Flynn leaned back heavily in his chair.  It was creaky and old but sturdy enough.  Like as not it had seen the last rebellion against the crown.  If it could weather that, it could weather Flynn Goodall's expanding arse.

Not that he wasn't in shape, Flynn reflected while drinking in the local spiced ale, all the muscle of his youth was still there, just sheathed in more padding than before.  That and, he liked to think, the grit of hard experience.

The thought pleased Flynn and the ale too wasn't bad.  It was as thin and yellow as piss, but the tavern keep had added a blend of spices that made it pleasant enough without being too heavy.  Belarius himself couldn't have done a better job.

To one side of him at the low table sat Elsa, his second-in-command, tearing surgically at a chicken breast with her thin knife.  She was still something to look at, Flynn conceded, though the deep scar running from eye to chin and the bow slung across her back made clear that she was worth more than that in a fight.  She wasn't the brightest mercenary Flynn had worked with, but she was trustworthy, strong and could put an arrow shaft up a bee's arse from half a mile away.

The rest of his small band was out enjoying the town, a rare night off for Flynn's group of mercenaries.  His last payout had been over a week prior after he'd lost half of his men to Xerxes rebel dogs in the outskirts of the northern wood.

To Saunders, Flynn muttered, raising his beer.  Copper, Danny Longlegs, Reaver, Martin, Half-face and Guines.

"May they dream of Heaven," Elsa agreed, raising her own mug.

Together they drank.

"It'll be hard replacing that lot," Elsa noted as she went back to her meal.

Aye, but we'll need the manpower if we're to serve Lord Gallister, if we're wanting to finish in less than a year I mean.

Elsa shrugged.  Flynn had worked beside her long enough to understand this meant that she was generally indifferent.  New recruits meant breaking in and the possibility of a green idiot getting you killed.  Then again, Elsa had been a novice once.

The rest of the lads are out looking for fresh meat.  We'll take who we can find here and then move on in a few days.  Box their ears while we work our way across the plain and anyone who washes out can part ways there.

North of the Kiln: neither plain nor mountain really... just nothing as far as Flynn was concerned.

Elsa shrugged, a woman of few words.

Besides, Flynn added as he flagged down the tavern keep for another beer, collecting taxes from helpless villagers?  What could be easier?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:59, Thu 20 Nov 2014.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 1):

Flynn stepped out of the dingy tavern into the sunlight.  He blinked and shielded his eyes, unprepared for the glare.  The morning before had begun with heavy clouds and proceeded to a thin fine rain like a thousand gnats pissing all over everything.

They'd reached Haven near to noon the day before and by then Flynn's whole company had had enough of the weather.  They'd earned a night off.  Still, there was a job to do and so while the master of the small company rested his sore behind in the tavern with Elsa for a second day, the rest had plodded back out into the rain to look for recruits.

Fortunately, though he had to give up his seat, at least it had stopped raining.

And he would have been happy to keep drinking and being dry, but all too soon Lump had poked his ugly head up beside the table.

"Sir, Flynn, sir.  Jake's back an' says he'n the boys have rounded up some hopefuls"

Flynn had debated boxing the young hunchback's ear but thought better of it.  Instead he'd finished his beer and signaled for Elsa to follow him out.

Now, Lump sticking to him like a shadow, Flynn made his way from the tavern door to the market.

Haven's center was a large open plot of land trodden to dust then into a hard-packed floor by countless boots and hooves.  This market was always abuzz with small tents, wooden and cloth stands, carts and ramshackle hovels where farmers, merchants and traders peddled their various wares.

The western half of this open market was semi-circled by a half-ring of inns, taverns, brothels and drinking halls.  Behind that, like an onion, were the other layers of the town radiating out to the west toward the vast forest.  First came the craftsmen, smithies, tinkers, fletchers, tanners and the like, then the farmers houses, granaries, bakers and all.  Furthest west were the small cottages of woodsmen, hunters and trappers, then the vast wood and many miles away Red Junction.

At the eastern border of the market were two stone towers surrounded by wooden palisades, the only defense Haven possessed.  Oh the locals liked to say "peace is our shield" or some such shit, but Flynn didn't think a juggler's fart of that notion.

He stomped heavily, maille jangling around him.  He preferred not to wear it when he aught be relaxing, but appearances had to be kept up.

"There's Jacob and the Kattenses!" Elsa pointed out.  Her eyes were far younger and keener than Flynn's.  He squinted and sure enough, made out Jacob's lanky form and the big twins' proportions across the market.

They walked past a young shepherd doing his best to get under the petticoats of a merchant's daughter.  They walked past a man selling apples for two pennies apiece, though to hear him tell it, he was letting you rob him.  They walked past a small stand where a man dressed in motley had set up a dozen Raze-snails on a saw horse and for a penny you could smash as many as you liked with a hammer until the count of ten.

All this Flynn ignored and more, until finally he reached a small clearing beside a well.

There, Jacob Larelle, the beanpole spearman, leaned against a javeline.  Beside him stood the Kattenses, identical twins Hoy and Marlo Kattens each near enough to seven feet.

Allright, then.  Flynn said, resting one hand on the hilt of his sword.  Let's see what you've turned up.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Thu 11 Dec 2014.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 2):

"Why does everyone insist on squeezing their eyes shut?" Brennan mutters to himself between clenched teeth, panting heavily as he ducks through the sparsely populated yet surprisingly twisted streets of Haven.

"The truth is out there!" he calls over his shoulder, cupping a hand to project his voice toward his pursuers. A rock sails over his head in response, and Brennan refocuses his attention on his running.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies a convenient canvas overhang that's been pinned up to shield the merchant below it from the scalding sun. He slows to a stop, draws his bow, nocks an arrow, fires, then sprints after his arrow without waiting to see if he hit his target.


The arrow sails into one of the pegs holding the awning upright, causing it to fall in front of the merchant's stand like a ramp. Brennan scrambles up his makeshift ladder, jumps onto the rooftops, and lands easily in an alley on the other side of the building.

Panting and sweating profusely, he presses his back against the dark alley walls until his pursuers have passed by. Once his breathing has returned to normal, he walks back into the sunlight and approaches the merchant whose awning he'd just used as an escape route.

"Terribly sorry about that," he says, handing the bewildered man a coin. "For your trouble."

Not long afterward, Brennan finds himself drinking alone at a nondescript watering hole when a slender man slides into the seat beside him.

"Nice shot. If you're looking for work and wouldn't mind ducking town for a little while, might be you should come with me."

The slender man stands and leaves the tavern. After a moment's consideration, Brennan pays his tab and follows him out.

***

"You're Flynn, I take it?" one of the recruits says, stepping forward and offering an appropriate bow. Sandy brown hair poked out from his hood, and his eyes twinkled good-naturedly as he straightened to his usual posture.

"The name's Brennan, if it pleases you, sir. And if you're in the market for talent, I'm in the market for work."

He stands with an easy grace and maintains a care-free disposition as easily as one might breathe. He's not immediately likeable, per se, but he does exude an almost palpable aura of competence, confidence, or maybe arrogance. It's hard to tell.

"I've been told you're recruiting fighters, sir, but if you don't mind my saying so, any lug can swing a sword. I can do you one better."

Brennan flashes another smile and brandishes his bow.

"In addition to wielding a mean cudgel, I can tell you with a straight face that you're looking at the best archer in a hundred leagues. I'm also a bit of haggler, sir, so you're sure to get the best deals in town as long as I'm doing the talking."

He shoulders his bow and crosses his arms across his chest.

"Talking's the only thing I do better than shooting, if I'm being honest, sir. Well, that and writing. I'm lucky enough to be literate, sir, and not just in the common parlance. If you do any business in Chal'i or Nor, or with folks from those regions, I can help you with the translation, with the contracts, and with the payout at the end."

"Best of all, sir, between the hunting and the haggling, I practically pay for myself. You won't regret taking me on."

Brennan gives another bow, smiles, and steps back into line with the other recruits.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:35, Wed 10 Dec 2014.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 3):

You see somebody walking naked across the town square.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 4):

Gazes shift toward the sudden nudist, but are drawn back at the crashing sound of 3 men being smashed through a table by a giant of a man wielding a freaklishly long staff.

Uldaf, clearly tipsy

Yer counting cards. You know the rules in this tavern about counting cards. Does Yggy here need to remind you what happens when you try to cheat me?

The man pauses, clearly labroing as he finishes his pontification. He reaches for a wench and a stein, downing them both with ease.

He regains his composure, pressing his staff across the chest of all 3 men.

Now's the part where you say you're sorry and ye run laddies.

I bet they wet themselves.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 5):

And here I thought I'd be working with professionals.

Brennan's sigh is audible, but he holds his tongue and waits to see how Flynn reacts.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:19, Wed 10 Dec 2014.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 6):

The corner of Flynn's mouth curls up in a wry smile.

Seeing as a hundred leagues includes Elsa here, I'd advise you to keep your boasts to yourself, son.

Elsa herself has her jaw set in what is clearly an open challenge.

However, huntsmen I've seen aplenty, but the longbow is not an easy weapon to master.  If you can bend that with any skill, I may have use of you.

Flynn bits his lower lip.  A gift for tongues too may come in handy.  Some of these farmers north of the Kiln don't speak proper.  You can read, can you?  Flynn's eyes fly to the tall twins the back to Brennan.  Makes no matter, but can't hurt I suppose.  We leave tomorrow at dawn.  Be here and be ready to travel.  Pay will be 6 pennies a month plus food and a small bonus from his lordship.

The large mercenary's attention is drawn to the drunken mountain man and the nudist, the latter of whom is starting to attract the attention of the local guard.

And what dream of Hell is this now?
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Thu 11 Dec 2014.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 7):

City folk. You can always count on them to try and cheat you out of your money with sex, lies, or violence.

Uldaf lets the 3 scared card players flee, shifting his attention toward Flynn and the mercenaries.

Well met lads. Don't suppose you play cards?

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 8):

If the stars are right, Flynn replies casually, though unless you're looking for work, I haven't time at the moment.  You seem to be able to handle yourself if not your drink.  I may have use for a man who can scare the piss out of commoners.

Flynn looks to his crew then back to Uldaf.

Have you anything else to offer besides your stick?

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 9):

Six pennies a month plus board? I can do better than that... but it wouldn't do to question it in front of his men. We'll renegotiate later.

Brennan makes use of Uldaf's distraction by getting a better look at those Flynn inadvertently indicated would be his main redundancies in the mercenary party: Elsa and the twins.

His gaze lingers longer on the former than the latter, and he raises an eyebrow reflexively as he considers what could have scarred the otherwise lovely archer's face and eye socket.

"Don't worry, love," he says with a grin when she catches his eye. "I can settle for being the best male archer in a hundred leagues until we get a chance to trade targets."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:18, Thu 11 Dec 2014.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 9):

Aye, though most people fortunate enough to see my stick generally don't ask for additional references.

Names Uldaf Asbjorn. Chaos in the north has ripped me from my ancestral lands just outside of Losthelm. When the city into rebellion, the surrounding countryside became an all out battlefield. I was able to fend for myself, but my home and my cattle were not so lucky in my absence.

With nothing left to come back to, and a lust for revenge in my belly, I set out on a quest of mischief and vengeance while I wait for the dainty politicians to finish their petty squabbles and decide who gets the prettiest crown.

I'm a more than capable fighter, survivalist, woodsman, and healer, to say nothing of my dabbling in the alchemical arts.

If there's an opportunity for some extra coin and shaking down some unworthy nobles and commoner alike, I'd love to hear more about it.

The day's looking up!

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 10):

"I never worry," the archer replies turning up her nose.  "But if you step any closer, I'll make sure you're not a male for long."

In reply to GM (msg # 12):

Flynn raises one hand to signal that the discussion is to end immediately.

I can make use of two bows at any rate, no matter the damage to anyone's pride.

He turns to face Uldaf, and gestures to his crew thus assembled.

Lost helm you say?  Well then you certainly are a traveled soul, aren't you?  Here I have Elsa, Jabob and the Katenses.  If you bring your potions and can stitch a slash to the leg, we'll have you with us for sure.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 13):

Well met indeed.

Now what do we make of the ill-equipped nudist?

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 14):

"I believe the guards will handle it," Brennan shrugs. "Might be interesting to watch."

He frowns.

"If you're into that sort of thing."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 15):

Brennan furrows his brow as he considers the naked man frolicking throughout the town square, debating whether or not he is actually breaking the law and what sort of punishment he might get to see meted out upon the unfortunate individual once the guards catch him.

[Law: 2x8]

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 16):

Uldaf ponders the small genitaled man, but is incapable of coming to a reasonable conclusion as to why such an ungifted man would parade around so publicly and so nude.

[Psychology Fail]

City folk

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 17):

"Like as not some sort of performer," Elsa comments.  "He has the body of a tumbler and there are paint marks on his body."

"Nah," Jacob replies, shifting his javelin to the other hand.  "Like as not he's just funny in the head."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:08, Tue 16 Dec 2014.

In reply to GM (msg # 18):

The walker doesn't dally in the square long.  He walks with purpose directly into the retial district of the city.

/ooc back from honeymoon!  YAY life accomplishment unlocked.  Essentially I want to play this as you see him walk throught he square and he will come back a few minutes later.  I'll write something up tomorrow (hopefully to introduce myself. /ooc

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 19):

Well, now that that's done, what else did you find Jacob?

Flynn follows the spearman's pointed finger over, then up the large form of a Chal'i islander.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 19):

A poster attached to a pillar catches Titus' attention.  He walks up to it and pulls it down reading it quietly to himself.

Tax collector eh?  He muses queitly.

Folding the paper neatly he looks down at his clothes dirty and torn from years of living on the street.  He reaches into his purse and pulls out a thin penny... half of all of the money he had in the world.

Noone will take me looking like this.  Why did I have to buy that magnesium powder, I could have gotten new clothes for the cost of this. 

He sighs and walks up to an inn.  The innkeeper looks at him with open hostility.

We don't want your kind in here scaring off the customers and trying to beg from people while they eat thei....

The innkeeper tails off at a venomous look from Titus.

I'm here as a paying customer... not much of one but paying nonetheless.

He slides the penny across the bar.

I need a bath.  Nothing fancy, just some warm water and soap.  A towel if you can spare it.  If you need me to work an hour in the kitchens before the bath I am perfectly willing and able to do so.

The innkeeper takes the penny and leans forward whispering to Titus

Go around to the back, I'll let you directly into the kitchen.  You scrub the large kettle out to milady's satisfaction and I will give you a large copper tub filled with hot water, a sliver of soap and a towel.  Don't say anything to me you just walk out to the back of the inn.

Titus nods solemnly and walks out of the inn around to the back.  After a few minutes a grubby woman answers the door bustling him into the kitchens.  She points at a large cauldron used to make stew in the hearth.  The kettle is crusted with lord knows how many days worth of junk on it.

We will use that cauldron to heat your water deary.  She says in a reedy voice.

So make it as clean as you want to be.

Titus smiles and bows.  As you wish milady.

~~~~Time passes~~~~

Titus looks down at the gray water and shutters inwardly.

This never would have happened in the troupe.  I miss them dearly.  For a moment a view of violence and bloodshed clogs his vision.  He shakes his head sending a spray of water around the alley where he was washing. His bone shard necklace thumps solidly against his chest and he smiles.  He kisses it for good luck.

Jaw of Min the artificer... passed down the Blackwell line for generations.

He looks at his disgusting clothes and wrinkles his nose at them.

That will not do at all.

He takes his meager possessions and ties them in a bundle with his old clothes.  Walking naked and confident he goes from the inn walking through the town square towards a tailor with some middling regard.  He stashes his filthy bundle in a bundle out of site.  He walks to the tailor assuming a young noblemans gait, demeanor and voice.

I've been robbed!  He screams as he enters the shop.  The tailor scrapes his way to the front to check the ruckus, seeing what is, ostensibly, a young nobleman in full pique.

I was robbed... by a whore!  She stole my clothes and purse.

He crosses his arms and sits heavily into a chair.

I mean honestly!  I am the SON OF LORD BRAKEN!  I can't go home like this!  Tailor, make me a new outfit and send the bill to my father.

After some brief haggling over price (just enough to make it look real) Titus emerges from the tailor wearing a new green outfit with a cape with lots of pockets in it.  The clothes are sturdy but unremarkable, while not looking a nobleman he is surely a far cry from a wandering vagrant.  He returns to the ally and retrieves his belongings spending several minutes to put everything in its place inside of his cloak.

Then with his new outfit and his face washed for the first time in months he strides confidently back into the square.  Walking directly up to Flynn and Elsa.

My lord, my lady he says flashing his best smile at Elsa a mere upward tick of her lips shows that she has noted his smile.  He bows deeply.  Allow me to introduce myself...

He pause for dramatic effect.

Titus Blackwell.  At your service.

He notes the glint of recognition in Elsa and Flynn's face.

Ah! I see you have heard of me.  That will save a lot of meaningless explanation.  I would love to join your party as opportunities have been... lean here.  He shoulders the lute on his back.

I'm certain that many of the good folks in the country will not be... overly pleased to see the tax collector.  That being said, maybe with a quick song or some juggling we could avoid fighting and bad feelings alltogether.

Besides...

He says surveying the grim group before him

While all of these men look perfectly capable in a fight, it is best if we can do our job quickly, and cleanly.  No fighting is the best fighting.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 21):

Flynn frowns deeply and raises one eyebrow at Elsa.  The archer returns his concerned gaze.

A performer you say?

He looks over Titus' clothes.

Odd, I'd have taken you for a lordling, but that explains it.

Flynn casts a glance toward where earlier he'd had the opportunity to view Titus sans clothes.  His face makes clear that he will never speak of it again.

Can't say I've a particular need for juggling or music.  Our task is to collect coin from those less than eager to part with it.  There may be fighting aye, but intimidation and the threat of fighting may serve well enough.

Flynn thumbs the hilt of his sword for a moment.

Tell you what lad.  We're headed where men may not have seen a... man of your talents in quite some time.  Might be you can make money along the way and in the towns as we go about our business.  I'll offer you soup enough to keep your belly full and protection from bandits and what have you, in exchange you entertain me and the company.

Who knows, if you're good enough some might see fit to chip in for a retainer of some sort.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 22):

You are too kind sir.  Titus bows deeply.

I'm certain you will find that I am the best you will ever meet, and of more use than you initially believe.  Men unwilling to part from the coin may do so if they see the benefit and reason in doing so.  I was born into a troupe, I am not some ragtag performer.  I was raised on the stage. 

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 23):

Brennan casts an calculating look in Titus's direction.

Arrogance like that is enough to get you killed... unless you can back it up. We'll see how the "lordling" handles life on the road.

After a moment, he waves at the performer and smiles.

"The more, the merrier, particularly if they can carry a tune," he says to Titus. "Tell me, do you know the Requiem of Two Dreams? I would be glad to teach it to you if you do not. It is a beautiful song, steeped in an inconvenient truth."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:38, Thu 18 Dec 2014.

WHAM! "Eight..." WHAM! "Nine..." WHAM! "Ten." WHAM! "Ten! I said ten!"  the hawker practically leapt over his sawhorse, now covered in the remains of a few raze snails and a multitude of hammer dents.  "I think your friends are looking for you, go break their livelihoods," he waved toward the center of the square as Jacob pointed at Enrei through the small bubble the crowd had formed either to avoid the foreigner, or his borrowed hammer.

"Oh!  Thank you.  You have very fun," Enrei replied, oblivious to the man's distress and leaving him to wonder if the experience was worth the three pennies he'd earned.  Enrei walked toward Flynn and his crew as Titus made his introduction.  He didn't quite understand Flynn's business proposition to the performer, but he waited patiently until the larger of the two turned to consider him.  Then he smiled, people like it when you smile.

"Hello!  I am Enrei.  This man," he trusts a finger toward Jacob, "says that I can be mercenary, but first I must talk to man in charge."  He claps his heafty hands on Flynn's shoulders and smiles even wider, "You are man in charge, yes?  I am mercenary now!"

"That's not quite," the spearman tries to clarify the proposition that had brought Enrei along with them, but couldn't stop the islander from pulling Flynn into an embrace that lifted his feet off the ground for a moment and cracked most of his lower back.

"I will be very good at mercenary," the dark-skinned giant states upon releasing his new employer, "Thank you very much."  He pauses for a moment, before something occurs to him, "What is your name?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:59, Thu 18 Dec 2014.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 25):

A wonderful choice.

He smiles broadly, unshrugs his lute and begins to play the song, when he sees Enrei walk up.  His playing drops lower and lower so he can listen as the large man begins to speak to Flynn.  When the large islander picks up the band leader a grin splits Titus' face so wide you can see his molars.

He keeps his mirth to himself but leans over to Brennan he continues to pick out the melody.

I like him.  He's going to be great fun. 

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 26):

"Agreed," Brennan says to Titus quietly. "Large but friendly, and clearly from out of town. I wonder what customs he has and how they differ from our own..."

This last bit is clearly rhetorical, after which he smiles as Titus plays and hums quietly along.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 27):

It's nice to see you with color in your cheeks and clothes on your body lad. Based on your previous display of prowess, I was worried you'd been stricken with hypothermia.

It seems we've assembled a band of misfits Master Flynn. What's next?

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 28):

OOF Flynn lets out as the big Islander lifts him off his feet.  Though surprised, he does a decent job of recollecting himself and maintaining his professionalism.

So YOU'RE the Chal'i they told me about?  Well then.  I think that even if you cannot fight half as well as you can hug, you'll scare the pants off the yokels well enough.

Flynn massages his shoulder joint and watches Enrei's bobbing smile.

Yes, I believe you could crush a man if need be, but maybe they'll think you some sort of foreign bear and leave their gold on the ground.

Anyone paying close attention will notice one corner of Elsa's mouth curls up slightly at this jest, but only slightly.

At any rate, if you'll use those arms in my service, you'll have food, lodgings when we get them and six pennies a month, plus a small percentage of the taxes collected when it suits Lord Gent.

Flynn signs "eating" and rubs his fingers together when he discusses pay just to make sure the Islander gets the message.

Lord Gent, he clarifies, is the man paying us, and the man whose money we will be collecting.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 29):

To Uldaf

I'm a grower not a shower milord it certainly gets the job done when need be.

A sly wink over at Elsa, who despite herself blushes ever so slightly.

At the mention of Lord Gent Titus lets out a barely audible sigh as if he were holding his breath.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:10, Thu 18 Dec 2014.

Enrei nodded proudly as Flynn commented on his brute power, even the comparison to a bear didn't phase him.  When compensation was mentioned, Enrei was familiar enough with "food" and "six pennies" that the signing wasn't necessary.  The rubbing of fingers to indicate money was particularly new, and Enrei mimicked the sign, staring at his own fingers, wondering what he was missing as Flynn moved on to Lord Gent.  "This is very good pay," Enrei finally agreed, "Where do we go to be collecting money?"

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 31):

At this, Flynn laughs, a loud bellowing laugh that causes his whole body to shake.

Enrei, I think I like you, he chuckles. You've got a sense of humor.

He then addresses everyone assembled, which includes Titus, Enrei, Brennan, Uldaf and a few others that Jacob rounded up earlier.

We leave at sunrise.  Meet us with all of your gear at the northern tower.  He points to one of the two round sentry towers sticking up in the East over the buildings of Haven.

From there we march to Lord Gent's lands.  Any man who changes his mind or is too drunk to roll off his bed will be left behind.

With that, Flynn stomps off with Elsa hot on his heels, though Jacob and the Katenses remain if any wish to speak with them.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 32):

You are free to do as you wish in Haven until dawn the next morning.  As soon as everyone seems to have finished any business/random fun for the evening, I'll advance to that point.

In reply to GM (msg # 33):

Brennan meets Flynn and Co. with all his gear by the northern tower at sunrise.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 34):

Brennan finds himself greeted by Uldaf, who appears to have made camp at the same location.

A mostly clothed Uldaf emerges and smiles at the clearly puzzled Brennan.

Efficiency laddie!

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 35):

I will spend the night before back in the neighborhoods and in the bars playing the lute and telling stories about the first men, quick witted young lads living in cities and the tale of Titus Blackwood, the lordling who masqueraded as a homeless child for years, just to see what it was like and determine the quality of people (I perform under a pseudonym, most of the audience recognize him anyway).



It was a hell of a performance (Command + Perform 3x7)
This message was last edited by the player at 18:14, Mon 22 Dec 2014.

In reply to GM (msg # 33):

When Flynn and Elsa leave, Enrei approaches Jacob, "I am mercenary now!" he repeats joyfully.

"That you are," Jacob agrees, giving a faint chuckle at his methods.

"I would like to ask you one thing," Enrei continues, Jacob raises an eyebrow, "What means this word, 'mercenary?'"

"What?  Well, it's pretty simple:  mercenaries do jobs other people don't much care for," Enrei stares blankly, awaiting clarity, "To be frank, we usually do other people's dirty work," he tries a different approach, holding up his javelin meaningfully.

"Frank is mercenary who works with dirt?" is Enrei's eventual reply, even more confused now.  Jacob finally takes a moment to size up his new comrade, giving him a long, hard look.

"On second thought, this isn't going to be as simple as I thought," he decides.  The night is spent receiving the long, slowly spoken version of a mercenary's duties, accompanied by enough drink so as to properly appreciate Enrei's cognative ability during the telling.  The Islander is the last of the new recruits to arrive at the tower in the morning, but he somehow seems even more eager than he was upon meeting Flynn.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 37):

Although Flynn himself doesn't arrive at the northern tower until the first slivers of light appear above the horizon, his crew are already there and hard at work.

The company has two small wagons and three horses to pull these.  The wagons are piled with food and supplies and covered with thick tarps to keep off rain which, thank God's dream, is not currently falling.

Elsa directs the loading of the carts and the hitching of the horses without a word.  Jacob, who does his best to laze around the outskirts of the operation is repeatedly called into service by her stern looks, though it does nothing to abate his attempts at laziness.

By the time Flynn stomps over in full armor save his helm, the carts are ready to go and the company are prepared to march.

Flynn nods to the new recruits, then casts his gaze at a collection of larger wagons being hitched up nearby.  They appear by their look to be merchants of some kind and in addition to their wagons they have a small collection of livestock.

Hold here a moment, but don't wander off, he mutters.

Flynn marches up to a few of the men standing around the larger wagons and speaks with them for a spell, pointing first at the road ahead then back at his company.

When he returns, he is leading a pair of goats.

Here, tie these to the rear wagon, he orders Lump.

The young hunchback hurries to oblige, then hops up on the back of the rear wagon himself.

These poor merchants couldn't afford any proper fighting men, Flynn notes to those around him.  Seeing as there's like to be bandits once we're closer the crossroads, I offered to stick with them as far as that.  He points to the goats.  And in exchange we get fresh meat along the way.  Allright everyone, let's move out!

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 38):

The walk begins pleasantly enough and keeping pace with the merchants' large carts keeps the pace at a level amble.

As the sun rises up, it gives way to a beautiful and near-cloudless morning.  There is a faint chill in the air that is swept away by dawn's light and clings only to the grass on either side of the road in the form of heavy drops of dew.

The road East from Haven is beaten dirt but wide and well-enough used as to keep it mostly free of weeds and debris.

The morning walk passes in relative silence.  After several hours of marching, the caravan stops briefly, just enough time to feed and water the animals and for Lump to hop down off the cart and heat up a thick metal pot of stew.

"Just onions n' such" he notes as he spoons it out for the mercenaries.

When everything is loaded back onto the carts and the procession moves once again, Flynn takes a small barrel out of the front cart and hands it to Elsa.  This turns out to be a heavy and potent spiced wine.  The archer pulls the cork and takes a swig, then passes it to the next man in line and so on.

Thus you are able to meet and learn about Flynn's Company...

Jacob, Elsa, the Kattenses and Lump have been with Flynn the longest.  The next longest are Turncoat Dan, Hobbled Seth, Sir Twelvepenny and Arule.  Turncoat Dan, an animated fellow with the brand of a deserter on his forehead, is glad to tell the stories of Flynn's Company, especially those in which he saved the day.  Hobbled Seth, a massive hairy man with a bad limp, is far more reserved and normally just grunts to agree or disagree with what Dan has to say.  Sir Twelvepenny, the others assure you, is no knight despite his airs and the fine armor he possesses.  If asked about his name, he'll say cooly that this is his price for any job.  No more no less.  Arule is a portly fellow with a thick sword and a quick-mind for quoting the bible.

The next additions appear to be Harma Smith, a solid woman with long beaded braids and a pet mouse and , Khan the low, who the others claim is, in fact, a raider from the Badlands.  As proof, they point to his helmet, which appears to be a large human skull fitted with metal bands.  Sir Twelvepenny notes that it couldn't possibly be an Ogre skull as Khan claims.  Finally, there's the man called Halfdead.  This is a squirrely-looking man who, true to his name, is missing several fingers, several teeth, three toes and a chunk of his scalp.  He claims his real name is Templeton and that the long iron rod he carries topped with a brass cage is in fact a lantern post from Hyrium.  Why he carries this as a weapon he won't say.

In reply to GM (msg # 39):

And finally, Flynn notes, interrupting Turncoat Dan's introductions, is Godrick Rogers.

Flynn indicates a pale man who had been doing his best to keep out of sight.  Beneath a thick cloak which he pulls around himself like a safety blanket you can see fine clothes peaking out.

Godrick is Lord Gent's master of coin.  He'll be accompanying us around his Lordship's lands and seeing that all of the tax money is... accounted for.

Godrick nods and sniffs uncomfortably but adds no further detail.

In reply to GM (msg # 39):

Brennan will attempt to learn if Sir Twelvepenny is, in fact, being paid 12 pennies for this expedition, and if so if that's his monthly retainer or what. He will also make no attempt whatsoever at further ruffling Elsa's feathers, and banter with Arule about religion rather openly -- though not mean spiritedly.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:04, Mon 22 Dec 2014.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 41):

"It's not for the mission", Turncoat Dan chimes in, "it's twelve pennies for his loyalty.  He's not much of a mercenary, and if he were a whore well, he'd be so popular he wouldn't be able to walk."

"Fuck off," Sir Twelvepenny offers.  "They call me that on account that I gave up being a knight, and it was more than twelve pennies I'll have you know, but it WAS for money.  Now that the story has stuck, however, seems fair pay for a job.  I'll take my twelve from each town we visit, one way or another."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 41):

Titus pays rapt attention to the stories of Dan taking copious mental notes.  The two of them jaw back and forth for some times swapping and one upping each other for the deeds of their lives.  Things go from cordial, to strained to friendly with the two of them over the course of an evening.

After dinner Titus will entertain the team with songs, juggling and theatrical performances.  Taking requests from the audience to perform favorite pieces of famous plays.  He does all roles himself, men, women, children, even once he played the part of an ass walking on all fours and braying.

When he finishes a particularly speedy dialog for the merchant and the fishmonger he knows with a performers instinct that this is the height of the show and better to leave them wanting more, than giving them too much.

He takes his bow and wanders off of the makeshift stage to sit next to Enrei.

What are performances like in the islands? 

He says doing a halfhearted juggle to demonstrate his point.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 43):

"Really? What did you take from Haven?" Brennan asks Twelvepenny, not unkindly. Noting the man's rather abrupt disposition, he turns to the turncoat knight, instead. "Has he ever gotten Flynn and Co. in trouble searching for his twelve per town?"

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 44):

"This one time," Turncoat Dan fills in eagerly, "Some little lordling refused to pay.  Stood right there in front of his wife and his friends and their wives and all.  Well Sir Twelvepenny here took one look around the room and he judged the lordling's wife's fine shirt was worth about twelve pennies.  So what did he do?  He stepped up calm as you please, tore it right off her, turned on his heels and marched out of there.  Lordling's wife standing there covering her tits with her hands while the lordling fumed."  Dan grins widely.  "Isn't that so Sir?"

Sir Twelvepenny makes no move to acknowledge or deny the tale.  "No work in Haven," he says with a shrug.  "So no pennies."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:02, Mon 22 Dec 2014.

In reply to GM (msg # 39):

Enrei is immediately enamored with Turncoat Dan's storytelling and after Flynn has introduced Godrick, he immediately nudges the branded man to continue.  Enrei is a rapt audience, and despit any language barrier, he manages to "ooh" and gasp at the appropriate moments, especially once Seth confirms the events.  He even offers up the occasional childish "then what?" at points of suspense.  Though he was easily captured by the art of storytelling, Enrei hoped Dan was willing to retell his tales, so that he could learn the parts between his new comrades' names.  When Titus joins in the stories he is even more eager to listen, and when the performer starts acting out the parts he is at first confused but it quickly turns to delight.  Much of the content fails to sink in, but that doesn't stop him from enjoying the performance.

When the entertainer actually comes over and addresses him, Enrei does not have a ready answer, "It has been long time since I have been home," he says, not quite whistful.  "We do not tell stories like this," he waves at the space that served as Titus's stage, "I do not have many stories from my home.  Many of my favorite stories come from sailors who visit.  They have very good stories.  But sometimes we have other things, like this," he points to Titus's juggling, "During great big...eh, I do not know word.  It has food and many people, every year," he tried hopefully to describe his meaning before pressing on, "but it also has music, and dancing.  It is always very fun."

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 46):

Can you teach me?

He stands up and with a flourish holds his hand out.

Teach me to dance!

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 47):

Enrei frowns, "I do not know dance, I was not very good when I was little," it was hard to imagine he ever was such a thing.  Despite his misgivings, Titus's enthusiasm is infectious, "But maybe for you I can teach," he stands up and puts his hands on Titus's shoulders.  "Let me think," Enrei closes his eyes clearly concentrating very hard, "First like this," He hauls Titus to his left, then abruptly swings his arms the other way, forcing the performer to stagger after his upper body, "Yes, I remember," it's anyone's guess if the sudden twist is an attempt to spin Titus or dislocate his shoulder, but Enrei choses the same moment to open his eyes and see the man he's practically tossing about.  This inspires him to grip Titus even more tightly, stopping him completely.  "No, no.  You are not a good dancer," Enrei scolds Titus as he squats down and grabs him by the ankles, "You must do like this," Enrei procedes to educate Titus on what is apparently proper footwork by lifting his legs, regardless of what weight is currently resting on them, and place them in sequence.  It is easily the least elegant dance ever.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 48):

Titus now being made quite a specatacle tries not to laugh at himself, Enrei or the situation.  His smile is infectious and talk around the fire dies down so the others can point and laugh.

He does his best to learn the steps but it doesn't take very well.

We'll have to try more again tomorrow night.  He says with no bite at all in his voice.

Titus will continue to talk to Enrei trying to learn language, customs, dance, performance, and even some fighting moves.  The latter ended in raucous laughter as Enrei proceeded to throw him around the camp like a rag doll.  At one point Titus tried to end the lesson by crawling under a cart but Enrei was able to find him and dragged him out by his ankles with such a piteous look on his face everyone couldn't help but laugh.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 49):

The day's march unfolds without notable incident beyond the antics of the Company itself and its new members.

The merchant group are around a dozen strong, mostly young men and women that are either the children of or indentured to the merchants themselves.  The wares are nothing spectacularly interesting, mostly tools and cloth but also a mixture of wine from the south, a few weapons, books and other such.

The merchants are pleasant enough but maintain a formal distinction between their party and the hired swords of Flynn's.

When the sun is showing signs of setting, Flynn consults with the merchants and they agree on a place to stop for the night.  Lump is immediately dispatched to dig a latrine some distance downwind while the rest of the company put their hands to building a few cookfires and unloading what small tents they have.  The coming night is not cold, but anyone sleeping without a bedroll or tent might find it too much for comfort.

Once he's dropped the dirty shovel back into the cart with a clunk, Lump gets to work peeling potatoes and chopping onions for soup.  Elsa supervises the acquisition of water from a stream a mile to the north while the others either laze about or take a few turns with sticks and shields.  At this, Sir Tenpenny appears to shine.  It is clear that he has had a good deal of formal training.

Flynn supervises the whole operation while Jacob does his best to nap in a cart while nobody is looking.

In reply to GM (msg # 50):

It's two days at least to the junction, Flynn announces when Elsa's expedition returns.  Maybe three at the rate these toolmongers ride.  Then we can really get to work.  We're far enough from Haven now that tomorrow I'll send a few of you lads to the front to scout and leave a few to lag and watch our rear.  Get your rest.

When the company gather to eat and watch Titus (who it turns out is actually rather talented and he is able to net himself a pair of pennies, an apple and a few plums from the merchants), Flynn joins in the revelry and requests that Titus perform "Mun and the Ass" to riotous laughter.

When Titus and Enrei move off to talk, Flynn and the others crowd in tighter around the fires to talk, tell stories and boast.

It appears that Flynn is the only person who Turncoat Dan will not interrupt, though you suspect that if Elsa spoke he wouldn't interrupt her either.

Flynn is the first to turn in for the night.  I'm an early riser these days.  Once I get up to piss there's no going back unless there's something sweet in my bed waiting.

Elsa nominates herself for first watch and asks two volunteers to help.

(OOC:  When everyone beds down the game will advance, but there's no rush).

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 51):

I'll stay up.  I'm not tired anyway.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 52):

I've always liked first watch. I'll join you.

In reply to GM (msg # 50):

Enrei is happy to have someone interested in his culture and home, rather than just prejudiced against the stranger in a strange land, but Titus finds him less than capable as a teacher.  His grasp of the common tongue confounds his attempts to pass on his fluency in Chal'i, and his knowledge of other dances and performances are as accurate as the first he tried.  At fighting he was much more skilled but while he might've taught Titus a thing or two, he was no instructor.  Once his round with Titus was over, Enrei found his way to spectating the group of mercenaries going at each other with sticks.  He didn't ask to participate, but as they sparred he cheered like it was a sporting event, picking favorites from among the fighters to cheer for, even as Sir Twelvepenny proved the better fighter.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 54):

During the sparing, Brennan slips beside Enrei and speaks quietly with the huge man.


During first watch with Titus, he speaks quietly to the performing lordling, as well.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:24, Fri 26 Dec 2014.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 55):

In the wee hours of the morning, Flynn rouses himself from sleep.  After a trip to the makeshift privy, he relieves Elsa, Titus and Brennan and wakes two other mercenaries to keep watch with him.

Won't be hard marching, but rest up all the same, he comments.

The second day unfolds much as the first had.  Walking alongside slow but not lumbering carts with the merchants, swapping stories and stopping only to rest the horses and at the end of the day to make camp.

The only difference today is that Flynn assigns Elsa to scout out ahead of the caravan and has his company rotate between positions leading, with and lagging the wagons to keep an eye out for possible danger.

The only other souls you see on the road is a messenger on a swift horse bearing the King's banner who rides on past without a word.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 56):

Brennan begins to spend noticeably more time with Titus and Enrei, chatting easily with the pair of them and acting as an interpreter of sorts when words fail them. What he himself is getting out of the arrangement is unclear.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 57):

Its actually clearly obvious what Brennan is getting out of the arrangement as the three of them usually spend the day in uproarious laughter at the antics of Enrei and Titus.

Titus for his part will continue his attempts to learn the language and customs of the Chal'i islands.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 55):

Enrei is as happy to talk with Brennan as anyone, even though he frequently speaks while looking at the sparring match before them, unwilling to miss a good part in the name of polite conversation.


At the end of their conversation he give Brennan a hearty thump on the back, always happy to have new acquaintances.  The rest of the night he spent in poorer company.  With no bedroll, or tent, or apparently any worldly posessions he wasn't wearing Enrei's night was spent huddled against one of the wagons in a vain attempt to earn cover from the chill of the night as he slept.  Enrei was happy for both Brennan and Titus's company on the next day's journey as they helped ward away the cold and weariness that still hung on him.  He did his best to answer both of their qiestions about his home and his people, but even with Brennan playing translator it became clear he was not a scholar among the southern islanders.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 59):

Travel continues for the next few days as it had the previous two.   Your fellow mercenaries continue at the ambling pace set by the merchant's carts.  All are able to keep up easily with the exception of Lump who normally rides in the back of a wagon.  Jacob Larelle does his best to nap beside Lump whenever Flynn turns his head for a moment.

"He's lazy as a dead cat," Turncoat Dan comments idly.  "But he's like to be the most loyal man you'll know."

By day, the mercenaries take turns guarding the front and rear of the caravan.  Between these duties, the crew swap stories.  By fading light of evening, they spar or play at dice.  Lump's "onions 'n such" is broken up one night by the joyous slaughter of one of the goats Flynn traded for from the merchants.  Before bed, the men are entertained by Titus.

The merchants largely keep to themselves but are happy to talk.

Godrick Rogers, Lord Gent's money man, keeps little company as well.  In fact, the only people he seems to speak with at all are Flynn (though he makes clear he doesn't like to), Sir Twelvepenny, and Brennan for some reason.


The skies remain partly cloudy with only a few thin spittings of rain, making the walk tolerable enough if not overly exciting.  Finally, empty fields and flowers give way to crops and livestock.  Every few miles you pass a large farmhouse.  These are mostly daub and wattle affairs with thick straw roofs and thin chimneys letting out thin curls of smoke.  Where you see farmers at work they take little interest in you.

After a full eight days of travel, you come upon a fork in the road.  In the middle is a large house half of wood and half of stone with a thick straw roof.  It looks to be mostly stable and barn space, but it has smoke rising from two chimneys and a sign carved in the shape of a tankard hanging above its thick door.  A smiling maiden of around marrying age greets you all with an apron full of blueberries.  The merchants take their carts around the side and begin tending to their horses.

In reply to GM (msg # 60):

Before you ask, Flynn grumbles.  Yes I'll give any man here an advance pay against this month.  However, at daybreak we push on at full march and leave these toolmongers behind.  Any man who wants to play the role of Mun for the evening can walk with a banging head tomorrow for his troubles.

Flynn ducks to get through the low tavern door.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 61):

The front portion of the building turns out to be a rather spacious though cozy tavern.  The rest is stable and storage space as well as a few large rooms with straw mats to sleep on.  Flynn chats briefly with the stout woman in charge and arranges bedspace for the company and at supper time, chicken and vegetables baked into small pies are brought out accompanied by small cakes covered in honey.

The tavern has a large fireplace at one end and another in a small kitchen in one corner.  Near this are a sizeable stack of barrels containing wine and dark sweet beer.  Although it isn't overly chilly out yet, the room's warmth and the smell of food cooking are welcome indeed.

A few men and women occupy the tavern's long benches.  These are mostly local farmers who eagerly make space for Flynn's company for the chance to hear news from Haven and beyond.  Sitting in a group is a trio of fresh-faced young men wearing the King's sigil on newly spun tabbards.

There are only a few small windows, so most of the light comes from the fireplaces and a single large lantern in the middle of the main room.

The staff is a single large family, but for the father who seems to be absent.  The stout woman Flynn spoke to, it turns out, is mother to the two women who handle the cooking and serving.  There are also three sons of varying ages who handle lugging barrels in and out, hauling firewood, cleaning etc.  While her progeny scurry about and tend to their guests, the mother manages from her position beside a low doorway into the back rooms where the guest quarters are found.  All orders, requests and all coin go through her at some point.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:06, Mon 05 Jan 2015.

In reply to GM (msg # 62):

Titus immediately and unabashedly walks up to the bartender shouldering his lute significantly.

Do you have a need of live music and a performer for the evening?  I can sing, juggle, act, prestidigitation... anything the crowd may desire?

/ooc There is one special performance while we are on the road that I am going to write about later/ooc

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 63):

The daughter Titus chose to approach (naturally the more attractive of the two), has long dark wavy hair and large trusting eyes.

She smiles politely at Titus and casts a glance at her mother.

"We always welcome men with talent, please, perform as you will but do not block the kitchen or the ale else my mother will be wroth."

The lass raises one eyebrow.

"By chance do you know 'The Ballad of Min's Third Love'?  It's my favorite by far and I have not heard it in years.  Likely I could find you some brandy if you sing it sweetly."

In reply to GM (msg # 64):

During the trip to town

One night after eating Titus allows enough time to pass for the rest of the group to get curious about his nightly performance.  Finally when they started turning back to their he steps silently up onto the stage.  He gives Brennan a nod and a wink sighs heavily and composes himself.

He pulls up a chair and sits down in silence.  The group pulls in expectantly towards him.

He strikes a single chord and lets it resonate the sound sweet.  He then plays slowly and quietly.

What you hear and what you feel become intermixed


He plays the sound of a soft bed after a long days travel
The rustling of the pillow as you settle down
the heaviness of sleep claiming you

The song slows down to near nothingness... but then it becomes faster and more discordant

The coldness as the lover leaves your bed in the night
The silence of death
The desperate gnawing of hunger, and cold
The thrashing delirium of sickness
The smell of burning hair and blood
The cold eyes of death
The frightened isolation of a child alone in the world

Titus is beginning to sweat visibly at this point obviously pouring his heart into this performance

The glee of demons rapidly turns back into the theme of sleep

The audience is all leaning forward at this point straining to hear the music as he slowly plays.  His chest heaving he resumes with

the lullaby of a concerned mother.
bright white snow outside and fire inside
a full stomach
The smell of grass in spring
A cool breeze on a hot day
A two part harmony (adding vocalization) of mother and father singing by the campfire
idle time with those you love

all fading back into not only the music but also the words this time of an ancient lullaby written by Min himself.

Titus ends the song, visibly shaken.  The audience sits stunned and silent.  He gives a half smile to Brennan, nods and without a word or waiting for applause he immediately walks off into the forest.  He is not seen from for the rest of the night.

He will rejoin the group the next morning.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 65):

Back to current time

Mother?  I thought that was your sister.  He says using the line like a well used shoe.  He smiles charmingly at the mother.  Of course I know the ballad of Min's Third Love, one of my personal favorites.  I will sing it as sweetly as you like, though I could never sing as sweetly as you.

He winks at her.

What kind of crowd do you have here tonight?

Titus will watch the crowd to see what the general mood and tenor of the nights drinkers is.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:28, Mon 05 Jan 2015.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 66):

After making sure Enrei understands what's happening, Brennan sidles over to where the money collector is sitting, discussing whatever topics the man deems relevant or important until Titus's performance begins. After all, the man has undeniable talent.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 67):

"Oh but the good sir is a flatterer," the woman replies tot Titus, a flicker of blush appearing in her cheeks.

She gestures to the room.  "Men come and go as you see, we've mostly the usual lot plus you and your friends and Gregor the merchant you rode in with.  I expect others may come and go as the sun draws to set, but it may be you're what we have for company tonight."

She casts an evil eye toward the three young men in clean tabbards.  "Then there's that lot.  They've been here weeks and done nothing but drink and talk.  'Home Guard' they say.  More of a nuisance than a boon, no Ogres here that I know of... but they're here on the King's orders so..."

Across the room, Godrick the moneyman has found himself as close to a quiet dark corner as possible to hole up in.  He doesn't seem overly pleased to have company, but as it's Brennan he doesn't object outright.

"It will do me good to rest on something other than rocks," he sniffs.  "Though I'll be happier once I'm back in M'lord's castle.  Straw is too itchy for me."

In reply to GM (msg # 68):

Have they done anything other than strut around and look pretty?  Have they been harassing the townsfolk at all?

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 69):

"Pretty is not the word I'd've chosen, but I wasn't asked was I?"

The barmaid sighs.

"As to causing trouble, they've done little worse than make a lot of noise and drink too much, and they're never much for paying what's owed on time.  There's not a man here isn't sick of their stories either, though to hear them tell it they're the last bastion against the enemy or some such.  Strut they do but so far it hasn't come to blows.  My sister'd thank them to keep their hands to themselves I'd wager."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:08, Mon 05 Jan 2015.

In reply to GM (msg # 70):

Oh come now.

He says looking reproachful.

That one on the left has a... very...

He fumbles for words

Square head

He finishes lamely and smiles broadly

Any other interesting tidbits come through the inn lately?

In reply to GM (msg # 68):

"Indeed," Brennan says, sharing the man's sour look. "And no promise of proper bed for miles and miles. There's only so many ways to cope with that."

He waves over one of the maids and orders Godrick whatever drink he wants, along with the same for himself.

"This is one of them," he says with a grin. "To better times and safe travels."

With that, he raises his glass and leaves Godrick in peace. Instead, he settles against one of the walls and contemplates the guardsmen quietly.

Now what are they doing out here?
This message was last edited by the player at 20:33, Mon 05 Jan 2015.

In reply to GM (msg # 62):

Enrei recognizes the sign of a tavern, but Brennan's translation of Flynn's plan for the night does clear away his confusion.  Generally taverns signal the end of a voyage in his experience, and he had not collected any money yet.  He'd feared he was not as capable a mercenary as he hoped to be.

When the pies and cakes were brought out for dinner Enrei took his share and inexplicably plopped down at the same table across from the three men in the king's uniform.  He was immediately ignorant of their regard for him as he took a bite of the chicken pie, "You have very nice shirts," he offered, gesturing a bit too close with his fork, "You look very different from everyone else," he waved the utensil to ifdicate the rest of the tavern; the farmers' clothes understandably dirty and his own company clearly wearing their travels.  He took another bite and spoke through his full mouth, "How do you get these shirts?"

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 73):

(OOC:  Brennan, Enrei and Uldalf can take 3 pennies from Flynn as advance against pay if they wish)


Titus

The barmaid raises one eyebrow at Titus.  "You're the traveler and the one who claims to have a gift for song, you tell me.  Not much changes in these parts, but we do get to hear bits from further North.  Word is the fighting has grown more intense, that Ogres join the ranks of the traitor Xerxes, and that the plague to the south is his doing.  He communes with demons and worse, or so they say."

She cocks her head to one side and smiles.  "I also heard Lady Ursula is with child, though that's more like to be a lie.  I'd put coin on her giving birth to an icicle before a child."

Brennan

Godrick sniffs derisively but gratefully accepts an earthen cup of heavy wine.

"My thanks.  Once this unpleasant venture is through, mayhap you could accompany me to M'lord's castle.  It's possible we could find more gainful employment for you there."

Godrick toasts Brennan and is left to brood over his ledgers.


Enrei/Brennan

When Enrei sits down the three men in uniform are playing at dice.  They look up from their game and run their eyes over Enrei carefully.

"You ain't from around here is you?"  asks one with a particularly square head.  "Nah, I have you figured for an islander, one of those sun-baked Chal'i eh?"

His companions nod.

"Well then," square-head snorts.  "welcome to the mainland.  Don't suppose you're here for the women... maybe the sheep the way I hear it."

In reply to GM (msg # 74):

"Oh no, I am mercenary!" Enrei replies to the soldiers, the implication of their speaker lost in translation, "This man," he turns to sight Flynn and gestures toward him, "pays me food, and six pennies.  It is very good pay.  Are you here for sheep?"  He smiles encouragingly at the three, hoping to make friends by relating to their apparent hobby.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 75):

Titus hears the exclamation of mercenary from across the room and straightens perceptibly.

He favors the barmaid with a rueful smile.

I unexpectedly tarried for... too long in Haven to bring you much news except for the tales of clever orphans.

Now I fear I must save my friend before he gets skewered by your Kingsmen.

I will be here all night so I'll come back around

He gives her a wink a charming smile and takes her hand and briefly presses his lips to the back of it.

With a loud vocalization designed to captivate the entire house produces three juggling balls with a flourish and immediately takes over the room.

He proceeds to juggle three balls intentionally making it look difficult but eventually produces a fourth ball and proceeds to continue juggling while bouncing it off of wall from tables and from the ceiling.  All the while telling a cautionary tale of the "The theif and Mun."

He holds the audience in the palm of his hand laughing with his every jape.  He introduces the fifth ball as Mun and treats it as such throughout his performance calling it by name.  Finally the ball named Mun is causing so much trouble popping over his shoulder between his legs and bouncing off the ceiling that he drops them all with a flourish delivering the final punchline

AND THAT IS WHY YOU SHOULD PAY YOUR BILLS AND ALWAYS TIP YOUR WAITRESS!

He ramps for while he wanders over to the bar to pick up his hastily (but not clumsily) left lute.  He puts his lute case open and by the stage in the universal sign of 'fill me with money' and continues to play.  He shifts genre and tenor of story to match the crowd's mood.  Those of you who heard his tales of one-upsmanship with Turncoat Dan on the road you will recognize several of the tales of stories of himself.  This time told with full embellishments and occasional divine help; he of course never attributes them not to himself but rather 'A clever orphan'.

As the night winds down he does play the 'ballad of Min's third love' and sings it true and sweetly.

Not to leave the bar on a down note he then leads them in a long rendition of the Bear and the Maiden Fair.  A song that has been attributed to Min writing with his brother Mun, everyone knows at least a dozen verses and made a handful more.  He sang in style to allow patrons to add their own lyrics taking note of the good ones.

He ends with a flourish and bow and tromps over to the bar.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:52, Tue 06 Jan 2015.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 76):

Brennan attempts to juggle his attention between the Kingsmen, Titus's performance, and those who appear to enjoy positions of power: the matron of the tavern, Flynn, Godrick, and Elsa.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 77):

Titus succeeds admirably in gathering the attention of near everyone in the tavern.

While he juggles, sings and tells his tales, near all eyes are on him.  Brennan, and likely Titus himself, note that the only ones doing much else are the matron of the establishment and her family as they are busy cooking, cleaning and bringing out food and drink.  Flynn and Elsa pay some little attention, but primarily talk between themselves over a scrap of parchment that looks to be a map.  To Brennan's eye, they are planning routes or something along those lines.

Titus performs well, and even the young soldiers favor him with praise.  There is not terribly much coin to be had from farmers, but Titus is able to drink for free the entire night and is treated to such delicacies as brandy.

At some point soon after sundown, the small door is opened roughly and a small gaggle of men stagger in.

They are lead by a large man with a thick brown beard and a shiny bald head.  He wears a fine doublet and a long sword.


The doublet looks much the worse for wear, however, and is stained with dry blood on one side.  The man's leg is thoroughly lashed between two lengths of wood and he moves with a caution that indicates injury to both his leg and side.

He is attended by three men wearing plain boiled leather and carrying long daggers.

The wounded man makes his own way to one table while his company make arrangements with the matron for their horses and for food and lodgings.  They then sit together in a group at the end of the tavern furthest where Titus is performing and take a late meal.

In reply to GM (msg # 78):

Brennan makes his way over to Uldaf, who had been sitting quietly among the other patrons, and nods slightly in the direction of the newcomer.

"Depending on who they are and how they came to be in such straits -- and on how much wine you've consumed this evening, my friend -- you might be able to make a fair bit of coin patching that man up. He looks reasonably well-to-do, and like as not could benefit from a surgeon."

He smiles slightly.

"If there is coin to be had, however, I'd appreciate a finder's fee..."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:31, Tue 06 Jan 2015.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 79):

I didn't take ye for one possessed by the entrepreneurial spirit, lad. You're eyes are keen, but you've some work to do on your negotiating if you'll be obtaining any gratuity from my work.

Uldaf saunters confidently toward the man, scowling at the poor sots attempting to attend to his wounds.

Clumsy lasses. Are you trying to patch his wounds, or give him sepsis?Get out of my way and let a real healer tend to this.

Medicine [Fail]


Sorry lad. You're beyond my powers. The leg appears broken, and you've done all the triaging I could offer myself. If'n you're so inclined, I am a skilled amputator.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:24, Tue 06 Jan 2015.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 80):

After no small amount of scrutiny, the newcomer allows Uldaf to see under his tabbard.  A large gash runs between two ribs on his side, and is covered well enough with bandages but largely untreated.

Uldaf is able to sew up the wound well enough, which the man allows while taking a heady dose of wine for the pain.

"You have no meager skill with a needle," the man allows while watching Uldaf work.  "And I thank you for your aid.  There are scarce few men of any actual training near the fray, and I was lucky enough to find someone to do this much."

At Uldaf's next offer the man furrows his brow deeply, then grins, the first real expressions you've seen of him.

"You're a funny one too.  A surgeon with a sense of humor?  Who would believe such a thing?  No good man, I'll keep the leg, twas a gift from my mother y'see."

The man leans heavily on the wooden table and stands to meet Uldaf eye-to-eye.

"You have my thanks," he says, grasping Uldaf by the forearm.  "My name is Auren.  May that I could have yours?  If there is some token of gratitude I could offer, but ask it man."

In reply to GM (msg # 81):

It's been many moons since anyone called me a surgeon, but I'll take the compliment as offered.

You have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Uldaf Asbjorn, Bear of the Woods.

As for my services, I'd happily accept a warm meal and a cold ale to hear the tale of your injury. I travel the same roads as ye, and would know of what dangers and obstacles I may face. What you feel obligated to further share as compensation is between ye and yer maker.

Uldaf laughs heartily to himself, a self deprecating grin adorning his creased face

After all, you don't get to be my age by ignoring warning signs..

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 82):

"Aye," Auren replies with a smile.  "Well Uldaf, it is indeed a pleasure then.  I cannot say I've before met a bear, so my tale will be all the richer whence I'm back home.  If it's ale and stories you're wanting, there I can easily oblige."

Auren sits back down carefully, laying his bad leg out in an attempt to get comfortable.  He sends one of his attendants to fetch a pitcher of ale, which he places firmly between himself and Uldaf along with more sweet cakes hot off the fire.

"My tale is not long, but it is not without its intregue.  I am in the service of Lord Gent and even now make my way back to him.  I was dispatched some weeks ago along with several comrades and the company of Sir Blake the Bat."

Auren raises his arms and splays his fingers.  "A dire bat upon his crest, if you've seen it, you'd recognize it anywhere.  At any rate, we rode North toward Long Plain to join up there with his Majesty's other forces and push into the traitor's lands.

We didn't make it.  We were fallen upon in the night by several small companies of mounted infantry.  Their design was not familiar to me, but the Bat assured me they were mercenary riders under the sway of Xerxes.  They hit us hard but fled before we could fully mount and join battle.  It happened again the next night, and then again.

Sir Blake finally made the decision to split our forces, that some of us may reach Long Plain while others may report to the King that Xerxes has raiders within his borders.  Having already landed on my leg while being unhorsed, I rode south."

Auren drains the contents of his cup and wipes foam from his thick beard.  "But we didn't escape them and we were fallen upon by night once more.  I was ready THIS time, I was, but there were too many and I was in no shape to ride."

He gestures to the blood caked on his shirt.  "A spear, would have caught me in the heart had I not turned just so.  Through maille and just a bounce off the ribs it was.  What providence caused me to turn at that moment?"  Auren raises his eyebrows dramatically as he re-fills his cup.  "Why it just so happens that I had to twist to pull the whole length of my sword out of one of their chests.  Went in the damned fool so deep that I got blood on my crossguard.  Anyhow, as I yanked back the spear caught me.  I lived, the man I ran through died and the spear-chucker vanished into the dark.  From there we've been limping our way to m'lord's hall to report and heal."

Auren sighs and relaxes into the bench as much as possible.

"So there you have it.  I may not be much for embellishment and tale-telling and whatnot, but that's how it went."

In reply to GM (msg # 83):

Titus takes note of the conversation listening with half an ear while playfully teasing the young barmaid; heavily insinuating that after a few nights on the road a warm bed and some company would not go amiss (insert Alveris comment here).  He makes no promise or insinuation that he will tarry in the town any longer than his party.

Its good to finally have the road under my feet, I have been stuck in haven for the last four years. 

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 84):

Uldaf listens to the tale with a surprising degree of attention.

The raiders have grown even more bold since I left the cave and ended watch of the northern tundra. It's as I feared..

A story well told. I too find myself in the service of Lord Gent on the northern road. Your tale of raiders and bravery rings true and concerns me. It was the same raiders that drove me south from my home in the mountains of Losthelm. Their aggression and their coordination do not portend smooth sailing for my caravan.

I would not assume to share yer tale of valor, but would you be willing to speak with the Captain of our band of men? He would hear your tale and perhaps adjust our travel accordingly.

At the least, I'll learn something about the man and how he reacts to impending danger. Will he roar like a bear or hibernate like a cub?

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 85):

"Aye," Auren replies.  "I'll speak with any man who has ears and sense enough to listen."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:05, Thu 08 Jan 2015.

In reply to GM (msg # 86):

As it turns out, Flynn is just finishing with Elsa and is enjoying Titus' song before turning in for the night.

When Uldaf first comes to fetch him he does not look terribly interested but agrees to listen to Auren.

As the wounded warrior tells his tale again, and true to his word not doing an overly exciting job of it, Flynn nods slowly.

Thank you, friend.  This is indeed helpful.  If I had my way I wouldn't head further north, but a man has to make his pay somewhere and danger is our stock and trade.  When you make it to Lord Gent, you can tell him you passed me on your way and that I will continue with my contract.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 87):

Fair travels Master Auren.

Uldaf parts ways with the beleaguered traveler, following Flynn back to his table.

I've heard many a tales of fancy in my day, and while I'm sure some jewels dazzle in the tale we heard, I am concerned about the prospect of organized raiders to the North. What say you?

Any man with good sense would minimally suggest tactical revisions to our marching orders, and perhaps consider procurement of portable fortifications around our basecamp. Gods know I won't run from a fight, but I see no need to run toward being trampled either.

Perhaps there are supplementary forces we can rendezvous with prior to continuing toward the mountains?

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 88):

Flynn nods at Uldaf but makes no comment as to what his tactical intentions are.

Leave that to me, is all he says.

Flynn stands and stretches, then addresses the tavern in a voice just loud enough to be heard by all of his men but not loud enough to impose.

We leave just after sun-up.

With that, the big man stomps toward the privy and ultimately to hit the (literal) hay.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 89):

Elsa remains seated and watches Flynn leave.  A couple of the company follow suit, including the Katenses, but most stay up to drink, talk, gamble and watch Titus.  In particular, Turncoat Dan is faced with an entirely new audience who haven't yet heard his tales of debauchery, treachery and adventure.

Sir Twelvepenny makes his way to the back of the room and sits to chat with Godrick.

Jacob sets up a game of dice near the fire and is soon several pennies ahead of the poor farmers who remain.

Apparently tiring of Titus, the trio of young soldiers make their way over the Auren's table and, with much hooting and clapping of shoulders, sit down and fall into loud discussion about weapons, war, ogres and the like.

For some time, the tavern is a somewhat loud but pleasant place.  The smell of smoke, meat, beer and unwashed men blend together into a certain homey-ness that is both comforting and envigorating.

This mood shifts when voices begin to get raised at the table where Auren's company and the young soldiers sit.

"Now why would you say that?" square-head demands loudly, leaning forward to get into Auren's space.

The bearded warrior does not flinch.  Deliberately he continues to light his pipe and take a long draw before responding.

"Lad," he replies at last.  "Your disposition is unbecoming.  Roger here was merely pointing out the truth."

"Aye," the man named Roger nods. "You've like had not enough combat and too much to drink."

"I can hold my beer," square-head snarls.  "Better'n you can hold your tongue.  Unbecoming?  It's unbecoming to disrespect an agent of the King."  He points to the heraldry on his surcoat, just in case anyone hadn't noticed it.

"That doesn't a seasoned soldier make," Auren replies calmly.  "Mayhap in time you will see combat and only then will your boasts be backed by deeds."

"Aye," Roger snickers.  "Until then, guard our cows well."

Square-head and his companions are bright red at this point, but apparently think of very little to say.

They leave the table in a huff and make their way to the wine.  Auren and his followers fall back into pleasant conversation as if the matter were closed, and for a minute or two it seems as if it is.

"And you?  Islander!"  Square-head yells at Enrei from across the tavern.  "Mercenary?"  He spits on the floor.  "How does it feel to charge gold for what others do out of duty?"

In reply to GM (msg # 90):

This will escalate quickly... especially if Enrei decides the man needs a hug.

"Come now, sir. The girls will have to clean that up,," Brennan says in what he desperately hopes to be a calming voice. "On the islands, perhaps it is an honor to be deemed fit for mercenary work. I imagine that it's a celebration of strength and courage (he uses the Chal'i words for these concepts) , much as your position as an agent of the king, good sir, celebrates the same."

He smiles reassuringly.

"Now then, how about we all sit back, relax, and reflect upon our good fortune. A warm, dry place to sit, eat, drink, and laugh, and not an ogre in sight."

Brennan raises his glass.

"That's something I'll toast to, anyway. To Lord Gent, to the King, to those who've fought to keep us safe -- and to those who, one day, will."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:18, Fri 09 Jan 2015.

In reply to GM (msg # 90):

When the voices raise at Auren's table, Enrei stands, parting from Turncoat Dan's story.  The argument doesn't end as he expected, but he's glad to see the young man approach him.  As Brennan intercepts, attempting to diffuse the young man, Enrei looks at him confused, "No, we do not have mercenary in Chal'i.  I am first mercenary I know!" he pauses, "No, Jacob is first mercenary I know.  I am first mercenary from Chal'i I know.  It is very fun job, but I do not charge money out of duty," he turns back to the disgruntled king's man, "We are collecting money."

As Brennan offers his toast, Enrei latches on to less than his full meaning before raising a glass, "Yes, to fighting!" he cheers with a broad smile.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 92):

Brennan searches his mind for a Chal'i word that means 'mercenary' and, realizing that there is none, simply smiles and waits to see if the others will take up the toast.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 93):

"Aye to fighting," the smallest of the youths notes, taking a drink.  From the look of him, he's not a day over fourteen, fresh-faced and pimply.

"But fighting who!?" square-head pushes on.  "I'll warrent... maybe Roger is right... maybe we haven't stared into the gaping maw of some Ogre... but when the time comes, we'll all gladly do it for King and Kingdom, no questions asked.  You."  He points at Enrei.  "What do you stand for?  You say you collect gold?  Well Xerxes has gold too.  Fighting?  If all you care is to fight, how do I know which side you'll be on tomorrow, or the next day?"

"Especially a Chal'i," the tallest of the trio points out.  This one is likely the oldest, with long stringy hair and a fat nose.  "For those damned cakes of yours I should hate you.  I've left better tasting loaves in the privy."

Square-head and pimples join in laughing at Enrei.

In reply to GM (msg # 94):

Enrei frowns, thoroughly confused, "I do not have cakes," he looks around, making sure there was nothing more of dinner he'd missed.  As he looks he answers the square's question, "I have fight many people.  It is very fun, I am very good at fighting.  All the time, in these places, 'taverns' are men, they try to fight me, but they are not as good, and they are very angry and rude." He shakes his head in dissappontment, "They do not laugh this much," he gestures at the three. " Also, one time, I punched a shark!" he remarks excitedly.  After a pause something seems to occur to him, "Would you like to fight with me?" he looks across all three of them smiling broadly like he just invited them to a game.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 95):

Brennan, seeing the matter has now spiraled beyond his abilities to control, quietly sips from his glass.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 95):

If hubris were currency, we'd be drowning in gold.

Uldaf takes a step back from the impending fracas, Yggy resting across his lap as he sips his ale.

Of course, there's never any harm in a controlled  burn..

I wouldn't even give odds unless at least 3 of ye were opposing Enrei.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 97):

"looks t' be all brawn and no brains," square-head retorts.

"Aye, any one of us could dance circles around him," the tall one adds.

Pimples crosses his arms and does his best to look menacing, but is clearly the drunkest of the three.

In reply to GM (msg # 98):

"Just so we're clear," Brennan interjects, glancing meaningfully at Auren, the Kingsmen, and Godrick. "If there's to be a fight, Enrei here has publicly asked you if that's something you want. You have publicly accepted it, and have thus dismissed your usual protection in the eyes of the law."

He makes an apologetic gesture.

"I'm only clarifying in case you're planning on spinning some asinine tale involving assault and battery after Enrei twists your elbows into your knee sockets. I've seen him do it. Uldaf's a skilled healer, and all he could fix for that poor man afterward was a drink."

Brennan glances at the largest of the Kingsmen as though lost in thought.

"Come to think of it, he was only a little bigger than yourself."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:26, Fri 09 Jan 2015.

In reply to GM (msg # 98):

"No, I am not good at dancing," Enrei remarks at the tall member of the band, "Titus!  He will dance," he gestures toward the bard, "I have taught him."

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 100):

While everyone else talks, the pimply one in the group is slowly sneaking backward toward the door.  When Brennan notes Auren and Godrick's presence, his eyes go wide.

"Nothin to be gained fighting," he mumbles to his friends.

"What are you, now?"  square-head turns to Brennan, "Some sort of sheriff?"

"What he's meaning," the tall one interjects, eyeing Brennan suspiciously, "is we're just having a little fun... right?  A little fun with our island friend."

"Half braindead I'd wager," square-head pushes on.  "AND here takin' our gold to do a job any man would do as a matter of right..."  The tall one's hand on his shoulder temper's his tone somewhat.

"A quick bout maybe," he suggests, stepping between Enrei and square-head.  "Friendly-like, yes?"

"Aye," square-head nods, stepping up toe-to-toe and eye-to-chest with Enrei.

In reply to GM (msg # 101):

"Yes, we will be very good friends, and have very good fight, thank you!" Enrei cheers as the two step up to him.  He raises his arms and balls his fists, slipping into a lazy fighting stance.  As the two smaller men stiffen for a fight he leans forward and before his new friends can raise their guard for the oncoming punch he lifts his foot and stomps down on square-head's knee at an angle that twists it unnaturally.

((body + martial arts, martial bonus to drop hit location from 4 to 2, 3x6 unarmed attack 4,7,2,6,6,3,3,8,6,9))

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 102):

"Friendly-like," Brennan agrees, stepping back to watch the show. "That's all I need to know."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 103):

"Wait," the tall one starts, "we don't want to fight in he--"

There's a popping sound as Enrei easily kicks out Square-head's leg from under him.  Neither man had the time to prepare (3 Killing L. leg).  Square-head yells out and collapses to the ground.

"You great big idiot!" the tall one shouts!

Round 2

Despite not intending to fight in the bar itself, the tall one is going to take a swing at Enrei.

You cannot tell what Square-head is planning.

Pimples looks like he's about to run.

Brennan/Uldaf/Titus are standing back from the fight, but close enough to engage this round if they so chose.

(OOC:  Here we go, a mass fight!  Each PC should post his action and any associated rolls.  You can post "stay still", "hold back", "pass" or whatever else if you'd like.  If you do something, please make sure to specify target, initiative modifiers, etc.)

In reply to GM (msg # 104):

Brennan says something to Enrei, but the only word you understand is "Enrei."


OOC: Pass, and stay out of the way. Unless I'm physically threatened OR I judge that someone not currently (willingly) fighting is about to dealt lethal damage OR if fire of any sort is about to be employed... because, seriously, we need to sleep here.

OR, I guess, if someone who outranks me in the mercenary company gives me an order.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:12, Fri 09 Jan 2015.

In reply to GM (msg # 104):



"You are great too," Enrei contributes to the banter as he steps over square-head to his taller opponent.  He thrusts one arm forward toward his face, but rather than a blow to break the man's nose, Enrei opens his grip and wraps his fingers around the young man's face.  Hauling back, he throws the man to the ground, face first.

((3x9 using martial bonus to toss tall to the ground.  10,1,5,6,10,4,9,9,9,3))

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 106):

What have I signed up for?

A bull in a Lord's china closet and a jester waving a red flag in front of his eyes.

"Gentlemen, if you wanted to see me stitch a leg, you should have watched the first time.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 107):

Titus cringes as he hears the raised voices.  His wits are slightly addled from the drinks passed to him by those fighting and he doesn't intervene quickly enough to move them outside.  He tosses a rueful look at the serving girl who stares in horror at the damage about to be wrought to her inn.

Titus leans against the bar and looks over at pimples.

You haven't heard many tales of the Chal'i boy.  You are standing in the danger zone... They are far more durable than you or I and fights that they will laugh about and drink later will result in a broken knee, cracked ribs and a head injury for us.  I strongly recommend you vacate.

Act+Command (pair of 2's) to intimidate.

The piteous moaning of his friend with the injured knee seems to back him up.

Titus' hand goes to one of the pockets in his cloak and finger his makeshift dagger.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:46, Fri 09 Jan 2015.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 108):

City folk..

The fancy lass has the right of it. There's proving your mettle, and there's foolishly inviting a beating. Ye started this fight with the best intentions of the former, and are rapidly declining into the bloody stages of the latter.

Swallow your blood and your pride and walk away boys.

Psychology [2x3]

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 109):

Moving with a speed none expected, the tall one cracks Enrei square in the jaw with a well-placed jab (5 shock to Enrei's head, 1 die is dropped from his set but since he still has 2 matching dice left his attack goes through).

Apparently, it takes some time for the big islander to process the thought of being hit, as he successfully grabs the tall one by the face and flips him to the ground.  He then gets a queer look on his face as he finally registers the damage done to his jaw.

There is a lot of talk and shouting from the others in the crowd, including Titus and Uldaf.

Somewhere in the frenzy, pimples takes heed of the warnings being thrown and backs through a door and then turns and bolts.

On the floor, square-head yanks a short knife from his belt and slashes at Enrei, though he's too slow to catch the big man.

(OOC:  tall guy rolled a 4x10 to the head... amazing).

Damage:
Square-head is down and has 3 killing to leg
Tall guy is down
Enrei has 5 shock to head

Round 3

Square-head looks as if he'll continue to attempt something underhanded.  You cannot tell what tall guy is about to do.

In reply to GM (msg # 110):

"No.  This is not fair," Enrei states as he sees the knife come out, the glint of the blade easy to pick out as his vision spins from the well aimed blow to his head.  His tone is like a parent scolding a child for eating candy before dinner as he turns and looks down on square-head.  He places his foot on the would-be soldier's chest and with him temporarily immobilized, simply smacks the knife away.

((using my martial bonus to disarm without a called shot, 3x10 hopefully beats his body stat, or I'm in over my head.  8,7,6,10,4,4,3,5,10,10))

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 111):

"Drop the dagger, man. I promise it's not worth the consequences."

Brennan sighs and looks around for allies from the mercenary company.

"Will someone go get Flynn before this gets entirely out of hand? I'd go myself, but someone needs to be able to talk to Enrei if he gets hit so hard he forgets how to speak common."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:46, Mon 12 Jan 2015.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 112):

We will do no such thing. If this group is so undisciplined that a simple stop at a tavern results in an arrest, the group will be  all the better for the parties lost.

It takes discipline to survive in times like these lad, and ye cannot go crying to Dad every time real life happens.

Ye cracked the eggs boy. Now make me an omelette.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 113):

"I am trying," Brennan hisses, narrowing his eyes at Uldaf, "to save lives in what is obviously a misunderstanding between drunken men and a stranger from a far-off land with different customs. I didn't start anything, and Enrei doesn't understand what's at stake."

He makes a fist, then extends a finger to jab furiously at the brawl nearby.

"So yes, damn it, we're going to try to get this sorted out before the islander is killed or kills anyone, because once that happens, the lot of us -- Flynn included -- are going to be dragged to court to explain why in the twisted depths of the dream we didn't do more to prevent those things from happening. And that benefits exactly NONE of us."

Brennan looks around for help and, finding none, leaves to find Flynn himself.

OOC: I did nothing to start this, but that's twice Uldaf's implied that I did. If that's intentional, so be it, but if it's not I wanted to clarify that.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:55, Mon 12 Jan 2015.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 114):

Are ye done flapping yer gums laddie? Good. Now let's try something actionable.

Uldaf reaches into his back, pulling out a mason jar sealed with a liquid radiating light oscillating between hues of red, yellow, and orange. Uldaf makes his way to the door to the inn, placing himself between it and any who wish to leave or enter. With a tap of Yggy on the floor, Uldaf commands the room's attention.

Even the bear knows the reality of mutually assured destruction and hibernates during the coldest months of the winter. Time to remind them pride is not the only thing on the line here..

How many of you drunk pups have ever seen a liquid like this before? Guessing that in your embrace of the drink you've departed from an understanding of basic alchemy, I'll be happy to elaborate further.

Uldaf slowly spins, allowing the inn to see the jar in his hands.

This is alchemist's fire- a highly potent explosive which needs no kindling to impart its kiss on the lot of you. Were I to marry this jar to the fireplace, you'd all be roasting before you'd even be able to shout. Given that I'm standing closest to the door, and have a clear shot to the fireplace, I see ye as having 2 options.

You can all drop your weapons, walk to opposite sides of the inn, take a deep breath, and not have to consider whether you wasted your last waking moments in this world grasping at the false trappings of your pride, or


Uldaf again raises the jar high for all to see

You can all roast and I can ride north alone. It's your choice lads, but I'd make it quickly.

[Psychology 2x8]

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 115):

Brennan, having run to fetch Flynn, may or may not be aware of this (GM?)

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 116):

(OOC:  @ Uldaf: Again, this is Intimidation, not psychology)

Enrei quickly hops onto one foot and kicks the knife out of square-head's hand before he has time to stab anyone.

The tall one kicks over to the wall furthest Enrei and climbs quickly to his feet.

At this point Uldaf gives his ultimatum, and somewhere between insulting the soldiers and threatening to kill everyone in the tavern, the message sinks in.

The tall one raises his hands to show that he yields, while his companion on the floor does the same, then puts his hand to hold his injured leg.

END COMBAT

Half of all Shock vanishes, unless you have Resilient,

The pimpled boy is already fled, leaving the tall one to help his friend up from the floor.  Brennan is just getting to the door when the fight ends.

"You, crazy old man!" the barmaid yells as she picks up the various cups that were knocked down the the scuffle.  "Get that shit OUT of this tavern!"

The rest of the patrons appear to agree.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:32, Mon 12 Jan 2015.

Uldaf's ultimatum sails cleanly over Enrei's head, most of what he says being beyond foreign and the glowing jar, while impressive, seems hardly threatening.  Then everyone throws their hands up and stops fighting, "What is this?" Enrei questions his two opponents, mimicking their arm raising, "You are not hurt very much, we can still fight."  He points at the tall one, "You. You are good at fighting."

When the barmaid shouts at Uldaf, Enrei looks between the two, "What did old man do?"  His eyes go wide and he looks at Uldaf, "What did you say to them?  You tell me with small words!"

In reply to GM (msg # 117):

Sure sure, blame the pragmatist who diffused the situation without any further violence.

I'll be on my way. I'm sure the bill will account for itself.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 119):

Brennan pauses at the door, sighs, and returns to his seat.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 120):

Titus facepalms...

Crazy asshole.  What have we signed up for?

He stalks over to the two kingsman

You offered to fight then you bring out a knife?  Seriously?  I mean...

Frustrated gesture

ARGH! Couldn't you have done it outside at least?!  This.  This is why we can't have nice things.  Now look you two can play at which one of you is Mun and which is the ass all you like but at least don't go tearing up this nice tavern. 

He kicks over a chair.  Then looks at the barmaid and picks it up again abashed.

He turns his ire on Enrei but it abates when he sees the big man's smile.  He pats him affectionately on the shoulder.

You and I... are going to work on some things. 

He goes back to the bar and gives the barmaid his best smile.  She simultaneously turns her nose up and back to him.  The perfect heir of petulance.  Getting the hint he helps clean the barroom in silence.

Enrei is, for once, not smiling.  Rather he is thoroughly confused, "Why do you stop fighting?  Everyone is so angry now." Square-head tersely explains that Uldaf threatened to burn down the tavern, and Enrei's jaw drops, "What? No!  This is terrible.  I am so sorry.  You cannot fight now," he gestures to the injured leg, "This is not fair.  Please, sit, let me make up."

He walks to the barmaid picking up the cups and reaches into one of the pockets on his vest, "I would like drinks for my friends.  I have this much to pay, what is cost?" he holds out eight pennies in his hand toward her.

Once he has treated the next round he hurries to where the knife landed and picks it up, returning it to its owner, looking incredibly apologetic the entire time"Please, drink.  I will talk to the rude man." Before they can reply, he runs after Uldaf.  "You, Uldaf!" he shouts once he is out the door, "Why do you want fire in this place?  You stop very good fight."

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 122):

The tall soldier helps his injured friend over to a table, where he does his best to sit without moving his injured leg.  The two talk in low voices.

As soon as Uldaf either leaves or puts away the chemicals, the barmaids will stop shouting at him.

The crowd was already starting to thin out as the locals walk or stumble back toward their homes. At this point Elsa, who didn't move much when the fight broke out, stands to give everyone in Flynn's company a knowing look, and then marches toward bed.

Turncoat Dan, Harma and Halfdead remain gambling and talking, but most of the rest of the company are heading toward sleep as well.  Auren's followers follow suit, but the big warrior remains awake before the fire for a little while.

(OOC:  Day is winding down, so let me know when you're done for the night and I'll move on.)

In reply to GM (msg # 123):

Because sometimes lad, there's more to a fight than being right.

Strong as an ox and twice as simple. He'll be dangerous without guidance.

Uldaf's going to make his way to whatever passed for the woods out of town and make camp outside. He'll be waiting outside the Inn in the morning.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 124):

Titus tries to get back into Elsa's good graces by cleaning some of the mess but it is obvious she is having none of it.  At some point you casually hear

Are you guys baking sourdough?  No?  Oh thats just you then?

A loud crack follows this comment.

Its nothing to be ashamed of a little pH imbalance is only natural.

Titus goes outside and paces for a while.  As he sees Enrei coming back he tries to explain to him what happened.  Though its clear that the islander still does not get it.

Eventually he gives up and goes back to bed.

Uldaf's reply makes no sense to Enrei, being right had little to do with a fight at any time as far as he was concerned, and burning taverns down had even less to do with being right.  As Uldaf leaves before awaiting a reply he shouts after the old man, "I have hurt my friend for no reason.  That is not being right!  It is not good to take away a reason."

He returns to the inn, not one to force a conversation.  Titus tries to explain what happened, but his account of events don't seem to line up with Enrei's own.  Talk about fighting outside, and killing with a knife, it's all nonsense.

Once Titus gives up on his explanation, Enrei approaches the soldiers and his smile returns, "I am very sorry.  He does not understand.  When your leg is not hurt, then we will have another fight.  It will be better." he pats the injured one on his good leg and, noting that most of the inn has called it a night, goes to find his own bed.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 126):

Square-head mutters some things that make even less sense to Enrei, especially since slang and the specifics of body-parts and prepositions are difficult to translate.  The tall one, however, appears to be satisfied.

In reply to GM (msg # 127):

"Where the devil do you get off with that attitude?" Brennan chases after Elsa, risking her ire heedlessly. "Is that how things are in this company? It's not your problem until it's over, and then an air of superiority and perhaps a hint of discipline to come?"

He narrows his eyes.

"You were here. You could have done something -- like issuing an order to stand down, perhaps; Enrei likes his job and would probably have obeyed -- and you didn't. If you don't like what went down here, you had the power to change it. Unlike the rest of us, who had no hierarchical power but did what we could to keep everyone's heads on their shoulders. So keep your withering looks to yourself."

He'll allow her to give a brief reply (which he anticipates will be catty, defensive, or otherwise unworthy of her station), and then heads off to find a bed for himself.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 128):

Elsa spins around and puts her face directly into Brennan's, as usual allowing her presence to do most of the talking.

"Petty bar fights aren't my problem.  If it came to it, I'd've stepped in to end it."  It's clear from the way she says this that 'ending' does not imply talk.

"Figured he could take care of himself.  If not, he's no use alive or dead."

Elsa turns to leave, but pauses in the doorway and turns halfway so that Brennan can only see her in profile.

"You're a loyal one.  Good start.  As long as Enrei and Uldaf make good by morning, I won't tell Flynn about any of this."

She vanishes into the darkened back room.

In reply to GM (msg # 129):

If your senses are sharp you can hear a frightened yelp from Titus outside.  Several minutes later he comes back all of his color drained and his usually expressive face blank.  Without a word he tromps over to bed and spends a restless night sleep.  If you are a light sleeper he will wake you up several with inarticulate talking and yelps in the night.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 130):

"If you do that one more time," Khan the Low hisses in Titus' ear the third time he's kicked, "I'll cut off your cock and feed it to you."

The night passes otherwise uneventfully both in and outside of the Tavern.

Light sleepers are roused when Flynn gets up for his morning routine.  Heavier sleepers receive a gentle nudge from Elsa's boot shortly thereafter.  Very heavy sleepers are upgraded to a heavy kick to the side.

Only the Matron is awake at first light, and it appears that Turncoat Dan never actually made it to bed.  You find him snoozing on a bench beside Auren, who fell asleep sitting up before the fireplace.

The Matron of the tavern provides some stale bread dipped in cooking grease, cheese and some hot ground meal to those who want it.

By the time the sun is fully on the horizon, Flynn has the wagons formed up outside and begun the march.

A few minutes later, Jacob Larelle comes huffing up behind.

"Damn you all to the dream of Hell... overachievers!" he gets out between breaths.

In reply to GM (msg # 131):

Brennan is pleasantly surprised to find no knives in his ribs upon awakening, and is pleased to continue the march.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 132):

As the wagons reach the edge of town, a chipper Uldaf awaits by the side of the road.

I've never much been one for the trappings of fancy inns and beds when there's a perfectly clear night sky to sleep under.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 133):

What did I do?

He asks plaintively holding his ribs.

Enrei sleeps through Titus's night terrors but is roused easy enough to spare Elsa the need to kick him and risk his half-concious wrath.  Once the band is back on the road, he cheers Jacob on as he hurries to catch the wagons, the misunderstandings of the past night clearly not weighing on him.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 135):

"There's been some talk of nightmares," Brennan says to Titus as they walk. "But it's not as if you've been up caterwauling all night while we were on the road. Apart from an allergy to a nice, warm bed, I can't make heads or tails of it."

He walks in silence for a little while, then smiles at the bard.

"As it happens, I consider myself an expert on dreams. If you ever feel like talking about them, I might be able to help."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 136):

(OOC:  feel free to continue your conversations as you walk, they can be concurrent with this update)

True to Flynn's word, the pace is far quicker now that you have parted ways with the merchants.

Flynn leads the company along the smaller of the two roads forking away from Haven and the tavern.  For the first day, the scenery is much as what you had been seeing, large expanses of naught but farm, cows and farmhouses.  There is somewhat more company on the road now, though it is all poor farmers leading cows or wagons full of feed or crops.  Many actively avoid crossing paths with the mercenary band and more keep their heads down.

"Afraid we'll steal their daughters and eat their crops," Turncoat Dan laughs.  "Like as not, the daughters would steal themselves if they saw us."

"They're indeed afraid," Sir Twelvepenny retorts in his slow drawl.  "What can war offer them but misery?"

The joking and talk continue as it had, though most of the mercenaries give Uldaf a wider berth than before.  Godrick continues to be sullen and silent, Turncoat Dan to be boisterous, Elsa to be fridgid, and Jacob to be wiley.

The mountains loom in the distance as they had been, but after a day of marching you realize that what you have been seeing as the mountains are but the tallest of the peaks and that sloping hills and smaller juts of rock begin far in advance of the larger mountains.

On the third day the goat is slaughtered at supper and the ground has become rocky.  Where there are fences around fields, log-tie give way to stone.

By the fifth day of walking, there are no more farms to be seen, just rolling hills, rocky outcroppings, piles of boulders and here and there a long-tailed deer, which Elsa and Brennan are able to bring down for supper.

It is near mid-day then that the company comes to a junction larger than the small goat-trails that you've crossed prior.  This one even has a signpost, though the words are too faded to read.

Here you stop to rest while Flynn and Elsa consult their map and talk in low voices.

In reply to GM (msg # 137):

It's good to be headed toward home, and to have some earth under my feet. The wide berth from the group isn't bad either. I've no reason to trust em, and them none to trust me. The world could do with a little more solitude and skepticism if ye ask me.

With a smirk on his face and a playful tone in his voice, Uldaf offers support to Flynn and Elsa.

I'm somewhat familiar with these parts if yer looking for directions. Of course, I'd be just as happy to continue the nature hike all the same.

In reply to GM (msg # 137):

Titus is not his usual chatty self...

What do you know about the Wandering Haunts?

/ooc: Edited to correct name /ooc
This message was last edited by the player at 18:27, Thu 15 Jan 2015.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 139):

It would be a fantastic name for an inn in any number of lumber towns.

Uldaf laughs heartily, clearly more appreciative of his own humor than the others.

In all seriousness lady lad, I've never heard of it. What makes ye ask and what do ye know of it?

"Oh, oh!  I know this," Enrei volunteers at Titus's question, "There are three," he stares at his fingers a moment before holding up three to illustrate.  Then there is a stretch of silence before everyone realizes this is the breadth of his knowledge.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 141):

Brennan nods, smiling at Enrei in the process.

"Yes, there are three: a demon, an angel, and... something else. They travel around the world and the dreams, and are said to know things they should not. Things about the future and about the past. They are said to be present at vastly important moments in history... or, in some versions of the story, to cause those moments themselves."

He scratches his chin absently.

"Those stories always confused me, because although the three are said to travel and work together, they do not seem to know each other or even acknowledge each other's existence. Some claim they do this out of spite, others as a punishment from God... but this is folly."

"If you ask me -- and, recall, you did -- the truth is this: the do not know each other because they occupy the same space, so to speak, in three separate versions of the dream, and thus are not truly aware of each other. It is ignorance, and nothing more sinister than that."

"And that's where philosophy leaves us and religion picks up: the Wandering Haunts are a key signifier that the three dreams are, in fact, a single unified existence."

His expression darkens somewhat.

"It is also said, quite convincingly, that the Wandering Haunts aren't wandering at all. They are hunting, and they are doing so in all three aspects of the unified dream simultaneously. Nothing can escape them for long."

Brennan smiles again.

"Fortunately, they only concern themselves with folks who have committed terrible, terrible acts. Things so sinful that all three aspects of the unified dream -- aspects you might refer to as Heaven, Hell, and the Original Dream -- have cast them out."

"I can't imagine what it would take to be branded a sinner by all three at the same time."

He takes a breath and pauses as though to tell more, then remembers his audience and leaves well enough alone.

"I don't need to bore you with the more eccentric bits of lore associated with them, and I don't mean to lecture... but it is simply fascinating, isn't it?"

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 142):

Aye, indeed. What other audiobooks do you have on file in the library lad?

Perhaps something regarding the topography of our current area?

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 143):

Titus sighs as if a weight was put on him with Brennan's words.

Yeah, already knew that.  I just keep dreaming about them and wonder if anyone knows anything else.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 144):

"How often," Brennan says quietly. "Would you say you dream about them? And is it often all three, or does one stand out more to you than the rest?"

He clears his throat gently.

"Recall that these beings live apart from us, where future, past, and present are all muddled up in a big block of time. They hunt not only those who have sinned... but those who one day will."

Brennan turns to Uldaf for a moment.

"Was that succinct enough for you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:13, Fri 16 Jan 2015.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 145):

Flynn looks up from his map with one eyebrow raised.

You're familiar with these parts are you? He asks of Uldaf.  That may serve us well.  The only other person here who'se been further into these lands is Godrick. 

He waves Uldaf over to the small group of himself, Godrick and Elsa.

So surgeon, how well do you know these stones?

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 146):

They're hard as rock and half as useful.

I don't recognize the writing, but the lay of this land? This is my backyard. I'd be hardpressed to draw a map, but I can move amongst the towns that litter these hills as I please.

That is, if ye find yerself inclined to explain exactly where you think we're going.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 147):

Nothing hidden, friend, if that's what you mean, Flynn says with a wry smile.  But most would say it makes no matter so long as we do our job.  That being said,

Flynn and Elsa slide apart to make room for Uldaf.

Where we're going, is everywhere, more than less.  Each of these townships owe back taxes, but most are so poor as it makes little sense to collect on any regular basis.  We'll sweep along the base of the mountains moving north, then move into the seat of the mountains and sweep back down south.

Flynn points where you are on the map and then points to a dot nearby.

This is maybe the largest town in the region, Staghead it's called, and it might be that we can save ourselves some time by... 'convincing' them to pay on behalf of the smaller towns and collect the difference themselves.  Duty to their liege and all. Flynn shrugs.  I don't think it'll work, but it's worth the effort.  I'll take the caravan and the bulk of the company that way.  Elsa will lead a small group here, he points to a more remote dot. It's in the opposite direction, but not so far as she can't get to Staghead before we leave.

Elsa nods and Flynn begins to roll up the map.  Godrick looks dour but Flynn ignores it.

Seeing as you've got some experience in these parts, I'll be sending you with her as a guide.  Sir Twelvepenny will go along as a strong sword and a clean face.  Turncoat Dan will go with you as well because, frankly, my ears are near to bleeding from his incessant tongue waggling.

Flynn looks over the rest of his company and raises his voice to address them.

After relaying the plan, he opens the floor to anyone who wishes to follow Elsa, Uldaf, Sir Twelvepenny and Turncoat Dan.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 147):

Titus quirks his lips and stays quiet for a bit.

Too often for my taste.  I'd say that the demon and angel are the ones that I see the most.  The... other is always obscured in shadows.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 149):

"Be certain that you know which is which," Brennan says to Titus. "It isn't as obvious as it seems. We can discuss this more later, when you have recovered a bit from the experience."

When the option is offered to go with Elsa or stay with Flynn, Brenna furrows his brow.

"So, you'd be heading straight to Staghead, while the other group would be doing... what, precisely?"

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 150):

Hitting up one of the smaller townships for coin, of course.  It's in the opposite direction, but not far from here, perhaps half a day without the cart to slow you down.  Once you've collected the taxes due, Elsa and hers will find us in Staghead.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 150):

My place is in the largest town with the largest audience. 

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 152):

Uldaf heaved a private sigh.

This isn't what I signed came South for- shaking down innocent people for backtaxes. I left the mountains in search of stability and a force to bring it back with. These people are lucky to have a pot to piss in- I won't be the one to take it.

Perhaps the road to this small town will be more twisting and arduous than they had planned for. Perhaps indeed.

As you say.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 153):

"Pardon, Flynn, but I'm still confused," Brennan says. "Didn't you say you were going to ask Staghead to pay the aggregated taxes from the various and sundry backwater towns, in exchange for allowing them to handle the collection themselves? Why would we visit one such town before making that entreaty?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:43, Tue 20 Jan 2015.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 154):

Perhaps the lad is brighter than I thought, though to say what he's just said aloud shows a discernible intelligence, and the associated lack of wisdom.

Ah to be young again.

Enrei stood and smiled as the others talked.  They talked a lot, and very little of it meant much to him.  Lieges and aggregate taxes meant nothing to him.  He did recognize a map when he saw one, and mostly understood when Flynn said Elsa would be splitting the company.  He said nothing when Flynn asked for volunteers.  Though he would've liked to hear more of Dan's stories, he assumed he wasn't welcome in a small group.  If Uldaf was already going, it would easily become a large group.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 156):

Flynn crossed his muscled arms and planted his feet.

I said we're going to 'ask'.  Might be they comply, more likely they don't.  If the latter, I don't want to have to double back.  I'm neither robber nor bully and I don't intend to force them to pay anything more than their due.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 157):

Brennan nods, satisfied with this answer -- or at least satisfied that it's the only answer he's going to get.

"I'll travel wherever I'm needed. Do we want both archers on the same team?" he asks rhetorically.

He frowns and looks at the map. The towns don't look THAT far apart.

"I'll go with Elsa and company, if there are no objections, so as to see more of the local scenery."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:27, Tue 20 Jan 2015.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 158):

Titus smiles brightly,

VERY WELL!  Brennan you and Uldaf will go onwards to yon village and my great friend and I.

Clapping Enrei affectionately on the back.

Will go to the town. 

Enrei looks at Titus, apparently having missed something, and waves to the rest of the compny, "They are not coming?"

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 160):

And here I was, momentarily concerned my puppy wouldn't follow.

I'll be happy to have your company lad- you've demonstrated a real knack for bringing excitement to my life.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 161):

Without much ceremony, Flynn's company is split in two with Elsa, Turncoat Dan, Sir Twelvepenny, Uldaf and Brennan heading south while the bulk of Flynn's forces head north toward Staghead.

Road to Staghead

'Road' is perhaps a generous word for the beaten dirt trail that leads to Staghead.  It rolls largely between the larger hills and stones but the smaller of these outcroppings intrude into it from time to time as to small puddles, patches of scraggly plants and deep ruts from elk and the like.

This means that though the going is easy enough to walk, there are frequent stops to un-stick one or the other wagon.  To this end, Enrei is a fantastic asset, he and the Kattenses being able to almost lift a wagon between them.

Lump rattles and rolls in the back of one wagon, hopping out whenever it gets stuck and doing his level best to help out but his stature makes this difficult.

Jacob Larelle's behavior is the only one with any marked difference from the previous days.  Rather than keep with the procession, he runs off to the sides randomly to scale the tallest hill or rock in the vicinity and keep a close lookout even though Flynn had already assigned a guard to the lead and lag the procession.

Travel continues like this for the remainder of the day and by the time the sun is setting, a small town is visible in a shallow valley that is largely flat.  Several large stone huts with roofs of straw form roughly a circle around a large central building.  This building is larger in diameter but no taller than the rest.  None of the structures has windows, but each has a thin wisp of smoke rising from a chimney.

Broken Stony Path to Unnamed Village


Elsa takes command of the small band headed south, and though she keeps her eyes peeled, she allows Uldaf to lead for the most part.

The path quickly fades, forcing him to rely purely on landmarks, general bearings, and his sense of the land.

In reply to GM (msg # 162):

Uldaf seems innervated by the transition to the rural mountain setting, a bounce in his step and color in his face readily visible that had not existed in your earlier encounters.

Uldaf moved the party easily through the terrain, continuing to look as though he knew where he was headed well after any sign of formal roads or path had disappeared.

[Survival 2x8]

Salmon creek! I'll let ye wonder on why it's named as such.

With no semblance of pretext, Uldaf strips to the bone and begins bathing himself.

Sensing the eyes of the others upon him, Uldaf shrugs and responds with a bemused expression.

This is the last freshwater stream I know of between here and our destination, and we'll be headed away from it shortly. I suggest you indulge and refill while you can, and if you're of a mind, join me in looking for dinner. We don't name creeks ironically in these parts.

Almost on cue, a salmon jumps in the stream, and the old bear snatches him from the air with his bare hands.

Looks like I'll be having a warm meal!

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 163):

Broken Stony Path

"You have fast hands," Elsa comments.  She looks Uldaf up and down but does not comment on his nudity.

Turncoat Dan laughs and tromps over to the stream where he does his best to spear a fish with a long knife.  It takes him several tries, and he manages to soak his leggings in the process, but eventually he gets one (2x2).  "Got the fucker!  That ain't so hard!"  he laughs.  "Though they squirm like a naive maiden!"

Sir Twelvepenny stands idly to one side, hands resting calmly on the hilt of his long sword.  Since the carts were sent to Staghead, he donned his mail, breastplate and cuisse.  His helm and gauntlets he carries on his back.

"We shouldn't linger," he comments, scanning the rocky terrain.

Brennan too, from his perch atop the tallest rock beside the stream, lets his gaze skim across the hills.

"Riders to the west," Brennan says suddenly, squinting into the distance. "At least a dozen... maybe a score. Can't make out much more than that. Seem to be wearing long cloaks."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 165):

Road to Staghead

The wagons creak and the company's bellies rumble as you trot the last leg of your journey, downhill into the valley where Staghead is situated.  As you get closer you begin to note the bustle of people moving about their work.

While there are no large fields, there are numerous small plots along the road and spreading out around the circumference of the valley.  These appear to be small vegetable gardens and here and there a fruit tree, but these are rare.

There are also large pens of sheep and goats, tended to by wide-eyed youths who stand quietly by their crooks and watch you pass.

Khan the Low growls at these while Flynn waves politely.

The town is aptly named.  You knew deer were plentiful in the area, and it seems that each small hut you pass on the road toward the central building has antlers mounted above its door and sometimes all along the roof.

The building in the center, it turns out, is part granary and bakery.  You see commoners carrying smoked meat, cheese, milk and vegetables into a few doors on one side while the smell of baking wafts to your hungry noses.

On the other side of the large building is an enormous entryway with a thick wooden door wide open in it.

Just as you cross into view of this central building, a man in a rusty helmet jogs up to you.

"Ho, travelers?  What business have you?"

In reply to GM (msg # 166):

Flynn smiles broadly and spreads his massive arms.

Have no fear, we come in peace good sir.  We are on official business for Lord Gent, but first I wish to feed my horses and my men.

The man accepts Flynn's embrace but not without some hesitation.

For which we intend to compensate you, Flynn adds, which turns the man's frown into a slight smile.

"Ah, good then.  You are welcome to join us in the town hall, but your weapons should remain with your horses."

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 167):

A still nude Uldaf bites the head off his salmon, and emerges from the creek.

We can try to ford the creek to put some distance between us and them, but if we can cross, so can they.

Recommend heading for the hills; it's our only shot at losing them.

Does anyone recognize their heraldry, or have we just solved the mystery of the missing tax money?
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 15:01, Thu 22 Jan 2015.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 168):

Broken Stony Path

When Elsa climbs the rock to look where Brennan indicates, the riders have already moved off to the West and are now out of sight.

In reply to GM (msg # 169):

"I didn't see any trappings or banners," Brennan says with a shrug. "But then again, they were quite a ways off. If they were to sort to fly a banner, it would have to be enormous to be clearly visible to us from here."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 170):

Relieved, Uldaf dresses himself and sets to preparing his lunch.

So am I getting a warm meal, or are we on the move? Elsa, do you know of any riders who'd have reason to be out this far? We aren't exactly in the heart of any King's country here.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 171):

"If they moved off, they're no concern of ours," Elsa says with a shrug.  "But I don't want to be in the open after dark, we press on and find shelter in the town."

Enrei had not been pleased to find mercenary work required heavy lifting just as much as sailing had, but he was dutiful during the trek to town, and the various rocks and ditches at least offered variety in what and where had to be hefted for the wagons to get back on track.  When the rocky road smooths out into the town entry, Enrei waves and smiles at the shepherds and goatherds they pass, the stares directed at him slightly longer than the rest of the company.  It is only when the smell of food hits him, that Enrei's vacant grin gains a hint of purpose.  He becomes acutely aware of how little he has eaten relative to the amound he has had to lift and as Flynn addresses the one-man welcoming party, Enrei sidles up behind the troupe's leader and looms over his shoulder casting expectant glances toward the source of the appetizing scents.  He doesn't want to interrupt the exchange but desperately hopes someone will invite him to eat before he has to pick up a wagon again.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 173):

Broken Stony Path

The small team presses on, guided by Uldaf, through the broken terrain.  The pace is quickened in response to the sight of the riders and the fact that the sun is beginning to slip toward the horizon.

Just as it begins to set, you climb a particularly large hill and almost trip over your destination.

It's not a town in any sense, but a long row of stone huts built directly into the hill and you are forced to walk around and climb down the side so as not to drop directly onto someone's door.

The stones of these huts are rough and irregular but fitted together with great skill and care so that there are only very slight gaps and these are filled with clay.  Being built into the hill, each needs only one or two walls.  Each hut has a heavy wooden door set into it and a chimney to one side.

Running along the length of the row of huts is a long trench dug into the ground and covered with an oiled leather tarp thus forming a long thin building of sorts.

The huts have no windows but smoke curls up through the chimney of each.  The long building has only canvas doors so you can see some light shining out from inside.

At the moment, nobody is outside and Elsa pauses to furrow her brow, likely contemplating the best way to make your presence known.

In reply to GM (msg # 174):

Flynn eyes the man for some time and clears his throat meaningfully.  However, he does remove his sword and place it in one of the carts.  Very deliberately, he makes clear that the small knife on his belt will be coming with him.  The man does not object.

Flynn looks over his company.

Khan and Harma will stay with the carts while we talk some business, then I'll send someone out to relieve you.  For that, you'll be spared night watch.

Khan and Harma nod.  The rest of the company begin to place their weapons on the cart and then follow Flynn into the large building.

In reply to GM (msg # 174):

Unbidden, Uldaf begins assembling a small firepit in the center of the stone huts, and unpacks his medical supplies as he seats himself next to the small flame.

Town like this doesn't see many seasoned medicine men such as myself.
A warm fire and the promise of mended bones should do nicely to draw them out.

That is, if the riders haven't already drawn and quartered them.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 176):

That's one way to do it.

Brennan keeps a careful eye out, but has no suggestions to add.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 177):

Titus flashes his best smile and makes a flourish of his cape to show that he is ostensibly unarmed.  He follows Flynn to talk business.

Enrei is eager to follow Flynn into the building emitting the alluring scents.  He makes no move to relieve himself of the knives at his hips, or the hatchet hanging behind him, though he also doesn't make a show of keeping them, he simply follows Flynn once the instructions are given to the rest of the company.  It's anyone's guess if this is due to a conscious decision to keep what little he posesses, or if he just missed the salient points in Flynn's conversation.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 179):

Staghead

As he is bending down to enter the large central building, Enrei finds two large hands on his chest.  One of the Kattenses shakes his head slowly while his twin points to the knives at Enrei's belt.

They look meaningfully at Titus, clearly expecting him to explain to the big islander.  They then duck through into the building.

The town hall is clean, warm and dry though not overly spacious.  Right now it's full of people sitting in small groups talking, whittling, drinking, knitting, etc.  It's very clear that this is the place where everyone in the town ends up at the end of a long day to socialize.

There is a low warm fire at one end of the room and doors leading into the storerooms beyond.  Most people are sitting on barrels or low benches and there are a few tables but they are mostly piled up in one corner as the main meal is already passed for the day.

The room is well-lit, there being honest-to-God lanterns hanging from the rafters.

Judging by the looks Flynn's party receives, there are not overly many visitors, but the faces are generally friendly.

Judging further from the looks, it is clear that there are NEVER any visitors that look quite like Enrei.  Wherever he looks people turn away or become suddenly busy with whatever they are doing.

Your escort is deep in conversation with Flynn, and by the manner in which he is weighing coin with one hand, they are clearly discussing payment for something.

In reply to GM (msg # 180):

The Stony Hamlet

While Uldaf works to build a fire with what little kindling there is, Brennan stands by and watches.

Elsa frowns at the hermit, then gestures to Sir Twelvepenny.

"As you wish, m'lady," he replies and marches over toward the long low tent building.  Several feet from the entrance he plants his feat, clears his throat and speaks in a loud but friendly voice.

"Hello there.  I wish to speak with you."

There is a flurry of voices from inside the tent and then they are hushed.  One voice replies:

"And who are you?"

"My name is Sir Twelvepenny, but I come in the name of your Lord Gent.  I am here with my companions on his behalf.  I do not wish to alarm you, may we enter?"

There is a pause, then the tent flap is flipped aside and a large man in thick furs climbs out.  He has a tangle of matted hair and a scraggly beard.  In one hand is a heavy wood axe.

In reply to GM (msg # 181):

Uldaf continues to assemble a fire and finishes laying out his medical supplies. A warm smile crosses his face when he sees the man welcome Sir Twelvepenny with a brandished axe.

Finally, an appropriate northern greeting.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 182):

Brennan glances over at the man and tenses slightly, in case his bow becomes necessary.

I have nothing to worry about, he muses reassuringly to himself. I know where my towel is.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 183):

Titus explains carefully and slowly to Enrei that he must leave his knives at the door.  People here are scared of them.  Regradless that he is infinitely more dangerous with his hands.

After Enrei is taken care of Titus enters the room with a flourish smiling broadly.  He flirts outrageously with the matrons of the room kissing babies and generally making himself the temporary mayor of the city.  He lets everyone know they can expect a performance that evening.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 184):

Enrei seems very distraught at Titus's explanation.  When he first tries to explain that the people don't want weapons in the building, Enrei laughs it off, "These are not weapons, these are knives," he holds one out for Titus to examine.  At the suggestion that knives are weapons, he again argues, "No, no.  Weapons are for killing.  Knives are for cutting."  The idea that people are scared of them anyway, and that knives can kill people are similarly dismissed, "There is no reason to be scared.  It is so little!" Enrei's particular example of knifehood is large enough to accomodate his hand comfortably and is thereby not actually that little.  It takes a series of similarly straightforward but misled arguments for the two to come to an understanding.  To Enrei the items are just tools, and the villager's aversion is unfounded.  Titus finally insists he leave his tools on the wagons with everyone else's.  While still unsatisfied and confused, Enrei at least relents and leaves all sharp implements behind.

Once inside, the townspeople's aversion to Enrei is either unnoticed or familiar enough that Enrei shows no offense.  Rather, he walks up to the Katenses and proclaims, "I have left my knives on the wagon.  Now no one is scared," perhaps a little more loudly than necessary.  When they say nothing in reply, he takes it as approval of the act and sits next to the twins.  Their combined efforts keeping the wagons moving had endeared the two to Enrei.  As men of few words they appealed to the islander, who understood few words.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 185):

The Stony Hamlet

"What business have you?"  The question is not asked with hostility, but with cold pragmatism.  "You are heavily armed yet have no horse."

"Aye, we are, as I said, in the service of your Lord Gent.  He has dispatched us to speak with you on his behalf on the matter of taxes due his lordship."

The man shifts his axe to the other hand.  Behind him, you can see eyes and noses poking out through the tent flap.

"Aye Lord Gent is my liege, but you wear no colors," the man notes.  "How are we to know that you speak on his behalf?"

He glances toward Uldaf's small fire and collection of apparatuses.

"And you?  Did Lord Gent send a surgeon as well or are you a squatter?"

Staghead

As Titus makes his rounds, he is well enough received by the simple folk.  They seem particularly excited about a performance, and gladly clear space at one side of the room not far from the fire.  A ring of chairs and tables quickly forms around it locking Titus into a makeshift stage surrounded by watching eyes.

Behind this, Flynn continues to converse with the man in the helmet while the massive Kattenses flank him.

In reply to GM (msg # 186):

Brennan defers to Elsa on the matter of proving their validity.

Surely we have some sort of signet or seal or letter or banner.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 187):

But a traveling merchant peddling his expertise in exchange for a warm meal and patched roof to sleep under. These are my lands as well as yours, and I wish to see them kept in order and health.

I offer services of the medic to any and all loyal to Lord Gent free of charge, and without inquiry as to the nature of injury. Unless that is, ye think you can find a better offer and more skilled surgeon elsewhere.

Uldaf reaches for his own weapon, grasping without intention of violence but with the demeanor of a man familiar with violence's trappings.

I mean no harm other than that associated with the pain of health. Use me as ye see fit, or be gone from my sight.

Northern hospitality. Take my good will, or fuck ye for asking. We'll see if he's of my blood or not.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 188):

The Stony Hamlet

The big man sizes up Uldaf for a moment, then gives a small tilt of his head in acknowledgement.  He turns in place and says something to the face poking through the tentflap.

A moment later, a half-dozen or so people clamber out.  They are dressed in a similar manner to the first man, mostly deerskin with various furs and bone clasps, and each carries at least one tool that could as easily be used to kill.  These move slowly toward Uldaf and begin to ask him probing questions about his experience, if he knows how to make various pultaces, etc.

The big man then turns back to Sir Twelvepenny, who by now has produced a thick sheet of paper.

"Don't do letters," he growls matter-of-factly.  "No use up here."  He stabs at the paper with a meaty finger.  "This seal I know, that makes it SOMETHING from Lord Gent, though I still don't know what you're here for."

He scratches his beard and watches an elderly man asking Uldaf about arthritus and incontinence.  "Though my cock works like a charm" the man assures Uldaf, "Nothin' wrong with THAT thank God's dream!"

"We're all honorable men, and we always pay our dues," the man muses.  "You look like the sort a Lord might send.  Even if the paper is true, how can I know you aren't thieves who waylaid Lord Gent's men?"

In reply to GM (msg # 189):

"Why, see for yourself," Brennan says, cautiously approaching. "We're weary and worn from travel, but not from combat. And as you said, we're the sort a lord might send. Once your taxes are paid, we can leave you with something that'll tell anybody else who comes here that you've already paid your taxes. No thieves I've ever had the misfortune of interacting with would bother with something as official as that."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 190):

Stony Hamlet

The big man raises one bushy brow at Brennan.

"That's exactly the sort of complicated thing a Lord's man WOULD come up with."  He pauses for a moment, chewing on his beard.  "But that's fair.  We'll pay our taxes due and you leave that scrap of paper with us, along with your new writings."

At that, the man sets his axe to one side of the tent and seizes Sir Twelvepenny by the forearm in a fierce shake.

"Come," he says gesturing to everyone but Uldaf, "You have no furs and it is warmer inside.  We will talk about money owed and something for you to eat."

The big man flips the tent flap aside and climbs in.

In reply to GM (msg # 191):

Uldaf dispassionately tends to the wounds of all who approach him, mending and kneading as required.

First Aid [2x9]
Medicine [Fail]

Uldaf makes easy work triaging the more mundane injuries, including one of the more advanced cases of mountain thrush he'd ever seen. Of course, Uldaf knew such a disease could only be acquired from cross-species relations, and even then only from his own experience; he thought better of commenting on the source of his knowledge and kept his replies short and gruff.

The more serious cases Uldaf was unable to influence significantly, though even just a cleaning of the wounds and kind words were met with grateful hospitality.

You're a strong and hearty people who needed me less than I needed you, but I will still impose upon your hospitality for a warm meal, preferably with some real meat in it.

I wonder if Cassie still hibernates in the same cave..

In reply to GM (msg # 186):

Titus goes up on stage and gives a solid, but unremarkable performance for a small but appreciative audience.  As always you can recognize some of the stories of himself that he has told you.  He sticks mostly to the safe classics, nothing too raucous.  If you are paying close attention you can tell that he is weaving a theme of fealty and duty into the evening.  Nothing enough to make people resentful but enough to put them in a mood to care for their lord.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 193):

The Stony Hamlet

The people of the small hamlet are reserved but grateful for Uldaf's services.  He spends his time until well after the sun has set treating minor wounds, checking on healing limbs and administering minor remedies.  For his troubles he is rewarded with many blessings to end his days in the Dream of Heaven, as well as some small tokens of the people's appreciation.


He is then free to join his comrades in the long tent.

The inside of the long tent is warm and dry but not overly spacious.  Once inside you find that the trench which forms the floor and walls is around six feet deep with stairs cut into the packed earth at each end.  The tent is boiled leather and allows space enough for a grown man to walk without stooping.  There are candles and a small cookfire inside which keep it lit but gloomy.  There is no furnature per se, but a small host of rocks, logs and empty barrels serve as chairs and small tables for sitting.

After sufficient discussion and convincing, the big hairy man, Gynn as his name turns out to be, is convinced enough of your legitimacy.  A sack of coin is finally produced and handed over to Elsa who accepts it wordlessly.

Gynn accepts the letter Sir Twelvepenny offered from Lord Gent and watches intensely as the would-be-knight signs his name at the bottom to certify payment has been received.

A simply but filling meal of elk and root vegetables is offered along with simple dense bread.  A reddish ale that tastes vaguely of moss is offered to wash it all down.

The people of the hamlet are welcoming enough, though not terribly open.  They ask of news from the cities but do not seem overly interested in the answers, as if everything said is business as usual.

As the hour gets later the people leave the central tent for their own homes until finally only Flynn's company remain.

"Sleep under our tent," Gynn grunts as he stirs the fire, "you are safe enough for the night, but I wouldn't leave the tent if I were you."

Blankets are offered to sleep under, but to emphasize Gynn's point, two boys remain in the tent to keep watch.

Staghead

Titus' performance is well received and the townsfolk hang on his every word and gesture.  The children especially, who likely have not seen such a performer, are taken with him and cling to his heels long after the songs and acts are done.


The conversation beyween Flynn and the man in the helmet goes on for quite a while, though when it is over Flynn does not seem overly pleased.

Quietly, he announces that they will remain in Staghead for a day at most until Elsa is able to rejoin them, after which they should be ready to press on.  While he talks he weighs a small sack of coin in one hand before turning it over to Godrick, who spends the rest of his time in careful study of his ledger.

The company is permitted to sleep in the great house for the night, and Flynn sets his men to rotate guard duty at the door about the carts.

Uldaf happily accepts the alchemical provisions and jerky offered to him, but respectfully declines any offers of monetary compensation.

The pennies are my pay for a warm tent to sleep under, and food and ale to fill my belly, and I'll hear no more of it.

Satisfied by his good deeds and the improved condition of the village, Uldaf joins the crew in the main tent.

Uldaf listens with the quiet intensity of a man tempered by age. Uldaf makes no attempt to interrupt or ask questions until Gynn has completely finished his story.

While I understand and respect yer concern for the safety of your village, especially the ladies, I would ask you man to man, is there another reason we should not leave the tents this eve? Is there something in these hills you would have us know of.. or not know of?

These people are great many things, but superstitious is not likely one of them. Northern hills are home to a great many things, some more pleasant than others. Is this village territory for one of them?

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 195):

During the show Titus picks out a young woman, pretty, old enough to be on her own, but not so old to be established and married.  He aims a few ballads at her and she watches quietly smiling as the children gathers around him. With the adulation of the children you can see he is in his element, flirting with the young girls, fencing with sticks for the boys.  He picks out the runt of the litter and even lets him 'kill' him in a sword fight dying dramatically.

Eventually the mothers take their kids back to their homes and you don't see Titus again for the rest of the night.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 196):

The Stony Hamlet

"Wolves for one," Gynn grunts with a nod.  "Thieves for another.  The further one goes into the mountains, the thicker they come.  None as yet so bold as to invade our homes, but there's enough have seen them patrolling to know they're getting bolder."

He takes a deep drink of the thin local beer and ignores the foam that clings to his beard.

"And there's our daughters," he agrees with a slight smirk.

In reply to GM (msg # 197):

Thoughtful and honest. Would that Lord Gent had more men of your stock in his lands; the fief would be better for it.

Though not necessarily the birthing rate..

Uldaf will continue to enjoy the local color and accompaniments, and will spend the night without intent to incident as instructed by Gynn.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 198):

Brennan is content to stay in the tent, though he'll try to learn more about the local philosophies and belief systems if he can.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 199):

The Stony Hamlet

The night passes uneventfully in the large tent.

Brennan stays up late talking with the boys left to keep an eye on you.  The northmen are hard but honest and simple.  They don't seem to think much on the topic of God or the Dreams other than to be able to quote a few things from the Bible.  Their concerns are of frost, hunt and wolf.

Local variations on stories of the First are interesting, however, and they have those aplenty.  In particular, they attribute snow as being the creation of Belarius as a simple and elegant way to eliminate weeds.  Without him to control it, their stories say, it can come too hard at times and bury men to their necks some years.

In the morning, Elsa has everyone prepare to leave shortly after dawn.

The march then resumes, with a watchful eye being kept out for more signs of the raiders Brennan noted before.

At some point in the walk, Elsa has a few whispered words with Uldaf.


Besides that, most of the talking is left to Brennan and Sir Twelvepenny.

By nightfall you have found your way back to the road and to Staghead to rejoin Flynn and his company.

Staghead

Before dawn, some of the group are roused by the usual early-morning activities of farmers and huntsmen beginning their days.

The day turns sunny and warm enough, so few of the townsfolk remain inside.  Flynn is able to buy soup, some bread and a few sausages for the company, though anything beyond these essentials is left up to the men to negotiate.

There is not much to do but wait for Elsa's team to return.  Flynn spends the day planning with Godrick and sitting in the sun.

Most of the company take up their wasters to practice or else trade stories with locals.  You gather that in the peak of summer, the town sees a caravan or group once a week or so, but that this tapers off to nothing in the winter.  Most coming through are simple merchants going north or returning.

Enrei spends the entire night nursing one drink, before the company turns in and begins rotating night watch.  With none of the townsfolk keen to keep Enrei company, he satisfies himself with checking on the wellbeing of his belongings left with the wagons the night before and spectating the others as they practice with their wasters.  Despite his eagerness to brawl at the crossroads tavern and affinity for watching the others' practice sessions, the big islander has not once requested to join the swinging of sticks.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 201):


Titus emerges as if from nowhere at sunrise smiling from ear to ear.  He strides confidently into the tent.

Good morning gentlemen!

He spends a little bit of time chatting to anyone with herbs for sale

He sits next to Enrei as the fighting begins.  He initially begins talking in the manner that was so infuriatingly unhelpful in learning about the Cha'li and then suddenly changes tack as an idea hits him.

So when a child is trying to go to sleep what....

...

Enrei; tell me a story. 

It takes a moment for Titus's request to hit Enrei, distracted as he is by the spectacle of the men sparring, but when it does he turns to Titus, a look of utter confusion on his face, "A story?  But you know so many stories.  And I am not very good at telling.  I do not remember all the words," he looks a bit embarassed at this admission.  Enrei thinks back on their relatively brief relationship, and how eager Titus has been to learn a number of other things Enrei is not especially good at.

"But I think maybe I remember one."  At this Enrei furrows his brow and thinks very hard back to the days of his youth, and listening to sailor's stories, "There is... in the deep water, a beast.  He is like a fish, but he is cast-off," Enrei begins slowly, clearly straining to remember the words, and put them in the correct order despite only grasping a minimum of the meaning, "and he is very big.  So big he can eat a whole man."

Suddenly Enrei's tone shifts, the struggle of memory and interpretation melting away into his normal broken dialect, "But it is bigger than that, because one time I saw a fish that could eat a man, but my friend tells me it is not cast-off.  We were fishing, and I say fish is not cast off, fishing is cast off, and he tells me it is different kind of casting.  I think he means it is not this thing."  The original story seems to abruptly end there as Enrei's train of thought is derailed by the anecdote, and the name of the monster lost in the mix.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 202):

Staghead

Most of the townsfolk are fairly busy throughout the day, tending to small gardens, hunting, baking, collecting rocks for a new building, etc.

The town is large enough to have a dedicated blacksmith and a combination cooper/fletcher/carpenter's shop.  These stay by their shops all day and thus have more time to chat.

The best answers Titus get are to consult with the local Seer or that the berries that grow in the shade on the hill are poisonous and give you terrible stomach cramps.  A young girl ate some several summers ago and died of diarrhea days later.

In reply to GM (msg # 204):

Titus bounces into the blacksmith after a disappointing chat with the seer.

He looks over the balcksmiths wares.

I don't suppose you have any throwing knives do you?

He asks while lazily toying with his juggling balls.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 205):

The man shrugs, "Some knives are good for throwing, some for eating and some for skinning elk."  He wipes the sweat from his brow.  The man is middle-aged, bald and skinny but with strong arms and grey hair sticking out of his ears.

He unrolls some cloth and lays it out before Titus.

"Here are the knives I have ready, if you want something special I can put my hammer to it, but you will be leaving us soon, I hear?"

On the cloth are a few long knives and a few short and curved, likely for skinning and preparing carcasses.  Nothing there is designed for throwing, but one or two would likely serve.

In reply to GM (msg # 200):

[Alchemy 2x10]

If Elsa is familiar with the taste of the requested tonic, the look on her face does nothing to show it, as she sips the smoothest and most pleasant variety ever brewed for her.

Uldaf makes no pretense to engage in conversation over the matter, simply observing her reaction and stating matter of factly:

"I'm familiar with the recipe and can supply to ye as needed, provided ye can supply the herbs. That was all the stocks of the necessary herbs I had; in my preparation, I had not considered the need. My apologies."

Uldaf leaves the pot and makes no further attempts to engage Elsa, leading the group safely back to Staghead just before nightfall.

Cities are the purview of other folks. Would one of you like to lead the way now that we're back in parts known?

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 207):

Elsa nods to Uldaf in the least unfriendly gesture you've yet seen from her.

When the town of Staghead is in sight, she and Sir Twelvepenny lead the way and you are soon rejoined with Flynn and the others.

In reply to GM (msg # 208):

After Elsa turns over the sack of money, which Flynn then turns over to Godrick, he gathers his men in a haphazard assembly about the carts.

As I suspected, the good people of Staghead claim it is not their duty to pay the taxes of the smaller boroughs and claims in the area.  Flynn shrugs slowly.  And who can blame them, but it was worth the try.  So tomorrow we march once more.  Take your rest and your pleasures here while you can, it's like the last of civilization you'll be seeing for a while and the locals say there are bandits aplenty in the hills further east.

Flynn then retires to the town hall to talk hunting with a large man with larger ears.  He sets two-man rotations to guard the carriages through the night.

Elsa vanishes for a short wile, then returns and presses something small into Uldaf's palm.


[OOC:  Let me know how you want to finish out the night, then back to the fellowship... I mean walking!]

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 209):

Brennan pursues the various wares available, but buys nothing unless he finds something remarkable like a book or similar. Here, too, he collects stories of the Dream from the locals, giving and listening to opinions from anyone willing to participate in the conversation.

At some point he sits aside with Titus and asks him about his dreams, as well.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 210):

Titus shakes his head at Enrei's inability to explain. He pats the big man gently

Lets try again when Brennan gets back.  Maybe he can help.

Titus peruses the blacksmiths wares.

How much do you want for that one?  He asks pointing at the knife with the best looking balance.

He sits with Brennan and discusses his dreams/night terrors

After talking to Brennan for a while he brings him over to Enrei

Remember that story from earlier?  Lets try it again.

He leans over and in a stage whisper to Brennan

There is a good story in there... I know it! 
This message was last updated by the player at 13:49, Tue 03 Feb 2015.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 211):

/ooc may be locked down again today/ooc

so if we can tease the story out of Enrei I will tell it at my performance tonight

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 210):

The people of Staghead are far more accustomed to visitors and thus more open and talkative.  They are eager for news of the south, particularly anything to do with Hyrium, Galeena and the other 'grand cities' on the water.

The stories the people tell differ only slightly from most of those Brennan has heard before, and here they seem to particularly focus on Sherax and her invention of fire.  A boy tells a peculiar tale:

Initially, he states, Belarius created the wind to spread seeds, cool farmers and such.  It also allowed hunters to avoid being smelled by their prey, and thus made life in the hills possible.  The farmers were impressed and very appreciative.  Mun, who happened to be by, was not impressed by the wind, as he claimed he could make wind any time he had a steady diet of beans.

The wind, though good, brought bitter cold in winter.  Sherax thus invented fire by smashing two logs together.  The farmers were again happy and praised Sherax.  Mun, not wanting to be outdone again, proclaimed that he too could create fire and he made his wind upon the flames.  The resulting explosion burned poor Mun's arse so terribly that he could not sit for a week.

The town has all manner of basic provisions such as tools, knives, clothes, arrows, etc. but nothing particularly special otherwise.

At least one knife the smithy shows Titus is balanced enough for his purposes.  The smith asks a silver chip for it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:53, Tue 03 Feb 2015.

When Titus sits Enrei down to tell his story to Brennan, he starts much the same as he did for Titus alone, his face grows dark with concentration and he speaks slowly, "There is... in the deep water, a beast."  When Titus stops him and insists he try in his native tongue Enrei is momentarily dismayed, but brightens after a moment, "Oh, okay, but the man who tells me this story is not very good at Chal'i."

When he does begin the telling in Chal'i his tone is still that of one straining against his own memory and his pace just as slow.  The story seems to end with one word recognizably not Chal'i in origin, "Leviathan."  At that, he slips into his more natural tone of voice again.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 214):

Brennan smiles as Enrei completes his tale, translating for Titus without much in the way of embellishment.

"There is a big fish that lives underwater. Its name is Leviathan, and all  sailors are scared of him because he eats people and creates great waves whenever he swims. Though Enrei is quick to note that nobody really seemed scared of Leviathan except the one who told him the story, and that the storyteller was an entertaining wordsmith but was not very good at speaking Chal'i."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:19, Tue 03 Feb 2015.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 215):

As Titus, Enrei and Brennan talk, a small perimeter of curious children gradually forms.

They focus their attention on Enrei.  The glimmer in their eyes is curiosity, but their stance says fear.

In reply to GM (msg # 216):

That is awfully steep for a single knife that isn't even fully balanced across the tang. 

He holds up the knife to scrutinizes it, looks down the blade hmphing to himself.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 217):

The smith crosses his arms.

"You ask for knives, I show you the knives I've got.  You want something made differently, you wait like anyone else.  You want to insult my work, you take a hike."

In reply to GM (msg # 218):

I meant no offense.  I suppose a chip is as a fair a price as I'm like to see in these parts.

Would I be able to talk you into taking a penny off for a performance?  Perhaps to have me sing a song to your wife to... get her in the mood?  Or a favorite childhood tale of adventure?

Or would you rather watch me almost cut my fool hand off trying to juggling this knife?

(Negotiate: fail)

He says with a wink and a smile.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:13, Tue 03 Feb 2015.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 219):

As soon as Team Elsa lands in Staghead, Uldaf immediately becomes scarce. The expression on his face before leaving is unmistakably displeasure.

I can hardly hear myself think in a place like this. So many sounds made for nothing more than hearing, scents for nothing more than smelling, and sights for nothing more than seeing. It seems to me modern society is nothing more than a thinly veiled pretense for the misuse of perfectly good senses.

Give me earth I can feel on my back and beneath my feet, fish and game I can hunt with my hands, and obstacles I can see plainly with my eyes. Civilization. Nothing more than indirect wankery and denial of good, primal urges if you ask me.

Uldaf will peruse the outskirts of the city, and meet at any rendezvous requested. Otherwise, he will sleep outside, and he will sleep alone.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 220):

The smith is patient enough.  Likely he assumes that Titus' mannerisms and suggestion that he needs help bedding his wife are just "what city folk do".  He sighs heavily.

"You seem like a decent enough sort, but I've little use for your skills."

He scratches his head and looks over Titus' soldier.

"Now, unless your voice could get me a new wagon," he says pointing at Flynn's small caravan, "or a night with one of your female companions, it'll be coin or nothing."

In reply to GM (msg # 221):

Titus remains chipper through the exchange though wanting heavily to sigh himself.  The smile remains on his face as he fishes out his purse.

Very well then coin it is.

He places 4 pennies on the table and slides them over to the blacksmith.

Not perfect but it will do in a pinch.  Though it comes dearly.

With a smile and nod Titus leaves the shop.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 222):

Titus leaves the blacksmith thinking darkly

Would have served him right if I had steered him towards Elsa....


When the evening rolls around he will do another round of performance, this time adding the knife to his juggling balls, spearing an apple in midair, and telling the story of the blacksmiths wife in which Mun convinces her to slip him an herb to cure his impotence that turns him into a donkey.

He then leads the group in a long raucous version of hole in the bucket.

He then spends the rest of the evening jovially with his colleagues and actually stays with them afterwords.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:12, Wed 04 Feb 2015.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 223):

The second (or first for some of you) night in Staghead passes without anything particularly interesting happening.

Again you are awoken by farmers and hunters moving about and starting their days, given a little time by Flynn to prepare and then back on the march.

The road north from Staghead is thin and broken, but drier than the one that took you here so although care is needed to get the carts over the rocks and divots, they do not get stuck.

The path being so thin and the land so broken and hilly, Flynn opts to spread the company out in a large glob surrounding the carts to give at least some view of your surroundings.  Thus for the walk it is possible to talk to only one or two other people at a time without hollering yourself horse.

Uldaf remains near the front, keeping an eye on landmarks to make sure you don't stray onto some random goat path by accident.  At one point he bounds over to a small bush and bends down to collect something.


After half a day of walking, the mountains to the east are far closer and the terrain far rockier.  You reach a slight valley in which the road you were on splits.  One winds further north while another shoot straight back up to the east.

Flynn orders the group to rest there, though he leaves Jacob and Elsa on the ridge of the valley to keep watch.

In reply to GM (msg # 224):

Flynn pulls out his worn map once more and consults with Uldaf again, then rolls it up.

Once again we will split up.  The road to the east will likely dwindle down to the size of a goat path, and at any rate it'll be too rocky and steep for the carriages.

So, I'll take them north, along with the bulk of the company.  Our route will be easier going, but a far longer march.

Uldaf will lead a smaller group to the east.  There is a small town to the east that you should be able to reach by sunset if you're quick, soon after dawn if you're not.  After that he'll move north to hit another small town and then swing west to meet up with us in a few days.


Flynn sets his jaw and looks over his troops.

Godrick and Lump with go to the east with Uldaf, as will Titus, Brennan and our islander... and take Arule with you.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 225):

It seems I've been promoted to Sergeant. Good. Let them assume my compliance and complicity. I have different plans altogether.

Aye, should be easy enough. I know these parts. We'll be keeping a brisk pace. Keep up or sod off.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 226):

Arule nods and shifts the short wide sword on his belt.  "As God wills," he agrees.

Lump bobs his head like a frightened bird and hurries about unpacking some supplies to take to the east.

Godrick says nothing, but his face makes clear he isn't excited to climb rocks with Uldaf.

In reply to Flynn Goodall (msg # 225):

Brennan glances over at Elsa, and then at Uldaf.

"Well then. Congratulations on your promotion."

Enrei spent most of the march in relative silence with the Kattenses, to make it easier when some combination of them are required to right a wagon.  Their disposition seems to linger with him as Flynn instructs the company to split, and he quietly follows after Lump once he has his supplies off the cart.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 229):

Aye Aye captain!  Titus says giving a goofy and sloppy salute to Uldaf.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 230):

Once the small group is prepared, Flynn and the rest of the company continue their march North.

Uldaf takes point leading the group through ever-steepening terrain and large boulders.

Here and there are small trails that could as well be elk as people for all most of you can tell.

As the way becomes more difficult, a decision needs to be made about how to traverse it.  Specifically, take as straight a path as possible (which would go up and down valleys, over rocks, etc. and thus be more strenuous) or a more winding path around such obstacles (which requires more careful navigation to avoid getting lost and would be slower).

(OOC:  either way, survival roll from Uldaf)

In reply to GM (msg # 231):

OOC- Forgot to show dice rolls. 08:48, Mon 09 Feb 2015: Uldaf Asbjorn rolled 26 using 5d10 ((6,3,1,10,6))

Uldaf continues to lead the group through the increasingly winding and dangerous terrain comprising the Northeastern hills. As the path narrows, Uldaf begins to labor before finally stopping to turn to the group.

[Survival 2x6]

Safety or Expediency? I would advise safety. These paths are treacherous, and many of you are not experienced woodsman. The journey around may take more time, but ye will be safer for it.

Now we'll see how dire the urgency is to obtain these back taxes, and perhaps I'll finally get an idea of what's really going on here.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 232):

I say safety.

Titus says nonchalantly picking his teeth with a willow switch he grabbed.

As much as I hate these woods and long to be back in civilization I'm in no rush to break my face stumbling around here. 
This message was last edited by the player at 14:10, Mon 09 Feb 2015.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 233):

Arule nods at Uldaf.  Since you started the excursion, the big swordsman has been huffing and puffing to keep up, though he'd never complain.

"God would not have dreamed these hills had he not wanted us to enjoy them," he says with a laugh.

Godrick shakes his head.  "I disagree.  I would rather we spend as little time in these hills as possible.  There's no cover nor shelter and we cannot see foes approaching among the rocks.  I would think being out after dark a grave miscalculation."

Lump, not expecting to be part of any sort of planning, shifts his large pack from one misshapen shoulder to the other.

Of all the group, he has the most trouble keeping up, yet complains the least.

In reply to GM (msg # 234):

Expediency it is, but do not say ye were not warned. Ye were.

Try to keep up; you will not enjoy this, and if we do not make town by nightfall, we will be all the worse for not taking the way around.

Gods watch over us.

Mostly me.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 235):

Brennan shrugs and prepares to follow Uldaf's lead through the faster route.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 236):

Receiving no opposing viewpoints, Uldaf leads the group in the most direct route possible.  Though he does attempt to follow small paths and level ground wherever possible, there is a lot of huffing up hills, carefully sliding down the seat of your britches into valleys and scrambling over rocks.

(OOC:  Body + Endurance or Athletics check for everyone)

In reply to GM (msg # 237):

To the surprise of anyone who didn't witness the daring marketplace escape that got him recruited in the first place, Brennan has no trouble keeping pace while traversing the rocky, unpleasant terrain.

[Body + Athletics: 2x6]


Thanks to the talk of bandits, he keeps his bow near at hand, though not actually IN hand, throughout the day.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:54, Mon 09 Feb 2015.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 238):

As you travel, Arule keeps up but puffs and blows harder and harder, with a fine sheen of sweat within minutes and his face getting redder every hour.  So too do the invocations of God muttered under his breath increase with every stone passed.

Lump keeps his mouth shut, and scrambles as well as he can, but between his short legs, his disability and the overly heavy pack, he is not able to keep up and from time to time someone has to pull him along and the group needs to hold up to let him make up ground.

Godrick has no visible difficulty, though he loudly proclaims his disdain for the route, the rocks and the terrain in general.

In reply to GM (msg # 239):

If Uldaf is surprised that Brennan is the closest to keeping up, or that the rest of the group is salty after barely half a day of hard work, he does nothing to immediately express it. While Brennan maintains a faster pace, Uldaf's never wavers. The hare may have speed, the turtle may have patience, but the bear has unwavering consistency.

Endurance [2x9]

After a few hours of silent travel, as Uldaf begins to notice he has pulled away from even Brennan, he slows his pace and declares a brief break.

We should let Lord Gent know that his tax dollars would be better spent on infrastructure in the Northernmost reaches of his kingdom. Then the next time ye find yourself in these parts, ye can have the leisurely stroll you're after.

Travelling through rough terrain with no experience in tracking or survival? I've seen children poking bears smarter than this..

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 240):

"What Lord Gent does with his people's contributions," Godrick says with a tip of his nose, "Is of no concern to you.  His place is to protect his people, a task that requires far more high-level understanding of the world than that."

Arule sits down heavily and wipes sweat from his brow.

"Aye, to the Lord leave what is his and unto God the rest.  Though we understand neither."

Lump is the last to catch up, as red and breathless as Arule.

Enrei faces no significant difficulty surmounting the rocky path, though he does ocassionally lag behind as he is the most capable to haul Lump over especially difficult patches.  Lump's physique makes his difficulty understandable, but Enrei is a bit confused why anyone else is winded or complaining about the shortest route.  "Why do we stop?  Is very close now?" There has already been far too much walking involved in mercenary work for his taste and he stands over the group during their short rest, clearly eager to carry on.  No one seems in the mood to break out camp and tell stories, and without either he would not expect to stop.

(2x9 body+endurance)

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 242):

Titus manages to keep up easily enough but also whines the loudest.

After hearing about bandits in the woods he hastily rubs some dirt in his hair and on his face he wraps his cloak around his body and tries to adopt the posture of a very poor wretch indeed with mixed success.

Body + Athletics= 2x6
Empathy + Acting= 2x1

/ooc I am having the worst luck on my acting rolls... I have 8 dice in the pool and somehow I'm barely able to scrape by /ooc

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 243):

Uldaf turns to Brennan and Godrick.

Smoke over the next hill. From this distance, looks to be a cooking fire, but I can't say without getting closer. The owner of the fire and their intentions are unknown to me, but that valley is the fastest way to our destination.

We can go around, but I cannot promise we would still make the town by nightfall.

It's your call Godrick.

Make the right one lad. No one makes a fire in these parts in the open without believing they can defend it, or need to be defended by it. This won't end well

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 244):

I wonder if it involves the riders we saw earlier? Brennan muses to himself, waiting to hear Godrick's opinion before venturing his own.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 245):

"Well?"  Godrick looks to each other person in the group (except Lump).  "Is this something you can't handle?  The point, if I understand correctly, in hiring mercenaries is that you're able to handle danger."

In reply to GM (msg # 246):

Handle... yes.  Ride recklessly towards unnecessarily... far less so.  Additionally you don't know whats over there any better than us.  We could take a few armed men, but any kind of organized group... well now you would need a plan, as well as the other team members. 

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 247):

"If it's just one campfire, I can't imagine that the situation would be beyond our means to cope with," Brennan says after a moment. "The only thing I've seen traveling so far besides us were those two-score riders a few days back -- and there's no way such a group would be content with a single fire."

"Unless, of course, it's an elaborate lure..."

Ultimately, Brennan shrugs.

"We're not being particularly quiet. If there's trouble lurking nearby that we can't handle, it's likely to make itself known sooner or later. I'd just as soon we did the knocking, personally."

"Besides, we're probably jumping at shadows. We're here in the service of the land's rightful lord," he continues with a smile. "Whoever they are will surely be pleased to offer us their hospitality."

Though the smile remains, Brennan's eyes darken slightly at the statement that follows.

"Or they will wish they had."

"If handle of danger is mercenary work, then I will take this handle!" Enrei confidently replies to Godrick's question.  He was quite confident in his ability to lift or pull anything the company could present him after several days of doing just that, and danger being in the name had Enrei very intrigued.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:46, Mon 09 Feb 2015.

In reply to Enrei Omal'i (msg # 249):

I'm going to stay close to him.

Titus nods at Enrei and smiles genuinely.

With that he stays near the giant mans' shoulder.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 250):

Uldaf accedes to the group think, continuing the trek downward into the valley.

He leads in silence, but the same chorus of words continue to scream in his mind

No one builds a fire in these parts who cannnot defend it, or be defended by it.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:26, Mon 09 Feb 2015.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 251):

Godrick nods approvingly and allows himself to be lead by the rest of the group.

Arule hauls himself off of his sizable kiester and follows wordlessly.

Lump, only with Enrei's assistance, continues putting one foot in front of the other as best he can.

You come around the small hill Uldaf climbed earlier and begin the gentle sloping walk into the valley.  At its entrance it is only twenty feet or so wide, but as the rocks rise to either side it broadens out and soon you have reached the bottom with thirty feet of sheer face to either side but ample room to move about.

Rounding a thick outcropping, you find the source of the fire. 

Near one wall of the valley, a small collection of men is sitting around a tiny camp.  Two horses are tied up a short distance away, pulling contently at the thin grass that lines the valley.

Three men are sitting around a tiny fire roasting something on sticks.  Another is relieving himself onto a thin scrubby bush, two more have taken up residence ten feet or so off the ground along the walls of the valley and another is standing, feet planted and hands at his hips, apparently waiting for you to show up.

"Afternoon," he calls out with a cheerful wave.  The man is dressed in rough worn leather and matching boots.  You see no banners or surcoats among them, though you do see here and there the glint of rusty maille.

In reply to GM (msg # 252):

Uldaf is turned in the direction of the man stumbling down to meet them before the others have caught his outline or heard his voice.

Well met lad. We spotted your fire and were hoping we might query you for direction and trouble you for a warm place to rest our weary bodies. We were headed for Losthelm, but I seem to have taken a wrong turn somewhere near Albuquerque.

Unfortunately, many of my companions here are not accustomed to trials of this nature and have found themselves travelworn. Might you be willing to extend a brief kindness to this old tinkerer of the wilds and his band of misfits?

Of course, we don't expect kindness without something in kind. I am a medic of some skills, and can tend to any wounded ye may have.

For the love of Gods, STAY SILENT. PLEASE STAY SILENT.

In reply to Uldaf Asbjorn (msg # 253):

Titus recognizing a posture that means keep your damn mouth shut...



....


Does just that.  He even goes so far as to nudge anyone in the ribs who looks like they are about to talk.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:57, Tue 10 Feb 2015.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 254):

Brennan doesn't see any need to speak, nor any need to remain silent. These folks seem a pleasant sort thus far, after all, and he feels vindicated that they aren't surprised to see them.

Enrei returns the man's wave from his position in the rear guard of the group.  The man looked friendly, and with the little cookfire going he wondered if they were going to call it a day and tell stories with the new group, "Hello!" he offers jovially before looking at Titus in confusion, windering why he's smacking the larger man's side, and what the frantic and partially subtle gestures he's making mean.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 255):

"Losthelm is it?"  The man asks pleasantly with a cock of his head.  "Well then you indeed are turned around whichways I should think.  Fortunately for you, I know these hills well."

The three men at the fire remain sitting and the two on the cliff remain still as well.  The last of the group, a bull of a man with long blond hair, finishes his business on the bush and steps closer so that  he is between the fire pit and the man doing the talking.

"But Losthelm is far from here, and beset by invaders I hear.  Tell me, what business have you there?"

"We are mercenary!" Enrei looks up from Titus's curious gestures, "Flynn is man in charge of mercenary. He tells old man," he points to Uldaf, "to take us this way."  Enrei nods, satisfied in his knowledge of their duties before he remembers something, "We are collecting money!" he adds, helpfully.

The kind we don't discuss with strangers, albeit pleasant ones thusfar.

I too am familiar with these hills, and your answer tells me you are as well.

Ah to hell with it. A ruse is a mask I am uncomfortable to be wearing.

We are not headed for Losthelm, but in the service of Lord Gent. For what purpose I am not obliged or authorized to say, other than to tell ye we and he by extension would appreciate your hospitality as we pass through.

Truth be told when I say we have no intention of tarrying here.

Uldaf holds up one hand and places the other over his heart, intending to convey the honesty of his words.