Chrissa takes Jeremiah's hand warmly in her own.

"These companions bring word of one in dire need of your skills -- a good friend and ally of King Arthur... and a victim of an unknown poison.  They inform me that he dwells over the sea, and that his survival depends on your skill and experience.  But they knew not where to seek you, save through me, so they sought my aid."

"Sir Pedivere carries the very chalice that contained the poison, and may know more of the specifics concerning this mission of mercy..."

Pedivere pauses mid-meal to nod in agreement with the words of Chrissa.  Taking a mouthfull of drink, he washes down the stew and then wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

"Indeed, as the good Chrissa speaks I quest for our King, the noble Arthur who resides in Camelot.  These others accompany me for numerous reasons."  The young knight turns to the fool, a curious look upon his face.

"I trust that as this man is in your company, that you would vouch for his veracity?"

Pedivere takes another drink and waits for Jeremiah to respond.

The man with the jingly bells starts coughing horrendously.  His eyes filling with tears and just a trickle of vegetable stew coming from his nose.  He trys to control it but obviously got some soup or spice where it did not belong.  Cough-Cough-wheeze.....Cough.  He seems to gain some composure and wipes his eyes with the corner of his sleeve.  A smallish chuckle coming up as he speaks, "Aye Jeremiah, did I not bring you the glassware as I promised?  Safe and sound, not a scratch on them, well excepting the one I dropped when unloading, but you have to expect some loss.  All the way from so and so and here almost on time.  I must say that I fulfilled my part of our pact."
The fool smiles and has a low chortle escape as he takes a nother spoonful of the vegetable stew....

The foolish one finishes his bowl of stew and taking the somber mood of all around as a cue to become more somber himself, unlimbers his long wooden flute from his pack.  He lifts the flute to his lips and begins to play a haunting dirge, with just enough volumn to be heard but not enough to be intrusive.  The sound of his flute having a seemingly raspy sound to it must be intentional....

Gladly will I share your fire and your stew.

Fr. Rys dismounts and tethers his horse

I must say Jeremiah, this is a nice section of the forest.

   "Ahhh, I see," the hermit smiled at his former student and turned to regard the knight.  "May I see the cup Sirknight?"

   "Ho-ho;" Jeremiah chuckled at the question.  "Aeron?  Aeron does errands for me and blesses me with his mirth.  I have every reason to doubt his senses but not his heart." Jeremiah smiled, jabbing a spoon in the direction of the fool playfully.

  "I thank thee for your kind words good Father, but it is the good Lord that provided it and I am thankful every day for it."  he beamed at the priest, providing a simple wooden bowl and spoon of the warm, aromatic dish.

True, God has provided. But you chose a particularly beautiful section of the woods.

Fr. Rys accepts the bowl and spoon.

Tell me Jeremiah, how do you prefer to do the meal's blessing? I know some wish a private message to the Almighty, and others prefer a verbal one.

"Oh good father, the meal was blessed before I even began to cook it.  It is my secret ingredient in all my concoctions, the good Lord's blessing," he smiled, his eyes twinkling.

Signs the Cross over the gathering

Then may we be nourished by this meal that God has blessed.

edit: spelling errror
This message was last edited by the player at 03:31, Fri 22 Oct 2004.

OCC:  Hi all, I'll be doing my best to pick up with Colm and fit into the group OK.  My apologies in advance for any character or plot points I miss.   I'm sure that the lovely Ms. Swim Doll will correct me if I overstep.

BIC:  Colm sits down in a chair to eat, grinning ear to ear and rubbing his hands together.  "Aye, s'been a lon' road tha's for sure.  I'll be damm glad for a bit'o grub.  Thank'ye Father for gettin' this show onna road, eh?  Lord Bless ye."  He smiles broadly at the good Father.  He goes to take a bit of the food he's been offered, but pauses; his eyes twinkle.  He looks at Jerimiah "So, Ah' mean no offence, frien' but I muss ask, ye, cause it vexes me as a puzzle in my mind.  What does a hermit do with his day, anyway?"  He looks at the hermit.  His smile is both playful and inquisitive.  He waits to take his meal until the Hermit answers.

As if on cue, Aeron drops his flute and does a handstand in response, he reverse bows to Jeremiah as if to aknowlege a great compliment. (A reverse bow being bowing from the wasit whilst upside down.)

The fool Aeron, jumps back to his feet and scurries over close to Jeremiah, "So my friend can you help them on their quest?  Some evil doer hath poisoned someone, if they had me as a food taster I could have told them what they were up against.  None but the finest fools have a tongue for poison like myself.  Why I can tell the difference between hemlock and arsnic with but a taste.  There is no poison I cannot identify.  Hmm, do you think if you help this man he will be in need for a food taster?  As you know I am always looking for patrons...."

Fr. Rys looks at the fool appraisingly. While food testers are employed, rarely have I heard of one also being a jester. What led you to do both?

Likely as not is fer double the pay, eh?  Piped in Colm.

Aeron pips up at this, "Why good father it was pure chance.  I was deciding to appropiate a small portion of my old lord's kidney pie that I experienced a burning tingling sensation all down my gut.  I did many a night of research and discovered that it was poison.  I found myself fascinated with it and wonder why I didn't of course die.  So I tried every poison I could, none of them killed me and I got a taste for em.  As for why become a food taster, well have you ever had the fare of the head of a castle?  It is much better than the fare of a Jester.  So it was completely self-centered"

   "Well good Yeoman, your question is a fair one," Jeremiah begins, sipping from a cup of aromatic tea.  "I thank the good lord for the blessings provided.  I walk in the woods, collecting the ingredients for my wares.  I teach those who come looking to know more about the history of herbs and medicines.  My days are full young sir." he nods with respect to the question posed.

   "Well, my friend," Jeremiahs begins philosophically.  "I think the king of that land across the sea will need to answer that.  But I will have to examine the goblet after we finish our repast to see if I am able to help.  I pray that I am."  He nods to the fool.

OOC - apologies for the delay in posting, but I was laid out for the past 4 days with a viral infection in my lungs (still got it, but not as bad).

Pedivere finishes his stew and nods to the hermit.  The matter is most urgent and secrecy has been demanded.  For those that poisoned the King's ally are likely to attempt our failure.  The Chalice bears only a small portion of the poison", he continues, whilst fetching the cloth wrapped bundle from his pack.

Carefully, the young knight removes the cloth revealling a golden chalice, slightly smudged on the inside with a greasey residue.  "Here", the knight indicates the smudge, "is what remains of the vile assassin's attempt at murder."

The knight softly wraps the chalice back in the cloth and hands it to the hermit.  "No other apothecary has yet been able to identify the substance, and as such no antedote has thus been made.  I do not know the condition of the King's ally, only that all speed must be made."

Colm raises his eyebrow and shrugs his shoulders slightly.  It was, after all, a very honorable answer.  Fair enuff' good sir.  Thankin' the good lerd' for our blessins is certainly a life long occupation.    he said sincerely.

Colm, still draining the dregs of his stew, glares over the top of his bowl at the chalice as if it were a hated living thing that could jump at him in an instant.  Swallowing the last of his meal, he spits on the ground in disgust at the sight of the poisoned challace.  His normally cheerful face turns dark and grimm.  Only a dammed (OCC:  I assume this site has a net nanny or can I spell bad words correctly?) coward wud' use such a thin'.  Firs' we mus' make wit' God's speed to brin' this annedote to the afflicted, then I aimta rut out this foul traitor.  I've an arrow with 'is name onnit.  The word traitor comes from his mouth like venom from the mouth of a spitting cobra.

  Riding up in a woman of some station by her dress and bearing on a fine mare bred for fighting on who wears the holy symbol of the Goddess in Silver. "Good Jeremiah I have those herbs you needed from my stores when you get Mandrake Root you can give me some as a trade." Getting off her horse a wolf runs up and looks like it may attack her until it plays against her clearly tamed. "Excuse me I didn't see a knight among your guests,"courtsies modestly as to a peer in rank,"I'm Lady Maeve Rryn eldest child of Sir Edward Rryn who holds some lands in Wales across the border pleases to make your acquaintence Sir Knight." Is a Pagan noble but one with some learning perhaps time at the Royal Court when younger. To the others,"I'm a druidess in service to the Goddess and to my people Jeremiah was my teacher in herbs and the healing arts." Petting the wolf,"This is Mara my beloved companion."

Fr. Rys bows to Lady Maeve Rryn

Good day m'Lady. In the name of God I greet you. How goes it with you this day?

  "Good day father its not bad but if your here there must be some important reason is someone ill?" Clearly knows the hermit is skilled in such arts even beyond her arts. "Perhaps my magic could be of help I have many potent charms of power to treat the ill."