caith rocks back on her heels to avoid being slammed in the chest by a suddenly lunging equine head and bites down on the sharp retort on her lips as she sidesteps and stands up, intent on catching Mari by the mane.

"Hey now, enough of that!" the hedgewitch says softly to the panicked grey mare, but in a tone stern enough to to build the rest of a boat onto.

"What's bothering ye, lass? Nay one will harm ye now..." she says quietly as she looks over Mari again, afraid she's missed some vital clue to her patient's unstable condition.

'Patient needs some room,' Sir Turren is grim as he eases backward a few yards the way they came, so as to keep the beast in view and well before him, not at his exposed flank as it was. As Turren backs up, he gives Leofwyn an incline of the head - as if giving her full permission to use him as a human shield if she wants to back up with him. But the look is in no way commanding, more he is concerned.

OOC: Deise is considering the range between where he croches and the shapes he can now make out. He will keep moving in erratic directions to make him more difficult to hit.

Deise takes aim preparing to send a bolt toward the shapes should  he be in at least medium range.
He speaks calmly but loudly to his comrades by the horse.
"Take cover, we are attacked."

Uthen had moved to guard the rear, but at the call of 'Attack' turns around in a complete circle looking for any sign of danger. If he doesn't see anything, he will move towards the fallen horse.

Brannon looks wildly in the direction of Deise's cry, scanning to see if there is anyone to fire upon, while slowly backing towards the trees in the opposite direction.

Usopi initially looked to the horse in case anyone looked to be under threat from the farrier's craft, but when Deise cried out he spun back toward Hallowhall. He brought his shield and mace up before him and glared toward the north east.

"Show yourselves and fight with honor!" he called at the unseen attackers. If they were secreted away in the foliage or kit for ranged combat Usopi would be in trouble. Better then to attempt to bring them in to the open where he might not be at such a disadvantage.

Aphail lowers his bow, shouting across to everyone. "We are NOT attacked, the ambush is nay for us! Twas merely a warning shot! PARLEY, Sir Usopi. PARLEY!"

Sir Turren, shakes his head dubiously, looks over to Usopi. 'Parley tends to work best on even ground before the opposition, and makes bargaining all the better when things go sour. Perhaps we should all muster to friend Aphail, and see what he sees.'

Turren looks again to the horse, trying not to think of a bad joust in another lifetime.

As Caith remained with the mare those with her heard the horse scream suddenly, something presses up briefly against the struggling horse's belly from the inside.

A limb, terminating in a hoof-like shape, then another, then a mouth, set with a predator's canine teeth taut against the skin.

Mari groans piteously, again convulsing in pain, hooves lashing out at the air beside her.

...........

At the shouts of ' Parley', groups of men stepped out from either side of the trees. A dozen or so in total with two men in plate and maille on either side and four in padded armour armed with bows accompanying.

" Parley? Nay, give back what was stolen and we might not kill ye."

..........

As those gathered about the horse took in the new developments around them suddenly a bloodstained gelatinous mass slithers from the horse's flanks onto the ground, thrashing about wildly as it lands.

Deise retains the cross bow on target while attemlting to seem casual.

"Stolen? What was stolen?"

OOC - is this about the treasure perhaps? Are the men wearing any distinctive markings; tabards, shields or suchlike?

It seems only fair that Deises crossbow is aimed at one of the armoured men as the four bowmen are all aiming at him.

The 'knight' with curling red hair and a facial scar nods across the way to the men facing Aphail some 100m away, " A spear, Rhongomyniad the Striker, in Sir Grellens family since the days of Vallandar.", he points across the way to a tall older man as he says 'Sir Grellen'."

OOC: One of the men, the oldest near Aphail, is wearing a plain green tabbard which is in a very bad state of repair.  Looking closer he can see that much or their armour is in a bad state of repair and their clothing is dirt smeared as if they had been living rough for quite some time.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:35, Wed 04 Dec 2019.

In reply to GM (msg # 57):

OOC - we don't have a spear do we?
Deise will keep talking attempting to keep the bowmen and knights engaged.

"Now, now men. You can see with your own eyes that I carry no spear and neither does my companion in the woods, nor the ladies. Why I'm too small to carry a spear. Now what say you, that you put your bows down an' we can talk over cider like. Ya'see I've not got the strength to hold this trigger forever like. Might be, if I get nervous that this bolt flies off uncontrollable like. Who knows where it might end up. Could take someones eye out as my old nan would say." Staring at the closest Knight.

Has the horse given birth prematurely or is this going to end up like a scene from Aliens?

Caith looks from Mari's side with a horrified expression, then to the thrashing bundle lying on the ground, jams the willow bark hastily grabbed from her belt pouch into the horse's mouth and says "I'm nay sure just who ye've been consorting with, but we'll see soon enough, nay fret..."

Utterly ignoring the parley, Caith moves to the bloody shambles tearing the earth up in it's frenzy to escape, and looks carefully at the shape of it before reaching a sharp thumbnail to the tautest part of the mass she can see, to cut the caul open.

OOC: If it's the second option, Deise, then Caith's already at ground zero with a flamethrower DRAGONSBREATH ready to Ripley...
This message was last edited by the player at 00:00, Thu 05 Dec 2019.

Usopi made a snap decision about what the more pressing portion of the encounter was most dangerous. Deise seemed capable of speaking to the men, and as far as he knew none of them possessed a spear, so it was likely that the encounter would not devolve in to combat. What was pressing was the slithering gelatinous form containing a creature with predatory jaws. He had never witnessed a horse give birth, so perhaps it was normal, but instinctually he felt something was wrong with it.


Then Usopi turned away from the men on the road and stepped up beside Caith, mace at the ready should the new born animal prove itself a threat of some kind.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:04, Thu 05 Dec 2019.

Turren remains behind Caith and the horse, but now he's focused not on the men in the woods but over Caith's shoulder.

'Speak the word, m'lady and I'll cast Falchorus straight over yon shoulder. Is she in labour or goblin-touched? And if you are uncertain I say she is goblin-touched, be done before you're undone.'

Caith replies steadily "I see nay sign of sorcery on Mari or her offspring, nor bedevilment by fey, and nay earthly blight upon her but that of blade."

She adds in pensive tone "Those fangs are a puzzle, aye, but I'd nay drown a puppy at birth for having a horse's teeth either."

OOC: Unless anyone else objects, Caith holds her sleeve across the lower half of her face, and cuts the caul open with her thumbnail to let Mari's foal(?) breathe.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:46, Thu 05 Dec 2019.

At the sound of the voices, Brannon lowers his bow, but does not put it away yet. He is content to let Deise do the talking, rather than add another voice to the confusion.

A tangle of long legs erupted along the line where Caiths nail ran and a slick form tumbled onto the road way before almost immediately lifting its self onto long wobbly legs .  The dark coloured foal looked around on a neck that seemed to have trouble holding the head upright.

Long canine teeth hung down either side of its jaw somewhat incongruishly.

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


The red-headed man chuckled at Deises words, " I'd be more worried about the four shafts heading your way personally."

He looked across the way and waved his hand horizontally across his chest, " But we'll take a drink for the moment."

Diese saw across the way the archers lowered their weapons even as the ones near him did the same.

"That looks to be a horse to me..." Caith says calmly, and looks back to Mari "Though I nay envy ye nursing that mouthful!" as she ponders the practical difficulties involved.

The hedgewitch cajoles the grey mare to her feet, and adds "I'll keep an eye on these two. Nay certain Dant Hir* kens suckling without biting yet." as she pulls a much depleted sack of oats from her backpack, and a polished bronze bowl.

She glances over at the men up the road and asks in a whisper "So what's with that lot then? Trouble by the dozen or simply fellow travelers?"







*_{Translation: 'Long Tooth'}

In reply to GM (msg # 64):

"Well now lads, isnt it a fine choice ye made. I'm going to lower this bow and reach around to get me flagon. No silly stuff now eh. I could do with a drink and ye look like ye could. Tough times hit ye lads. No stranger to dat, a lot of it goin' on.

Deise lowers the x-bow and reaches for his flagon in his pack. When done he takes a swig and then extends the flagon tcirst to the nearest Knight

Usopi remained silent and observant. The strangers were Deise’s, and the horse was Caiths, and until such time as either called for aid he would say nothing.

Brannon watches carefully as Deise takes his drink. Things are moving in the right direction: he decides against sticking his oar in. He keeps his bow lowered, but does not stash it.

In reply to Caith Cernach (msg # 65):

'Lady Cernach,' Turren says as he drags his eyes from the creatures to his companion. 'You are truly a wonder.'

He bows slightly, gives the beasts a final grim glare, then marches over to the alcohol. 'I'm going to need some of that, friend Deise,' he calls.

Sir Turren speaks no more as he closes the distance, content to stand silently near Deise, and give a neutral nod to the strangers.

At seeing Deise talk with the archers, and the birth of the.. "foal", Leofwyn comes out from behind Sir Turren's shield and takes out her waterskin, moving slowly towards the mare.

As long as it has calmed down, Leofwyn is going to attempt to give it a drink, and perhaps an apple from her bag. She is hesitant and ready to listen to Caith if she has a better understanding of the situation.

The mare takes the water from Leofwyn and is not shy about nosing the apple either, she appears in no real hurry to see to the foal though as if unsure about it.

" Sir Robert of Eggdorn.", the red headed knight said by way of introduction Deise recognising the name as a town in Albion near the Cornumbrian border.

" Your an interesting looking group, some knights among you, some bow men much like ourselves.  Are you escorting the young lady and her governess?", he said squinting a little in Caith and Leofwyns direction.

" I'm still of a mood to take you lot for all you have....but with a closer look that may not go well for all my boys despite us having the numbers and you with two women to protect."

" My commander across the way is seeking a family heirloom as I said, a spear long and wicked with a greenish cast to it.  It was stolen from his family home a few weeks back."

"You are a long way from home Sir Robert of Eggdorn, a long way and in foreign lands  you trespass. If this new King found that then, why you'd be in a pretty pickle I reckon. This green spear must be worth the risk.  Good job for you that there are no Kings sheriffs this far North. I'm happy to share my cider with fellow weary travellers on the road, but I have no truth to share about no green spear, cause I've seen naught. Why do you think we have it?"

OOC - Does Drummond have a spear with some green on it?
Do these men look like they have been living rough for a few weeks or longer?

Deise is doing his best to appear casual, but his hand is on the bow trigger and he has a flash pellet concealed between the fingers of his left hand. He will simply watch for a treat, sudden movements or a cooling in the temperature of the Knights.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:43, Fri 06 Dec 2019.

Aphail lowers his bow and starts back towards Caith, intrigued by the sudden birthing of this horse.  He places the mundane arrow back in his quiver and draws the Quarrybolt, nocking it on the bow.

Caith rolls her eyes like a startled horse at the mention of Cernach, even as she smiles nervously at the compliment. She replies in an urgent hiss "For the love of what'ere ye hold dear, Sir Turren, nay speak that name aloud unless ye be in dire need!"

The hedgewitch looks to Leofwyn in approval as she offers "Yon 'poor horse' needs feeding up, aye, but mind yer fingers. She's been run ragged, stabbed and foaled a wonder in short order, so I doubt her temper's at it's best..."

Caith looks back and forth betwixt mare and foal, as she concludes in a concerned tone "...Even with her own kin. Never tried to milk a horse afore. May have to to feed Dant Hir proper like."

She puts a handful of oats down on the ground near the young one, another handful near the mare, and places the bronze bowl underneath Mari's hindquarters.

Caith turns to the others and asks "Sir Uspoi? Do ye have that rope handy? I nay fancy chasing Mari through a thicket if she's feeling flighty. Need a rein on her to milk her, and a rein on Dant as well."

She shakes a small leather sack from her pack, shakes the dust of herb gathering out of it and adds "Get some oat and milk mash into both of them and we'll see if that helps take the edge off Dant's hunger afore seeing if they can suckle right."

Her fingers are already plaiting wool from her girdle into a harness to attach to the leather sack for a nosebag as she speaks. The swift glance she gives Alphail is a knowing one, an acceptance of the need for caution, but also the need for compassion, even in a wild hunter of the deep forest.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:55, Sat 07 Dec 2019.

'Well met. Sir Turren of Uvedale,' Turren says. 'You must forgive me, I'm slow of wit without my evening drink.'

Turren pretends to take a pull on the flagon. Grimaces and nods. 'Sir Robert, was it? I'm trying to fathom how the trail of spear thieves has delivered your expert woodsmen out here on a foreign highway, shooting arrows willy-nilly at passing mercenaries? The thieves' tracks must be deep and sure indeed. IS your quarry just a group of thieves with a stolen heirloom, sir? Or are you a little looser on the mark out here on yon lonely trail? I ask because I wish to help a fellow countryman - Albish yes? - in whatever capacity the saviour deems appropriate. Tell us of this theft, sir, and of the trail you've followed thus-far, and in return, I do swear, I shall do my best to see justice restored.'

Turren steps close and presses the flagon back to Sir Robert, eyes locked on his, just a little unblinking to be quite jovial.

'Men like you and I care not for numbers, odds, nor archers, sir. Men like us have waded through numbers red as all hells filth without flinching. And why would we fear death when salvation awaits at the end? The saviour will choose when we die, sir, not the odds. Instead of thinking about  taking, or the women on the road, or how many archers it might take to stop you and I before irreparable damage is done, let's you and Deise and I all remain close as friends, and talk of how we might help you get back what you truly seek, the spear.'
This message was last edited by the player at 02:21, Sat 07 Dec 2019.

Upon request Usopi nodded and made to retrieve the rope from his things. Once withdrawn he handed it over to Caith so she might prepare the horses.

" Sir Turren.", said the shave headed man next to Sir Robert.

" Aye, well. Our commander is after the spear, the rest of us are after whatever we can get."

He squinted as he looked down at the road, " Is that the commanders horse? I thought it was dead?"

" So neither of you two have seen a green cast spear?", he held his hand out for the flask.

Both animals start eating, though the mare seems more interested in Leofwyns apple.

As Caith watches the newborn eat she notes something odd about its shoulders, the muscles over its shoulders and chest are overdeveloped and it seems as if another layer of muscles entirely sits over the top of the rib cage near the spine...

In reply to GM (msg # 78):

"As I told you already, no. Ain't seen no fancy green spear. How long you men been on the road?"

Deise felt the mans eyes bore into him but after a few moments he sighed, " Well then, guess you ain't..."

" Four months."



OOC:

22:07, Today: GM, on behalf of Deise, rolled 9 using 2d10.  Perception 10 vs Stealth 22. Insight.

In reply to GM (msg # 81):

"4 months. Tough times, tough times all over in some places I hear. Been there friend, been there. Now I want to put this bow down Sir Robert. You have 4 men with bows still in their hands and that makes a little man like me nervous. You're a clever man I reckon. Sized us up you have, an you've got the right of it. We're trouble for you. Those lasses with your horse are no ladies. Thats what danger looks like lad. Real danger. The six of us and that beast of a dog, we serve those witches. I've seen 'em do things that ain't natural. Put the bows away and we can talk. We've got some food and happy to share. Look like those men could do with a bite.

OOC: Deise is running short of patience. He is looking for an excuse not to pull the x-bow trigger. While speaking with Robert he will try to appear calm but will keep a glance at each of the mens hands. Any sudden move and the knight with the flagon gets it
This message was last edited by the player at 13:50, Sat 07 Dec 2019.

"Thank ye." Caith says softly in a grateful tone, and finishes knotting together the nosebag with the coil over her shoulder.



Caith looks perplexed for a moment, then asks Alphail quietly "Foal looks to be horse, but 'tis an odd one, besides the teeth. Someone stabbed the mare that foaled them as if to kill both. Are yon troop of woodlost warriors strange as well?"

She knots a halter from one end of the rope, and looks to Leofwyn as she asks "Can ye keep her eating a moment?"

OOC: Caith's milked goats. A horse is a bit different. Halter on Mari first.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:23, Sat 07 Dec 2019.

Sir Turren readjusts his shield now the flagon's gone. He's waiting intently to hear how they respond to Deise's question.

Leofwyn nods and tends to the mare, humming quietly under her breath. She pulls another apple out of her bag and feeds it to her, stroking the distressed horse's neck softly.

The two knights goggle at Deise and the archers shift uncomfortably, " Witches? Are ye in thrall to them?", sputtered Sir Robert.

" I've faced witches before, out of Ibrahim our patrol was sprung upon by crazed men and a woman near on seven foot tall with a blue cast to her skin, she called the winds and sand to her aid and we lost a dozen men that day."

" Nay, we'll not break bread with ye, we'll leave ye in peace as you seem to have no knowledge of what we seek and it'd be too damn hard to put all of ye down if what ye say is true."

" We'll withdraw. Ye can have the horse yer witch has raised from the dead, we took it from a farmstead a while south a few days ago...."

He signalled to the group opposite and they began to withdraw into the woods slowly...
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:32, Sun 08 Dec 2019.

The horses eyes rolled alarmingly when Caith took up her position but to be fair she'd been through a fair bit in the last twenty minutes or so and a weird pair of hands on her teats was the least of it.

The foal wobbled over and propped its head on Caiths shoulder as she went to work.

Gat padded up the slope and began making large circles between Caith and Leofwyn and Deise and Turren....

When the men are gone and everyone is nearer, Turren looks carefully around. Without letting his voice stray from the path:

'What may have happened had we been fewer, pilgrims or an innocent family on the road to serve the new king? Those men are robber knights at best.They plainly suggested what they'd do were we less formidable, and that only one was searching for a stolen weapon. The rest admitted they'd take what they wish. My conscience tells me they aught not to be left roaming these parts if there is to be real change. Deise's clever words have gained us the initiative. What say you all?'



GM Edit:

As the others are 50-ish metres away it'd be a hefty shout, so I'll rule that only Deise has heard this for now.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:31, Sun 08 Dec 2019.

With the horses docile enough that Usopi did not feel worried to leave them unwatched, he turned away and moved toward Turren, Deise, and the stranger knights.

”Hail friends, glad to see the appearance of an attack earlier was simply a misunderstanding. It always makes me sorrowful to encounter lowly bandits. To have the strength of will to face danger and to use it for petty self interest.” the large knight shook his head, but then smiled broadly, ”It is good to know that there are men of solid moral fiber on the roads of Ereworn.”

In reply to Sir Turren Uvedale (msg # 88):

"Your motivation does you proud Sir Turren. It is heartening to know that some think only of the welfare of others. Those men are desparate men, but not evil. No I think they are not evil. I know what its like to be desperate, but I have also known evil. Our mission now is to search for evil and falsehood in Glissom. We might meet many misguided souls along the way, I ask your wisdom, do we Shepard them  all? I dont know, brother, I dont know."

Once the knights and their men had retreated into the woods and moved away the group came together back at the roadside and Sirs Turren and Usopi repeated their observations.

Caith finds herself humming along with Leofwyn as she gets to grips with the task at hand, and guides a squirt of milk to Dant's mouth over her shoulder, like a barn cat's breakfast.

She listens to the conversation regarding the troop down the road as she milks, keeping her rapidly rising temper in check lest she frighten the horses.

"Gladly would I chase them down, aye, and with great pleasure in the hunting, but we have a task to do and this is nay it..." she offers then smiles as she says to Deise "...But if ye wish to warn others who watch over Ereworn? That I can do."

Her expression is wry as she concludes "If nothing else, they should know my handwriting by now, and that's better than any signature or official seal."

OOC: All that humming has given me an idea, and bees are said to be the messengers of the gods in Glissom's lore.

In reply to Caith Cernach (msg # 92):

'A warning would put my mind well at ease,' Turren nods. 'And perhaps tonight we should consider a few extra precautions in case they double round. That Sir Romet, or Robin or whatever it was. Knaves all.'
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 12:21, Sun 08 Dec 2019.

After a few days travelling west they began to pass through some small flocks of sheep on the roadside being watched over by young boys, as they crested a rise they saw down to the coast a small collection of buildings around a coastal hill atop of which stood a square manorhouse surrounded by an earthwork ditch and mound.

Coming through the gates of the town they could see the buildings were all reinforced with boards over windows and sharpened poles about the eaves but the people...almost all under 20...had their doors open and were chatting freely and in a friendly manner in the streets.

A small market offered cheeses, preserved meats, leather goods and some vegetables as they moved past.  People greeted them and called out to some of the Gliss folk by name. As they approached the manor house, through the earthworks, two men in simple but clean tunics and hose under shining but older styled hauberks stepped out to block the way.

The men were older than most of the folk they had seen and they're faces bore traces of pox and other scars, one was missing fingers on his right hand.

" Oh! Its you lot. Up you go."

As they came to the manor, old scars marked the outside of the building and they saw marks where boards and cladding had recently been pulled away from the windows and doors and the exterior was limed and plastered.

At the wide open door of the manor stood an incredibly tall lanky man covered head to toe in a voluminous roughspun brown robe over a suit of black stained plate and an old fashioned bucket helm revealing only his eyes. The figure regarded them as they approached...

Two young lads ran up to the group and offered to take the two horses to stable....where the groups ox was contentedly chewing its cud along side Chlainns horse.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:49, Wed 11 Dec 2019.

"It is wise to be wary, and wise to deal with a threat before it grows bolder, but we can nay be everywhere at once now, can we?" Caith says gently to the ferocious knight "Let others know where there be trouble in the woods, and they will ken sure enough what's to be done with those horse stabbing vermin."

That said, Caith makes sure to feed the horses, carefully slipping a loose rope halter over Dant's head as they finally feed from their mother, with no harm done to either horse in the process. "Thank ye." she says softly to both equines.

The hedgewitch looks to Leofwyn as she adds in grateful tone "There is a great power in first milk, to help both mother and foal after birthing. Ye have a similar kind of power in your hands, if that apple is anything to go by. I thank ye for using well the gift the gods have given ye."

She also takes the time in travel to closely question all of the party on their observations of the bandit knights and their archers, Deise most of all, for his sharp eyes and quick wit. During a break in travel to eat, she writes a short but carefully detailed report on a piece of paper folded small and wrapped in a scrap of thin leather sewn shut.

-------

Caith explains politely that evening when the party stops to camp "I need summon a small winged messenger to take word to the castle. Please nay harm them, as 'tis King Corbin's business I will be asking them to attend to."

From her belt pouches she produces a fine black feather, it's glossy darkness gleaming in the firelight, and spends a little while staring into the sky as she chants softly under her breath, holding the crow feather aloft in her left hand, a tiny package tied to it with strong woolen thread.

A large pair of wings can be head beating the air above the camp, then a dark shape against the stars can be seen, coming closer and closer. A particularly large crow, sleek of plumage and sharp of eye and beak drops down to Caith's outstretched hand and deftly plucks the feather from it with their claws before landing on her shoulder.

"Ye all right there, love?" the crow inquires in surprisingly human sounding speech, in a soft lilting Cornumbrian accent.

"Aye, and I hope ye are too, sir." Caith replies politely.

She offer a generous piece of ewe's milk cheese to the crow to peck at as she explains in a whisper to them who they need to take the message to, and where they may be found in simple but unmistakable terms...

--------

Over the next few days of travel, Caith offers a little lore regarding Hallowhall and it's inhabitants, frequently asking Brannon, Alphail, Usopi for any details she's forgotten.

"Not a big place, maybe two hundred folk within it's bounds, but recovering well from the old Duke's reign. Fine sheep, and they grow good barley, greens and any number of turnips."

"Piers the tanner there make an excellent bit of leather, the many sheep provide a wool that spins well and holds shape as thread with little work, and I found the ewe's cheese from the local market to be most tasty in flavor. Fair price for mutton, and fish too, when in season."

"Blacksmith Elen is said to have a bit of temper on her, but does a fine bit a work too, be it ploughshare or sword blade. Certainly knows her trade if ye ask me, though I be nay a metal smith myself."

"New lord in Hallowhall under King Corbin is a brave young woodcutter originally by trade, now Sir Garth, and his rapidly quickening with their first child wife and childhood sweetheart is the lovely Lady Clothilda. They are nay of noble birth, as I has said, but have a true tale of adventure as comrades in arms of Corbin afore he was King, and in being rescued from the clutches of evil behind their rise to nobility."

"Sir Garth's man at arms from the castle from the days afore Darian met his doom is a wee bit odd, tall and lanky, always in a suit of dark armour complete with helm, and a homespun brown robe over it. Nay says much, does Marn, but they are said to be a tenacious warrior, loyal even in the direst circumstance, and I would readily believe that to be so."

_{EDITED by Player for a couple of tour guide details I'd forgotten and Tucking Fypos.}
This message was last edited by the player at 00:55, Thu 12 Dec 2019.

Sir Turren thanks Caith for the information. When the boys offer to take the horses, he lets the women give the 'yay or nay', but he's sure to give the lads a florin each regardless.

'Do some good with those,' he tells them.

Leofwyn is happy to let the boys take the horses to a stable. Hopefully, with four walls around them, they may calm down enough to actually rest. "Please be gentle and slow with these two. They have had a worse few days than most."

Leofwyn then lets the 'speakers' of the group respond to the figure, keeping an eye out for where the boys are leading the horses.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:06, Tue 10 Dec 2019.

Marn scanned the group for a full minute before nodding and silently pointing the way inside.

Gat whined, his nose already picking up the scent of former playmates..

"Well, met, Marn." Brannon nods to the tall figure. "It is good to be here again."

He accepts the invitation, and steps through the doorway.

Usopi was pleased at the outcome with the other traveling warriors they had met, heartened to learn that other good minded folk traveled the roads. The horses he left to Caith and Leofwyn. Though he made himself available should the animals need anything urgently, he kept himself away from the care of the creatures. He trusted that the duo of women gifted in the arcane knew better than he how to care for the strange foal.

-------

At Caith's summoning of the crows, Usopi worried little, observing keenly but not much perturbed by it. He had witnessed her summoning of bees, and gnomes, and digger dwarfs, and now it surprised him little that a crow capable of human speech might arrive at her beck and call.

-------

Upon being greeted by the two older guardsmen Usopi extended a hand, "Greeting friends, Toby, I hope your employment has been dull and soft since last we met." he said with a warm smile as he grasped the men's arms in greeting.

When they reached Marn, Usopi waited patiently for the fellow to look them over, and as he passed he extended a hand also to the lanky knight, "I have not heard from your people since last we met, but I assure you that I will keep you updated as swiftly as I am."

At Gat's whining Usopi chuckled and reached down to rub Gat's side, "You may go and play." he told his hound as he laughed and patted the hound on the rump, ushering him toward the doors to Lord Garth's hall.

Sir Turren nods politely as he steps across the threshold.

As Gat ran ahead into the hall there was a sudden clattering of many claws on wood and a cacophany of barking rang out, a young man in his nightshirt stepped out from a side door holding a baby in one arm, those returning recognised him as Garth, " Oy! Quiet, You Mob!"

He looked confused for a second as he stared at the roiling tumble of wolfish canines in the somewhat ramshackle hall.

" Your not mine....you look like...", then he turned to the left and saw Usopi and the others entering.

" Oh! Hello there! Been a bit."

" Um....take a seat. I'll just get wee one down."

He called up the stairs, " Honey! We have guests."

He looked at Usopi again, " I'll go put some trousers on.", he said as he exited, closing the side door behind him.

A few seconds later Clothilda entered the hall walking slowly but in good cheer.


OOC:

Descriptions-

Sir Garth- solidly built early twenties, red faced, brown hair, callused hands.
Lady Clothilda- late teens, long blond hair, slightly pale and tired, but smiling.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:09, Thu 12 Dec 2019.

Caith gathers scraps of fleece caugh in the keeps a wary eye on Dant Hir, but as the foal is happily occupied with the contents of their nosebag, she greets one of the young shepherds with "Well met again, young sir! How fare ye and the ladies today?"

She draws closer and cheerfully adds "I regret that I can nay stop to chat long, but I've a few oatcakes left from breakfast if ye'd like a couple?" as she holds out a unknotted scrap of clean cloth in her hands, a fragrant aroma of baked oats, honey, dried apple and currants, and even a faint hint of rare spices issuing from it's folds.

True to her word, the hedgewitch does not linger to gossip.



Caith simply returns the friendly greetings with "Well met..." a name and a smile, passing out a few more oatcakes out on the way to the manor, heartened by the good mood of the common folk, and favorably inclined to think that all is well in Hallowhall.



"Thank ye." Caith says politely in passing.







Caith silently waves in greeting to Marn, untroubled by their imposing appearance now.

She smiles at both her comrades and the pair of stablelads, but looks to Brannon and says softly to him "I will be back in but a moment, Hearthwarden Darrow. I nay doubt young Alby's wisdom in horses, but Dant Tir is a most unusual horse. Only fair to let the lads know, lest they get off on the wrong foot with the young 'un, aye?"

The hedgewitch calmly offers both stablelads an oatcake, then quietly explains the flighty nature of the young filly as she accompanies them and the horses to the stable. She adds that she seeks the true owner of the mare found abandoned and left for dead by the roadside that is the dam of the filly, and believes them to be a local farmer some days to the south, but does not know which one.



Caith smiles to see them well cared for, even as a look of sorrow crosses her face at the reminder of a dead comrade left buried back at the moors.

She approaches Sir Chlainn's horse and offers an oatcake in her hand, flat palmed as she says quietly "Ye are nay a bee, my friend, and I nay be a knight, but someone should tell ye the news..."

Her voice drops to a sad whisper as she says "...Though it sorrows me to speak of it, ye should know that your comrade in battle, Sir Chlainn is nay more. He died bravely, fighting to the last, even though outnumbered, and defending a lad with more magic than mindfulness in him."

Caith reassure the bereaved equine "We'll look after ye for now though, nay fear, in his memory, and out of common decency."

She hurries back to the door that Marn guards after seeing to all the small herd of animals now in the party's care, and seeks admittance as she asks him "Might I join the rest of the pack inside, sir?"

Caith enters the hall just as Clothilda does, and greets her appearance with a warm smile, and a concerned query of "Well met, Lady Clothilda. How fare ye now?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:21, Thu 12 Dec 2019.

Sir Turren bows, but remains quiet, content to let the ladies reacquaint without immediate distraction.

He stands by the entrance for now, formal, having a care not to lean on anything except his own firm posture.

Clothilda grinned in return, " Oh, very good indeed....quite relieved."

She winked at Caith.

" Garth'll be out soon, he's good with her...I mean...treats her much the same he treats a pup..but that cannae do any harm."

" Some new faces here I see, and a couple missing....", she says carefully.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:07, Fri 13 Dec 2019.

Usopi smiled broadly as Garth recognized Gat and the rest of the party. He was gladdened to see the child, and then Clothilda still healthy after the birth. The people of Hallowhall deserved every ounce of goodness that came to them.

His smile waned a little at Lady Clothilda's observation, "We lost Chlainn to creatures in the moor, and Lann separated from us to take up another quest for King Corbin." he brightened again, "Though now we have been joined by Ser Turren Uedale and Lady Leofwyn, Deise, and Ser Uthen of Sadley."

He chuckled at a thought, "And what is the name of your new traveling companion? The existence of which deserves congratulations."

As Usopi was speaking, Sir Garth came back into the room now more suitably attired, " Ah! Yes, sorry about that."

He nodded to Sir Uthen and Turren, and waved to Deise, then bowed slightly to Leofwyn.

" Alysa, Sir Usopi.  She is named to honour a brave soul.", Garth said with a smile.

Sir Turren bowed.

Caith smiles wolfishly in relief, and replies "Glad to hear that, and I see nay harm in it either." genuinely pleased to see Lady Clothilda has survived with her good humor still intact.



Caith nods, and wisely falls silent and steps back to allow others to speak of them...





When Sir Garth speaks his daughters name, the expression of weary but proud parental joy in it makes any lingering doubt of Caith's swiftly leave, silently apologizing for the disturbance before shutting the door of her mind behind it.

Instead she smiles and produces a tiny sprig of pale but early blooming violet herb from the bitten ear of her wolfskin robe's hood, and offers it to Clothilda as she  pragmatically murmurs "Ye may find her green namesake useful as part of a salve for soothing the annoyance of skin rashes."

Garth looked saddened at the news of Chlainns death, but brightened again as he looked about at the new faces.

Clothilda thanked Caith.

" How long are ye staying?", ventured Garth.

" Also, Hungry?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:15, Sun 15 Dec 2019.

Usopi's wide grin spread even further at the knowledge of the child's name, "A fine name for a fine child>" he said, "Brannon can answer about our duration here, though I suspect it will be short. There is some holiday in Gliss apparently that we are attempting to return for. As for your question of hunger, I could certainly eat. Our return journey from Ereworn City has been mostly uneventful, but my belly calls for sustenance with no less insistence."

'Though not entirely uneventful,' Sir Turren speaks up now. 'Sir Turren of Uvedale at your service - You and yours should have a care on the roads. There are armoured bandits out in force, last seen not a couple of marches from here. Travellers should be warned if heading from whence we came, just to be safe.'

" Not a problem, uh...if ye wouldn't mind clearing the linens and such off the table I'll go see what we've got in kitchen.", Garth said with a smile.

Clothilda gave a crooked grin, " Uh, yes...place the folded ones over on the barrels and I suppose we can throw the unfolded over the high chairs....its not like we use them anyway..", she said waving her hand towards the end of the hall where two ornate stools sat against the wall.

A few minutes later Garth returned with a platter of half demolished ham sections and half dozen loaves of dark bread with containers of mustard and verjuice, " Theres a basket of cockles in there too which cooks got on the boil now."

" Armoured bandits? We'll get them sorted don't you worry.  We've enough lads here of age to get a force onto the roads now."

" Two days out, you say? Hmmm, far enough from Hallowhall and Ereworn Town to feel bold....but not too far for us to reach them.", Garth said putting down his burden on the table.

Clothilda looked at him concerned, and Garth nodded to her with a serious look.

" How many men and what was their composition? Men alone, yes? I'm nay too worried, we faced far worse in the past."

In reply to GM (msg # 115):

'Aye, yes armoured bandits,' Turren paws through his pack and pulls out Caith's gift - the finely worked wax tablet and stylus. He seems to do a quick inspection...

'Four mail-clad knaves and eight bowmen. Claiming to be searching for a green...' Eyes flick to tablet and up again. 'A green spear. Horse thieves at best, one and all. I suspect worse deeds to come, if they have not yet.'
This message was last edited by the player at 10:45, Sun 15 Dec 2019.

" Don't you worry, we'll get them....I'll send Marn and the lads out tomorrow."

In reply to GM (msg # 117):

Sir Turren bows again.'On behalf of the lives and livelihoods that might yet be saved, I thank you.'

In reply to GM (msg # 114):
Deise greets Sir Garth and Lady Clothilda respectively, but without formality as he senses they are plain people nownin positions of responsibility.

"Happy to meet you Garth, Lady Clothilda. News of your deeds have traveled far and I thank you for the welcome to your home. Sirs Uthen, Turren, Lady Leofwyn and I all serve King Corbin. The bandits we met along the way are in need of chastisement. I feel that some of those men are disparate and possibly starving. These bowmen might be shown the Kings justice is mercifull in return for repetence and fealty. The knights commanding the  bandits need a sterner response Infeel.

Brannon nods, soberly. "Our stay will be short, for we make haste for Glissom City. It is the Spring Festival there soon, and as a Heathwarden of the Temple I obligations to fulfil. What is the fastest route there from Hallowhall?"

"Ye be welcome, Lady Clothilda." Caith replies politely, but with genuine warmth to her words "...And if there be any other herb I have to hand that might help ye or the wee lass recover from the novel experience of birth? Then it is yours for the asking."

She adds with a friendly glance towards Leofwyn "If ye have any pressing need of fresh fruit, then Lady Leofwyn has a certain knack with orchards and groves too."

When Sir Garth speaks of food, and Lady Clothilda smilingly agrees, Caith simply helps move the linens onto the ornate stools, oddly comforted by the act of being useful, even if only in a small way.

She does ask Clothila quietly "Are these stools uncomfortable to sit on, or ye worried ye'll damage them in use? If it's the first that's bothering ye, there's always cushions, comfortable nay matter how fine and fancy they be."

The hedgewitch falls silent, content to listen as she adds her somewhat reduced contribution of oatcakes to the meal as Sir Turren speaks of bandits in heavy barding, but is gladdened to see a gift put to good use.

She quietly nods in agreement with Deise's assessment of the men in question.

Caith looks to Brannon as he confirms what she understands to be the underlying reason for his haste to reach the city in Glissom, and offers "It would look poorly on the Hearthwarden if he was nay there on time to pay his respects to Lady Brigantia at her own festival."

She offers a crooked grin of her own as she adds "Can nay have him getting into trouble with her for being late, nay when us lot are keeping an eye out for him on the road..."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:30, Mon 16 Dec 2019.

Clothilda looked across to Caith, " I think I'm right for now, Lady Caith."

" Perhaps I will.", she said with an eye on Leofwyn.

" Well.......can you really imagine us holding court all proper like? This one would probably turn up in his night dress half the time.", Clothilda grinned.

" Nay, better if folks feel free to come and go and ask what they will when they will....we might be in trouble if the King ever comes visit or one of them fancy lords from south."

Garth chuckled at Clothildas words, " Too true, my love."

He turned to Brannon, " Theres a wool shipment going upcoast on the early tide t'morrow. That'll get you there pretty sharpish."

"Indeed. I have enough of ritual and pomp at the Temple. It is why I am there so rarely."Brannon grins. "You are wise to focus on the obligations of power, than on its trappings. Your people are fotunate indeed to have such a Lord and Lady."

Hearing about the wool shipment, Brannon seems pleased. "That would be excellent. Then we will leave tomorrow, if the captain will have us. Who should I speak to make arrangements?"

Usopi warms noticeably at the Lord and Lady's organization of the meal. They were Usopi's ideal rulers. Thrones might as well be used to hang the linen. If there were bandits on the roads then of course they would set about taking care of it. No barrier aught to stand between the Lord and the people. Usopi did not know what he would find in Gliss, but he felt content that, should his adventures in Gliss end unfortunately, he would always be happy to return here to Hallowhall.

"In regards to the bandit knights, We've also notified King Corbin of their presence. Hopefully he also sends men after them, and the thieves might be cowed by the sheer pressure of their pursuit." He said happily as he shifted linen to barrel and stool.

He let Brannon figure out travel plans. It mattered little to Usopi how they got there so long as they did.

Leofwyn munches on the food along with everyone else. She nods, smiling, when Clothilda mentions her, and makes a note to stop past the gardens at some point before they leave to see how she can help.

" The captain is Kimbrick, he's staying with his men in the sailors quarters down at the dock. Nice fella, he'll take you gratis as a favour to me, or you can drop a few silver his way."

Caith smiles, content in the knowing of that fact.



Caith grins in agreement and suggests wryly "If the night dress be fine enough, who would know that it's nay a robe of office?"

As the conversation turns to travel by ship, Caith falls silent again, her expression somewhat glum as she realizes that taking large beasts via water is a complicated matter when swiftness is required.

She looks to Brannon, and says in a tone of regret "If that is the plan, then we'll have to leave the ox cart behind, and all the livestock too. Nay a lot of room on deck for them..."

Caith looks to Clothilda and Garth and asks "...Would ye mind a few guests in your stable for a while longer? Though I should warn ye one of them is known to be stolen, found abandoned and perilously close to death by the road."

"That is very good of you, Lord Garth. I shall give him some silver in any case - it is well to be generous. And you are right to remind me, Caith, that we will need to leave our animals here, if the locals are happy to stable them? Again, I am happy to pay something towards their upkeep..."

He draws five gold crowns from his purse.

OOC: Not sure what a reasonable offer would be here - I offering five crowns (since we're asking for an indeterminate period of time, and I'd like good things said about us to Corbin), on the basis that it's a generous offer. If it seems stingy rather than generous I'd like to retcon it to something higher! Brannon is aware that he's spending Colm's war chest here, but he sees greasing palms as an important part of his mission, and having met Corbin, he sees keeping the new king on side as particularly important!

" We're happy to house them, if you don't object we can make use of the ox for ploughing and the fallen knights horse will make communications between here and other places a tad quicker."

Garth grinned at the proffered coins, " A generous offer, my friend. But I'll take it."

Brannon places the coins in Garth's hand. "Thank you. And you are welcome to have the animals assist you as they can."

As Aphail travelled on the road towards Hallowhall, he is on the lookout for one of a number of weathered standing stones on the bluffs.  These ancient stones mark the sites of holy places dedicated to the ancient Gods.  Aphail will take a few hours out to pray to Artia as one of these sites en route to the coast.

Artia will sit in the middle of a circle and pray.  "Goddess Artia, I am travelling the home of your sister, to be at Her Patronal Festival of Brigantia at Glissom.  We face a terrible evil, a subversive evil that hides in the shadows.    How can I identify these enemies of nature.  How can I destroy them?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:41, Thu 19 Dec 2019.

Caith sits quietly, slightly to the left of Alphail in his vigil, and keeps watch.

The hedgewitch draws on her own power and a helpful worker bee as she silently asks three questions of Artia, Lady Of The Moon, Mistress Of Magic and Watcher Over The Wild Places:

If I become the wolf by wearing the wolfpelt I hold in my hands, will that help the cause of Clan Cernach?

If I become the wolf by wearing the wolfpelt I hold in my hands, do I become an enemy in your eyes, Lady Artia?

If that is so, then should I destroy the wolfpelt I hold in my hands?


OOC:Caith casts Oracle, and awaits whatever the goddess chooses to send in reply.

In reply to GM (msg # 134):

Everybody to the new thread.

Caith nods in understanding, pleased by the generosity shown by all parties, then looks stricken for a moment as a task left undone occurs to her. When things are quieter later that day, and she has a chance to speak to Lady Clothilda a moment alone...

Caith quietly rips a few stitches in her war coat sleeve's lining, pulls a small folded piece of paper from inside it's fleece filled layer of padding, and hands it casually to Lady Clothida with a soft spoken "Message for ye from Ereworn Town. I am ashamed to say that I put it away so securely that I near forgot all about it."

OOC: Sorry for the last post, it finally occurred to me what Caith had forgotten to do at Hallowhall. Derp... :(
This message was last edited by the player at 01:17, Fri 20 Dec 2019.