Inside the town of Calarn, Tyronius, Aerendir and Marabir have been locked in an empty wine cellar beneath 'The Grey Stallion'. There are no windows to the large, stone room, and the only light comes from a pair of torches in sconces which are fixed on either side of the sturdy oak door which flicker and cast a slight haze about the stuffy room.

Marabir lies on a couple of moth eaten fur cloaks which have seem to suffice for a bed, while Aerendir sits with his back against the stone wall beside him. Tyronius paces back and forth down the length of the room, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

It is at this moment that Marabir coughs and stirs, wincing as he opens his eyes blearily and attempts to look about him.

"Where am I?" he asks weakly.

Tyronius narrows his eyes as he glances over at his awakened brother. He makes no effort to answer Marabir's question, however, and continues his pacing.

"In a cellar prison cell devoid of food thanks to a certain someone getting held hostage," Aerendir says crushingly.

Marabir doesn't seem to have a response to this.

"Ah," he says, rather flatly as he sinks back into his blankets, staring at the dimly lit roof above him. After a moment he reaches a hand into his bandaged tunic and breaths a sigh of relief, which ends in a few weak coughs. He pushes himself up a few moments later once more, glancing about the room again.

"Tyronius," he says with mild surprise, "You're here. What happened?"

Tyronius pauses in his pacing to fix Marabir with a particularly unimpressed glare.

"You happened."

Marabir does not seem particularly perturbed either by his brother's tone or his expression. Pushing himself up to sit with his back propped against the wall beside Aerendir, he glances about the room in more detail.

"There must be some way out of here," he says optimistically.

Tyronius rolls his eyes and returns to his pacing.

Ignoring his brother, Marabir turns to Aerendir.

"What are your thoughts?"

"My thoughts are also that you happened. Try to rest while we have that luxury instead of looking for exits when you can barely sit up so that you do not happen twice."

Marabir winces but makes no sign of lying back down.

"What happened to Falnis?" he asks after a moment.

"Skulking around somewhere I assume. Hopefully not murdering Thanian noblewomwomen or tricking them into giving him their hunting lodges," Aerendir says critically.

Marabir frowns.

"I take it he and Lady Veldorn did not return?"

"They did not," Tyronius says at length, "However her uncle did with an army. I suppose it is not difficult to surmise who may have informed him of our presence in these parts."

Marabir gives a dark grunt of agreement.

Aerendir also grunts in dark agreement.

"All the more reason," says Marabir at length, pulling himself up against the wall, "for us to find a way out of here."

"There is no way out," Tyronius replies dampeningly, "No trapdoors or windows. That door is the only way in or out, and likely has Veldorn's army guarding it. Our best bet is for you to rest and await a better opportunity to present itself."

Marabir frowns.

"How did her uncle acquire an army? From what I understood he had a small band of hired thugs in his employ."

"That, we don't yet know. But mercenaries take more than a day to organize which means he either hired them long before we showed up or he has a private army. I'm not up on Thane's laws, are nobles even allowed to have private armies?"

"Those were certainly not all mercenaries," Tyronius asserts darkly, "And yes, some lords do possess such armies, especially in these northern lands. However Veldorn is not one such lord. And he isn't even a lord. Someone must be backing him. And someone powerful at that. I suspect," he lowers his voice slightly, "the Caladormists."

"Caladormists?" Marabir frowns, "I know not all the lords of Hyrond have a love for the Carendils, but surely they wouldn't dare to openly wage war against us."

"Their sympathies run deep in these parts," Tyronius replies grimly. "And they have been becoming more belligerent of late. Calvorn was fretting over them for most of our journey up here."

"Typical Caladormist behaviour. First they whine Carendils don't care enough about the rights of their subjects. Then they work with a worm like Veldorn threatening helpless women and kidnapping children and joining forces with the varim," Aerendir says contemptuously.

Marabir still doesn't look convinced.

"I still don't see how they could have organised themselves for war. We have powerful lords in these parts like Borandis and Ravalor. They would have noticed something."

"Be that as it may, these men are not simply a bunch of Veldorn's mercenaries," Tyronius replies firmly. "This is a rebellion."

"Which obviously makes being in their cellar a bigger problem. We could always do 'get help' I suppose..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:36, Mon 06 Mar 2023.

Aerendir receives two reproving glares for this comment.

"This is your fault, you know," Tyronius turns to Marabir, "Just because you do not want to marry the princess of Morne does not mean you have to run of into the heart of Caladormist territory."

Marabir meets his gaze evenly.

"Our realms are a long way off arranging a marriage, I assure you," he replies. "But that isn't why I snuck out of Carendisal."

"Oh?" says Tyronius, raising an eyebrow. "Then why in Verun did you leave?"

Marabir pauses, eyeing his brother for a moment before sighing, and reaching into his tunic to withdraw a crumpled letter, now stained with blood, sweat and mud.

Tyronius eyes the letter dubiously, but at length takes the proffered piece of parchment, scanning it before reading it aloud.

"'Marabir. There is more to your mother's death than you know. Dark forces are at work. Meet me at dusk on the 7th of Midfall at the ranger's lodge in the Helard Woods. Trust no one. Not Morfion. Not Vard. Red glows the sun and sapphire the sea.' And there is no signature," he finishes, looking unimpressed as he glances up at Marabir. "Who gave you this?"

"I found it tucked under my quilt on the evening I departed," Marabir replies, extending a hand for the letter once more. "I have no idea who placed it there."

"Probably the Caladormists," Tyronius surmises darkly, not returning the letter as he scans it once more. "Or perhaps someone attempting to sour our relations with Morne."

Marabir shakes his head.

"That phrase. 'Red glows the sun and sapphire the sea'. Our mother used to sing that song to us when we were children."

Tyronius raises an eyebrow.

"I have no memory of any songs."

"Perhaps you were too young," Marabir replies, before chanting softly. "'Red glows the sun and sapphire the sea, when the battle is won and the heart is set free.'"

"I see why you never became a bard," Tyronius shoots back cuttingly.

"I can always count on you for encouragement," Marabir quips back.

"So someone happens to know a song our mother used to sing," Tyronius shrugs. "A very dubious reason to trust them over Morfion and Aglorn Vard, two of our father's most loyal lords. And if you trust this dubious individual so much, why did you bring Aerendir, Morfion's brother, along on your escapade?"

"Well, I trust Aerendir," Marabir replies, attempting to fold his arms and deciding against it with a wince. "He has saved my life on more than one occasion. Besides, I am sure he is as interested in discovering if his brother is hiding something as any of us."

"I'm right here, you do realise?" Aerendir says sourly.

"Indeed," agrees Marabir. "And what are your thoughts on this letter?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:55, Mon 06 Mar 2023.

"What? About an anonymous letter with no evidence or proof saying please run off into Caledormist territory without any bodyguards and don't trust anyone who can send competent guards with you like my brother?" Aerendir sniffs.

Tyronius sends Aerendir an approving nod, before glancing back to Marabir.

"Well, you two can refuse to see the proof if you wish," Marabir sniffs, wincing as he gingerly pulls himself up. "But I did take you with me, Aerendir. And I can handle myself."

"So you have proven," mutters Tyronius as he passes the letter back to Marabir and resumes his pacing.

"Split that side of yours open again and I will throttle you," Aerendir says grimly, glaring balefully at Marabir's side.

Marabir pauses, eying Aerendir for a moment before sighing and seating himself once more.

"What is today's date?" he asks, after a moment.

"You are not still thinking of going to that ranger's lodge," Tyronius shoots back firmly. "The moment we find a way to escape we are going straight back to Carendisal."

"But we are almost there," Marabir reasons. "You don't feel the slightest bit of curiosity about our mother's death?"

"Our mother died in childbirth. Nothing curious about that," Tyronius responds flatly.

Aerendir grunts approvingly as Marabir seats himself again

"Aerendir," Marabir turns his attention to the elf. "When we departed on this quest I asked you to trust me. I need you to do so still. I could be wrong-"

"You are wrong," asserts Tyronius

"-but I need to see this through," finishes Marabir, ignoring his brother. "If there is even a chance there is truth to this, I must know."

"I certainly trust you are going to sneak off alone if I don't go with you and get yourself killed, since you can't be trusted even to stay behind a barricaded door when explicitly told you need to," Aerendir says pointedly, glaring at Marabir's side. "Obviously if you absolutely must go then I am going to go with you, even if it is a bad idea and a completely unnecessary quest. My brother's orders are to keep you safe and do what you tell me to, not to make sure you use your common sense. That doesn't mean I like the fact that you are trusting random letters and suspecting my brother when my brother and myself have been serving Thane for years."

Tyronius sighs.

"Let us focus on escaping first, before we jump to decisions about where we will go once we are free. And it is the evening of the 5th of Midfall," he adds reluctantly after a pause.

If Aerendir is attempting to send Marabir on a guilt trip, he appears to be somewhat successful, as the prince frowns uncomfortably.

"I know Morfion has always been loyal to the Carendils, and I do trust him," he says, delicately. "I just... I just need to discover the truth."

Under the circumstances, a guilt trip is something Aerendir seems to feel Marabir thoroughly deserves. Closing his eyes as he sullenly leans back against the wall beside Marabir.

"Well, either way that is hardly a pressing decision at present."

A couple of hours pass. The torches burn lower until they are little more than embers, as the evening turns into night outside. Marabir lies down once more, and is in the midst of restless sleep when the there is a dull thud against the door outside, followed by a rattling of the lock. Tyronius halts in his pacing, glancing at Aerendir as he moves toward the door.

The door opens a moment later, and to their surprise the grizzled form of Calvorn enters, stepping lightly over the body of their door guard who lies across the hearth outside.

"Your highness," Calvorn bows to Tyronius. "It is good to see you alive."

"Calvorn?" Tyronius responds incredulously as he moves swiftly toward the doorway. "How did you...?"

"Escape? Locate you? Break into the city?" Calvorn summarises with a rare smile. "I confess I had help."

With this he gestures to the cloaked form of Falnis who crouches in the shadows behind him.

"Alas, how the mighty have fallen," Falnis says, looking amused, but making sure Calvorn stays firmly between himself and both princes and Aerendir.

"...You are working with him?" Aerendir sneers incredulously. "He's a varim, Calvorn. He is probably the one who set all this up in the first place."

"Yes, I knew you would be pleased," Calvorn replies dryly. "But he has been true to his word thus far, and aside from costing a considerable amount of coin, has proved very fortunate to have around."

"Someone informed our captors of our presence in these parts," Tyronius replies evenly, not looking at all impressed by the situation. "And where is Caled?"

"Indeed. I see your point. Certainly, they needed a varim to do that. They couldn't possibly have worked it out just because a squad of 20-plus knights was riding north calling their leader 'Your Highness,'" Falnis arches an eyebrow. "As for our esteemed Sir Caled, he is on his way to save you. I imagine he will find the right direction to do that eventually."

Tyronius scowls at Dalmar.

"Yes, Falnis and I took a shortcut," Calvorn quickly breezes over this part. "Anyway, we should continue this conversation once we are safely out of here. Is he well enough to move?" he adds with a glance at Marabir's sleeping form.

The judgmental glare Aerendir sends Calvorn says exactly what the high elf thinks of 'shortcuts' taken with varim.

"Technically. He can walk, but not easily, and I am concerned his side may re-open if he does things like run or ride. If we leave, we will also void our promise-- such as it was-- to not be harmed for one week, so if we try to escape, we cannot afford to fail in doing so. Is the path out clear?"

"Clearish," Calvorn asserts, eying Marabir grimly. "There is an escape route which we can take, but it will involve climbing down a section of the wall. I suppose it is too much to hope that you know some form of healing magic?" the ranger directs at Falnis.

"He isn't going anywhere near my brother," Tyronius asserts firmly.

"I mean, naturally, as a simple hunter, one comes prepared in case of hunting accidents--" Falnis fishes around inside a concealed pocket for a tiny bottle of shimmering blue liquid. "We varim, after all, do not enjoy oozing in bed for weeks with injuries when magic exists, should some Thanian boar happen to wound us. However," Falnis rolls the small vial gently back and forth between two fingers, temptingly, "even for myself, Gothin is not easy to obtain. In short, it is expensive. I assume price will be no issue, however, for one so plentifully supplied with pouches of gems in your boots as yourself? I do accept IOUs if you have run out..."

The varim's gaze flicks over to Tyronius.

"Assuming, of course, that you are willing to let your brother drink. I can assure you, however, that Gothin is a simple healing potion, brewed by qualified professionals, and is perfectly safe."

Tyronius frowns at the liquid mistrustfully, clearly feeling that potion brewers and professionals are mutually exclusive terms.

"You didn't think to mention you had a healing potion on hand when we were all in the tent yesterday?" Calvorn grumbles darkly.

"Come, come, Calvorn, there's no need to be petty. You know perfectly well too that yesterday, you would not have paid me so much as a geld for this. These potions do not cost me nothing, you know, and it is not like His Highness was going to die if he did not get it."

Calvorn does not seem to be able to deny Falnis' statement, and contents himself with a peeved glare at the varim.

"All right, given the urgency of current predicament, why don't we just skip to the part where you tell us how much this additional service is going to cost us?"

"10,000 carens," Falnis says, showing no guilt at all about naming such a staggering (indeed, exploitative) sum.

"5,000 carens," Calvorn counters flatly. "We're desperate, not deranged."

"Stingy of you. But very well. Under the circumstances, I will be understanding if the Royal Budget is stretched. Up front, or IOU?" Falnis extends a hand expectantly.

"As you know, you have cleared out my gemstone supply. However, I am sure that Tyronius would be willing to authorise such a debenture for the life of his brother and future king of Thane...?" Calvorn replies, glancing questioningly at Tyronius.

Tyronius' lip curls as he considers the proposal.

"Assuming this supposed potion actually works," Tyronius allows at length. "Kill my brother, varim, and I will hold you personally responsible."

Falnis accepts both gems, securing them in a pouch.

"Wonderful. Save him, and I am sure you will also hold me personally responsible and be suitably grateful to me, being the consistent and fair human all Thanian nobles of course are."

With this, the varim rises and pads soundlessly over to Marabir's sleeping form. With the air of someone who has experience in this, Falnis tilts Marabir's head up (not without an apologetic murmur to Tyronius and Aerendir, who Falnis also keeps a wary eye on while he does this) and pours a small sip of the blue liquid into the prince's mouth.

Job done, Falnis steps back, watching expectantly

For a moment nothing happens. Then a series of dark blue lines begin to snake their way up Marabir's veins, first appearing at his neck and then moving swiftly up across his face his hands.

"That's just the Gothin making it's way through his system," Calvorn assures him in the varim's defense. "I've seen it used once before. The stain disappears after a few hours."

"It had better," Tyronius replies dangerously.

A moment later Marabir gasps awake, coughing as he sits up and glances about. He seems to be fully alert and not at all in pain as he takes in the arrival of Calvorn and Falnis, blinking blankly for a moment before turning his attention to Aerendir.

"I take it I missed something?"

OOC: Marabir Carendil healed 16 wound points.

Aerendir grunts something noncommittally and certainly not gratefully to either Calvorn or Falnis.

"And speaking of missing things," Falnis says, smiling at Tyronius and Marabir and Aerendir expectantly. "Now you are awake, if I may ask: Where are my poisons?"

"I hardly think that's the priority right now, given a varim shouldn't have been walking around in Thane with poisons in the first place," Aerendir says cuttingly. "How are you feeling, Marabir? Because according to Calvorn, we are short on time and you are going to need to descend a wall."

Marabir sits up and lifts half of his bloodied and tattered shirt to examine his bandaged wound beneath. His eyes widen in surprise as he pulls back the bandage to reveal not even so much as a scar where his wound used to be, though his skin is still lined with the darkened blue veins.

"I feel... no pain at all," he says, climbing nimbly up, frowning down at his discoloured hands. "But will someone please tell me what is going on?"

"Falnis just administered a healing potion," Calvorn explains curtly.

"A rather expensive healing potion," Tyronius adds darkly. "So it would be appreciated if you did not rush off to get yourself sliced open again too swiftly."

"Not anywhere near as expensive as those poisons of mine, however," Falnis drifts back over to the door, peering out. "Which you will also be compensating me for, should that evasive answer of yours be another way of saying you have managed to misplace them. I am sure Calvorn here knows exactly much market rates are these days for four vials of Black Lotus Extract. Not to mention the potential political implications if anyone murders a Thanian with my poisons. You will all be required to vouch that it is you who took those poisons from me, should that happen, and you who lost them."

"You're exactly where you were before you fell asleep 3 hours ago," Aerendir takes pity on Marabir's bewildered state. "Calvorn has knocked out the door guard which saves me the trouble of doing that myself once someone got around to opening the door, and for reasons unknown to me has decided to hire the varim who probably landed us in this mess in the first place for his rescue mission."

"Yes, knocked out..." Calvorn repeats with a glance at slowly expanding pool of blood beneath the collapsed guard's throat. "And the discolouration will fade in a few hours," Calvorn adds impatiently to Marabir who continues to examine his darkened veins, clearly feeling the prince could do with a rearrangement of his priorities. "For now, we need to leave."

Tyronius has already moved forward to the doorway, scooping up the fallen guard's mace as he moves out into the narrow landing at the foot of the steep staircase outside. He gives the mace an experimental swing, frowning as he sends the weapon a distasteful glance. Still, he holds it at the ready as he begins to pick his way up the stairs.

Falnis moves silently after the prince.

Aerendir mutters something uncomplimentary about Vard's agents and the allies they choose to hire, waiting only until Marabir is upright before striding after Tyronius. He seems to trust that Calvorn will have no trouble bringing up the rear.

Marabir scowls at Tyronius as his brother appropriates the mace, contenting himself with the notched dagger that is the guard's only other weapon.

"I don't suppose we are going to attempt to retrieve our weapons on the way out?" he murmurs as he picks his way up the stairs.

"Not unless you feel like taking on Veldorn and fifty-odd guards," Calvorn murmurs back gruffly as he swiftly moves to the front of the procession. "Which we are not doing," he adds firmly, frowning at the glance the pair of princes share with each other. "We can always come back for them another day, or have new ones forged."

"Anyone would think you did not enjoy carting wounded princes around, Calvorn," Falnis says, sounding amused.

Tyronius ignores Falnis, though Marabir gives the desired reaction, shooting the varim a dirty look.

Calvorn for his part directs a reproving glance over his shoulder as he joins Tyronius at the top of the stairs, peering out into the empty service corridor above.

"Your highness, I propose Falnis and I scout ahead to ensure no guards are alerted on our way out. There are a series of alleyways which lead almost to the wall at the rear of the town and should conceal us for the most part once we are safely out of the tavern."

"Kill them, you mean?" Falnis checks, to be sure, seemingly feeling this is the only way any guards in the vicinity would not be alerted to the combined efforts of stealth of two human princes of Thane.

Calvorn gives a grim smile and a shrug.

"It does appear to be your speciality."

"Quite so," agrees Marabir darkly.

"I have several things I could say to you, Prince Marabir, given the sheer number of dead killed recently in these parts and how little I have had to do with any of them, but I shall-- with great difficulty-- restrain myself," Falnis says, virtuously if hypocritically given his probable involvement in that particular body's demise. "Shall I lead, Calvorn, or shall you?"

Calvorn extends a gracious hand for the varim to lead the way.

Tyronius shifts his gaze appraisingly from Calvorn to Falnis as they begin to creep forward, before sighing as he follows.

"Very well," he allows at length. "As you say, there will be ample opportunity to deal with this rabble once we are out of here."

Falnis proceeds to do so. One moment, he is there. The next, to all but the most keen-sighted, the varim seems to disappear into thin air, as he melts gracefully into the shadows.

OOC: Dalmar Argant rolled 35.  Move Silently Check.
Dalmar Argant rolled 39.  Hide Check.

"'A simple hunter' my foot," Aerendir scowls, watching where Falnis isn't sourly. "We'd best be moving, Your Highness. I back Calvorn. We will not be stopping for either of your swords."

OOC: Aerendir rolled 23. Spot Check.

Calvorn may not be able to see Falnis, but he does appear to be able to hear the varim as he follows silently behind, though he does not make as much of an effort to remain concealed.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan rolled 36. Spot Check.
Calvorn Areldan rolled 38. Listen Check.
Calvorn Areldan rolled 21. Hide Check.
Calvorn Areldan rolled 30. Move Silently Check.

Fortunately for the trio left behind, neither Tyronius nor Aerendir was blindfolded on the way here, and both seem to know which way the most likely escape route is from the vague description of "one which will require descending a wall." The trio make their way down the narrow, darkened service corridors, passing several branching corridors down which the sound of chatting and laughter can be heard. A darkened staircase leads up to their left, and further down a corridor leads to what they judge to be the kitchens, based on the clanking and shouting.

They don't see anyone, but they do spot a few suspiciously damp patches of wall that suggest that had they been by themselves, they might not have found these corridors quite so unfrequented.

In the end, the closest they come to being spotted is when a servant hurries in towards the kitchens (the rules for murdering servants clearly being slightly different to murdering professional thugs, based on the lack of action from the shadows). Fortunately for the servant's continued good health, his attention seems to be solely on the pail of water he is carrying, which is both heavy and extremely noisy, its rusty handle having clearly seen better days. He fails to notice either of the princes or Aerendir hiding in a side-room watching him pass (an achievement, give how much of both princes, and indeed Aerendir, is showing.)

At length, they reach a guards lounge where Calvorn and Falnis seem to be waiting for them. Calvorn seems to be disposing of a few dead guards into a convenient pair of barrels.

OOC: Caladormists rolled 8. Spot Check.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:04, Tue 07 Mar 2023.

"Very obliging of them to leave a pair of empty barrels here," Calvorn remarks as he slides their lids back into place.

"Indeed," Marabir agrees as he pauses the ranger in order to reach into one of the barrels and withdraw a worn but serviceable longsword, which he flourishes about experimentally. Satisfied, he places his appropriated dagger into the barrel and nods for Calvorn to continue in his efforts.

Falnis makes no effort at all to help Calvorn, satisfying himself with keeping watch.

"You may wish to steal his scabbard, too, if you are planning to climb holding that," Falnis says, gaze resting on the longsword, clearly feeling that if Marabir, like Caled, last climbed a tree at Erald's age, his climbing ability is going to be low enough with two hands without making it one.

"He can pass it to one of us after we have ascended the wall," Calvorn replies, with the air of someone who feels enough time has been wasted searching bodies in barrels in a room which could be entered at any time.

"Precisely," Marabir agrees, pleased to be able to dismiss any suggestion made by Falnis, as he begins to follow Calvorn over to the exit which leads out into a darkened courtyard beyond.

Calvorn glances out into the darkened courtyard, peering about the darkened garden for a moment before giving a satisfied nod. "Clear," in informs the others curtly before slipping through the door and stealing stealthily across the courtyard to pull himself nimbly up to crouch on the low, ivy covered stone wall which surrounds the courtyard.

The rest of the party follow, keeping to the shadows and steering clear of the light and laughter which flood out of a series of windows further down the building. Calvorn waits for the others to join him at the wall before leaping nimbly down into the gloomy alleyway beyond.

If Falnis is secretly hoping either of the princes botches their landing, this is something the varim is sensible enough not to voice.

If he indeed hoping for this, he is disappointed, as both the princes swing themselves athletically over the wall and begin to follow Calvorn through the alleyway beyond, doing their best not to bump into anything in the gloom. Once the laughter from the tavern fades, the streets are silent and empty. Calvorn leads the way confidently through the darkness as they turn left and right, keeping away from the main streets, aided by the light of the crescent moon in the cloudless sky above. A stray can hisses at them midway through their journey, and in the distant a dog barks, but aside from this their passing appears to go unnoticed and they do not meet any resistance. At length they reach the foot of the high stone wall which surrounds the town. Above them a pair of guards stand on duty, peering out into the darkness beyond the town. One coughs and stifles as yawn as the pair begin to pace slowly around to the left.

It's hard to tell if Falnis immediately follows, since it's hard to spot or hear the stealthy Falnis in the gloom, but they have not been waiting long at the foot of the wall before he steps out of the shadows.

One each, or shall I deal with both? the varim signs.

I'll leave you to work your magic, comes the response.

"What are they doing?" whispers Marabir, looking perplexed by the signing.

Tyronius doesn't respond, glancing up at the guards on the wall above as he patiently waits for the silent exchange to conclude.

Falnis seems to agree that given the stealth of Thanian humans, Calvorns choice is wise.

Stepping back, he seems to melt into the shadows. A few moments later-- and two soft thuds-- Falnis gestures gracefully for the humans to join him

Calvorn nods, satisfied as he climbs the wall, glancing about to ensure no one is watching before tying a rope about one of the battlements and proceeding to lower it for the princes to follow.

OOC: Calvorn Areldon rolled 16. Climb Check.
Calvorn Areldon rolled 17. Use Rope Check.

Tyronius tosses his mace up to Calvorn, who skillfully catches it the prince climbs the rope to pull himself up in the shadows beside the ranger.

OOC: Tyronius Carendil rolled 12. Climb Check.

Marabir seems to be in some kind of unspoken competition with his brother as he tosses up his own blade before beginning to climb at a faster speed than Tyronius. He is fortunate, and does not lose his footing, pulling himself up and looking pleased with himself as he glances about.

OOC: Marabir Carendil rolled 16. Climb Check.

Aerendir wastes no time in bringing up the rear, pulling the rope up after himself once he's up and immediately (and not without a suspicious glare at Falnis) wandering over to the other side to peer down.

OOC: Aerendir rolled 21. Climb Check.

Calvorn also glances over the far edge, peering down a gloomy slope below which leads onto the forest a hundred yards or so away. With a nod, he begins to slide the rope about the battlement so that it hangs over the far side.

"Let's go," he murmurs curtly.

Tyronius takes hold of the rope, climbing carefully down the wall once more to land on the wet, dewy grass below. He catches the mace which Calvorn tosses to him a moment later, as he presses himself against the wall, waiting for the others to join him.

OOC: Tyronius Carendil rolled 12. Climb Check.

Marabir once more appears to be competing with Tyronius, though he thinks better of it partway down as his left foot almost slips on a mossy stone, wisely deciding to slow his pace as he descends safely to the bottom.

OOC: Marabir Carendil rolled 12. Climb Check.

"Where are the horses, Calvorn?" Aerendir scowls, looking around and apparently failing to see any.

"Keep your voice down," Calvorn murmurs back. "We could hardly conceal the horses so close to town. They are with our allies in a hollow on the other side of that hill up there."

"Speaking of horses, where is Cyralas?" Marabir inquires, frowning in concern as he remembers his stallion for the first time.

"In the stables where you left him, probably. I doubt the Caledormists want to add 'horse theft' to their attempted murder and regicide charges," Aerendir replies, also ignoring Calvorn's advice to remain quiet.

Thanian knights have such a unique grasp of phrases like 'be stealthy' and 'keep your voice down,' Falnis signs.

Calvorn sends Falnis a longsuffering glance.

"The only horses they have are mine and a few of my knights," Tyronius confirms impatiently, "all of which can be easily replaced upon our return to Carendisal."

"I'm sure that Taurus will be pleased to learn that he means so much to you," Marabir responds darkly. "Cyralas had better be still in that stable, and not stuck plowing the field of some hapless farmer..."

"We'll have plenty of time to discuss horses once we are away from here," Calvorn murmurs sternly. Advancing to peer cautiously back at the wall above them before giving a nod and signalling for the party to advance.

Thus abjured, the party sensibly begin to pick their way away from the wall and into the light mist which grows thicker as they move toward the forest. Calvorn glances back warily as Marabir stumbles on the slippery grass, narrowly avoiding cutting himself on the blade he carries as he catches himself. Tyronius also appears to struggle in his plate armour as he attempts to pick his way up the steep embankment at the foot of the hill leading to their companions.

OOC: Tyronius Carendil rolled 10.  Balance Check (DC12).
Marabir Carendil rolled 6.  Balance Check (DC12).
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:13, Tue 07 Mar 2023.

"Have you ever considered getting either of Their Highnesses a pair of ice grip boots?" Falnis-- who is already at the top of the embankment, a place the varim appears to have reached with an insulting lack of difficulty-- says unhelpfully, making no effort to give either prince a hand. "I have several relatives who swear by them. I am sure for the right price, I could get hold of a supplier."

Calvorn is perhaps the only one who knows the kind of boots Falnis references, which have spikes on the bottom which-- while more than one ambassadorial quarters garner has lamented is terrible for Thanian lawns-- nevertheless grips extremely well on all surfaces, from rock to earth to ice.

OOC: Dalmar Argant rolled 20. Balance Check (DC 12).
This message was last edited by the player at 08:30, Tue 07 Mar 2023.

"Have you ever considered how you would look with an arrow through your chest?" Aerendir sneers sourly, cursing as Marabir nearly stabs himself.

OOC: Aerendir rolled 21. Balance Check (DC 12).

"I'm fine," Marabir says quickly, picking himself up and continuing his climb without making eye contact with either Aerendir or his brother. He doesn't seem to know or care what I've boots are, and is the last to eventually make it to the top of the hill, where he stands, panting for a moment as he glances back across the misty field below to where the lights of Calarn are barely visible through the fog. "Well, not a bad escape, all things considered."

"I believe the word you're searching for is 'rescue', Your Highness," Calvorn grunts darkly. "Now we had best be going, before even a man of Galnor's intellectual capacity works out you're gone."

With that, he begins to stride through the trees and into the hollow below.

OOC: End of Chapter VII...