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.