(OOC: Well, I got one success. Looks like I at least avoided stomping on your toes.
Sir Gerod Angrave rolled 7 using 4d2 with rolls of 2,2,2,1.)

Torah held Gerod's shoulders firmly, but shot him a smile regardless.

"Whoah, come down from the clouds Gerod... for Sir Gawain is no ordinary knight.  If you intend to best him, it will take many bruising hours."

The comment about her being swamped by Knights and Gerod's intention to protect her from them... was likewise amusing.

"They might be renowned heroes, but I'm no starry eyed maid.  I won't forget you."

Otherwise she didn't seem to mind Gerod's dancing.

Sir Gerod and Torah set the example for the rest of Angrave's court, and by the dance's successful conclusion merry applause punctuated by toasts and well-wishes reverberated throughout the old hall.

The merry-making continued well into the night, and the servants who awakened before the dawn to tend to their chores discovered more than one reveler still slumped in their seats at the long tables, snoring away. All agreed that the evening had been one to remember, even those who had to reflect upon it with spotty memories or through wretched hangovers.


Clouds laid upon the ocean's horizon at dawn, illuminated brilliantly by the rising sun. There were few clouds higher in the deepening blue sky, and scarcely a breeze as the drawbridge of Castle Angrave was lowered. A noble procession, fresh from taking morning mass and breaking fast together, rode forth across the bridged moat -- foamy seawater crashing between the rocky walls beneath them -- and descended from the castle into the surrounding village. Peasants followed after the parade of liveried horses, enjoying the colorful sight before they had to return to the more mundane pruning and weeding work of the day.

Lord and Lady Angrave accompanied their son and his companion to the wharves, where fishermen and sailors stood back and tugged their forelocks or bowed and scraped. The portly middle-aged Lord Varrick, Sir Eogan, who had talked off Torah's ear about boats the night before, awaited Sir Aedric and his family upon the dock. Next to him stood a man in a pale blue woolen tunic and brilliant scarlet cloak, with a necklace of amber about his brown throat. Beneath the amber, two tokens dangled from simple leather thongs strung from his neck: a Christian cross and a Norse hammer.

"This is Dragan," Sir Eogan announced as the procession arrived. "A man wedded to the North Sea, a true son of Neptune himself. I measure him as bold and capable a sailor as any I've ever met, and I should know, being a bit of a seaman myself."

"You flatter me, Lord Varrick," Dragan said in a noticeable Occitanian accent, following a bow before Sir Aedric. "I am but a humble merchant who has made many voyages to the north. May God grant me many more."

Sir Eogan carried on, gesturing in a grand sweep of his hand toward the square-sailed knarr lashed to the dock. "This ship is a fine vessel, sturdy and quick. She will see you safely south of Caledonia, I warrant you." He smoothed his mustache and winked at Sir Gerod and Torah. "I've an eye for these things. I might have been a shipwright in another life."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:49, Wed 14 Apr 2021.

Dragan gave a respectful nod to Sir Gerod. "My men and I await you at your leisure, Sir Knight. At your word we shall secure your belongings and ensure your horses are steadied for the voyage."

Sir Gerod dismounted from his horse in one smooth motion as Sir Eogan introduced them to the captain of the vessel. His armor, along with most of his personal clothing and possessions, had been carefully stored in a sea chest for the voyage, but Gerod still wore his sword-belt with the sword and dagger resting upon opposite hips. His shield hung by a strap from the high canted pommel of his saddle. Unlike his fine festival clothing from the night before today he was now dressed more simply in a knee length green tunic with yellow hemlines. A sturdy pair of brown leggings keep his calves warm in the colder northern climate while thick leather riding boots adorn his feet. His deep green cloak is wrapped about his shoulders with a sturdy bronze brooch securing it at his left breast.

"Captain Dragan," Gerod smiles at the man and extends his hand out to clasp the captain's own in greeting. "I am pleased to see that this journey will begin aboard such a fine vessel." He gestures towards Torah, "This is Torah, my friend and companion. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Torah," Dragan said, offering a courteous bow to the blonde bard, making his necklaces clink one against the other. "We are well-met." He regarded the knight with a broad smile. "The pleasure is mine, Sir Gerod. We will be honored to have the company of a knight and his companion aboard."

He turned briefly to wave his men over, and at this gesture, the sailors cleared the way for Sir Gerod's horse to be brought across the gangplank and came to collect any baggage he might have for them. Looking to Sir Gerod for permission, they gathered around his sea chest to heft it up and carry it aboard to be stowed.

"Though the wind is not strong this day," Dragan continued, "our oarsmen will serve until we can catch a breeze in our sail. I believe this fine weather will hold, and even if it does not, we will not need to drift out of sight of the shore. I expect our voyage to be an easy one."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:49, Thu 15 Apr 2021.

Moving through the assembled crowd, Lord Marrondale stepped forward. He had been a guest at the revels the night previous, though his conversations had kept him from much interaction with Sir Gerod or Torah. Now he made his presence known to the young man by first addressing his father.

"Old friend," he began, "if I may? I should like to offer a parting gift to your son, to bring him luck on his voyage."

Sir Aedric smiled and nodded. "Generous as ever, Blaiyse. You have always been a true friend of Angrave. Of course."

Sir Blaiyse, lord of Marrondale, approached Sir Gerod and Torah. With a brief glance and smile of acknowledgment to the young woman, he regarded Sir Gerod with a wistful sigh. "Too soon they grow to manhood, these sons of ours. It is the burden of the old to watch them fly the nest, and we can do little but offer our prayers for their safety as they take wing into an uncertain world."

He reached out to his side, and a servant stepped forward to hand him a small wooden box. Marrondale unclasped the latch and opened its lid, withdrawing a talisman on a gold chain; the image of a man bearing an infant on his back, wrought in brilliant red and green garnet cloisonné inlay, adorned its face as it gleamed in the morning sunlight.

"Saint Christopher," Marrondale said as he placed the talisman around Sir Gerod's neck. "To see you safely to Camelot." In a quieter voice, meant only for the two of them, he added, "and if he does not serve you, the garnets in that bauble are worth enough silver to see you through."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:04, Thu 15 Apr 2021.

Torah had dressed down for the voyage, wearing a simple dress, gloves, and a woolen cloak.  When she discovered which boat had been arranged, she inwardly mused over the irony.

Of course, it is sir Eogan’s ship.  I’ve certainly heard enough about it, so perhaps last nights conversation wasn’t such a bad thing after all.  I’m glad to have stayed polite....

Torah wordlessly greeted Dragan with a courtsie and then set about stowing her things.  Her expression tightened when Lord Marondale presented Gerod with a good luck talisman.  Given his unproven link with the bandits, Torah suspected the gift was perhaps a means to mark Gerod for future attackers.  As soon as they were underway, she would encourage Gerod to stow it.

Sir Gerod smiled as Captain Dragan spoke of the journey ahead. He was only half listening as his mind was already wondering towards where their possessions were being loaded and he horse was being guided aboard. Then, blinking, he force his attention back to the captain. He tried to smile to cover his lapse. "I shall put myself in your care, good Captain. May I ask a question?"

Before he gets a chance he is interrupted by Sir Blaiyse. Gerod's young and innocent eyes widen when they see the St. Christopher medal that the man presented him. "Sir. Blaiyse, your friendship with my father has meant that at times you've been like an uncle to me. Now with this gift I feel blessed indeed. Thank you. I shall keep it close." Gerod gratefully accepts the gift and places it around his neck so that all might see and admire the gift of his father's friend. He remains completely oblivious to the way that Torah had reacted to Sir Blaiyse, as well as the way she looked at the St. Christopher medal.

"With that, I must bid you all a last farewell. Thank you, Father, Mother, Sir. Blaiyse, and all of you. Peace be with you all!" Sir Gerod turns back towards the ship, then stops, smiles and looks to Captain Dragan. "I nearly forgot. I understand that ships are often given names by their captains. May I inquire as to the name of your vessel, Captain Dragan?"

Dragan looked back at his ship at dock, and with a subtle but noticeable measure of pride, he said, "the Cormorant. She has served me and my crew well." With a respectful nod to Sir Eogan, he added, "thanks to Lord Varrick's gracious patronage."

Sir Eogan's chest puffed up and he beamed with gratification, glancing to either side of himself to make certain others heard the compliment.

Sir Blaiyse stepped back to stand beside Sir Eogan and allow Lord and Lady Angrave to approach their departing son. Each in their turn embraced the young man, whispering affection and prayers of safety as they did so. At last, having said their farewells, they allowed Sir Gerod to join Torah, Dragan, and the knight's stallion aboard the Cormorant.

Dragan called out his orders and his sailors tended to their tasks, pushing off from the dock and taking their places at the oars. A youthful coxswain sat at the stern and straddled a drum with his legs, beating a rhythm to row to. The sailors pulled on their oars in unison, propelling the merchant ship into deeper, darker waters.

Sir Gerod and Torah watched their home recede as the Cormorant began her voyage. The crowd of well-wishers remained to see them off, but folk slowly departed from the company to tend to the day's responsibilities until only Lord and Lady Angrave remained with their servants. At last Dame Heledd raised one hand to wave a final farewell. Then her husband shepherded her back toward squat, black Castle Angrave perched upon its rocky promontory above the village.

Eventually, a passing breeze caught up the Cormorant's square sail, making it flutter until it could be angled to catch the wind. The sail billowed and snapped to its fullness, and the men withdrew their oars and set to other various tasks about the merchant knarr.

Sir Gerod remained towards the rear of the ship for as long as his parents were in sight. He gazed back at them with a fondness and joy which failed to fully acknowledge that this might be the last time he would see them. He could feel the cool wind of home blowing upon his face and making his unruly hair shift about. He touched a hand to the St. Christopher medal he now wore about his neck and smiled.

When wind finally caught the vessel Sir Gerod grinned like a squire with his first lance. He turned away from hearth and home. Away from childhood and youth, he instead turned towards the bow of the ship and the uncertain future. As he walked the length of the vessel he stopped to check on his horse, Hermes. Having satisfied himself that his steed was well cared for he turned his attention back towards the bow.

With youthful enthusiasm he clambered as far off the bow as he could holding onto a rope to steady himself, then stood there with the spray and wind buffeting him in equal measure. One hand shaded his eyes as he keenly scanned the land around them, as well as the horizon ahead. "Camelot, here I come." He spoke softly, and grinned from ear to ear.

Unlike Gerod, Torah did not look back... instead she looked forward from the Cormorant's bow.  She'd said her goodbyes last night.  No doubt she'd feel a 'longing' in the future... but Torah's mind was on getting Gerod (and Sir Kay's message) to Camelot as safely as possible.  She spoke up when Gerod straddled out to the water's edge.

"Don't fall off, Gerod... I'm not getting wet to fish you back up."

Despite her mischievous grin, Torah was lying.  She would jump in to save Gerod, even if there were sharks in the water.  However she didn't want Gerod taking foolish chances just because he had her backing.

"Your new 'necklace' is pretty, but I'd prefer you not to wear it openly.  Don't forget what we know of Lord Marondale.  I suspect it might be a target, so wear it with care."

Gerod frowned as Torah spoke of the necklace and her suspicions. He looked away from the coastline to meet her eyes with his own open honest expression. "I confess that I still find it hard to imagine that a loyal friend to my father could be so involved in such schemes. Perhaps we were mistaken?" He smiled and shook his head, "Still, if it pleases you, I'll conceal the charm for now." Suiting actions to words he reaches one hand up and tucks the St. Christopher medal into the front of his tunic so it is out of sight. "There, safe and sound until this evening when I can return it to my trunk."

"The Cormorant seems to be a fine vessel indeed." Gerod continued. "By this evening I think this will be the furthest South I have ever been." He looks over at Torah, and asks, "Do you ever miss it? The land you came from?"

Torah replied back... with a question.  She sounded a little wistful, but it was tempered with the fact that all thoughts were mere theory.  She wasn’t going ‘home’ any time soon.  Were the people she knew still alive?

“I do miss them a little, but now that I am older... would I really be happy there and would I find acceptance?”

While she could understand Gerod’s reluctance to think the worst of Lord Marondale, Torah could not allow her guard to be lowered.  If the man meant ill for her friend, he would not have it easy.

“How do you feel about burned dinners and hard earth to sleep upon?  I can’t imagine we will find lodgings each night on the road to Camelot...”

As the two passengers conversed, Dragan moved about the Cormorant, tending to tasks and minor commands as needed. He was a fair master, it seemed, and he shared camaraderie with his men that eased those tensions that might arise due to the gap in their stations. They worked together diligently, though now that they were well underway, chores were few. Some of the men fell to talking with one another or dicing with knucklebones.

Dragan, however, squinted as he looked into the distance behind them. After a moment, he roused his men from their leisure and put them back to work.

Hermes sensed the rising tension in the air and whinnied nervously, tossing his head.

"Look there, do you see?" Dragan asked Sir Gerod and Torah, interrupting their conversation. "We are being followed."

They could, indeed, see a ship dark on the water far behind them, in the direction Dragan pointed. Neither could recall having seen the ship a few minutes ago.

"They must have come from a cove or inlet. And I did not see any ships at anchor, so I must assume they took pains to conceal themselves from us as we passed them.

"I do not suppose they are any of your people?"

As the import of Dragan's message struck home Sir Gerod's attitude and expression shifted into something far more serious. Gone was the excited passionate youth. Present now was the serious minded warrior assessing his surroundings and weighing options. His eyes narrowed as he swung himself back onto the solid deck. "I think if my father had intended an escort I'd have been told about it." He unconsciously tested the sword in its scabbard at his left hip to make sure it could be easily drawn.

"Captain, I suspect that these are pirates, or worse. I'll go don my armor so I'm ready to help defend your ship." Beginning to walk away, Gerod stopped. "Torah, if you're willing, I could use some help in putting it on quickly."

Torah didn't know if the pursuing ship had anything to do with Lord Marondale, but she certainly entertained the possibility.  At Gerod's request for help, she nodded in agreement.

"Always be prepared.  I just need to check on my instrument first..."

Finding her Rebec, Torah took the message Lady Angrave had given her and slipped it inside.  She did have to briefly remove a string, but felt safer if the message was hidden.  Only then did she return to Gerod and help him with the rest of his armor... mostly securing straps and shifting plates to better hug his frame.

"If a fight breaks out, where do you want me Gerod?  By your side or out of harms way..."

Gerod nodded his head as they worked on getting his armor to rest comfortably around his body. First, he threw on the thickly padded gambeson without taking the time to remove his traveler's tunic first. This was then tied in place at his neck and sides. His legs are covered by thick cloth padding that is likewise tied to the leather belt around his waist.

From there the chain chausses are pulled over the padding on his legs. He stamped his feet in order to settle them into the leather soled chain boots that are part of the chausses. The leather ties attached to the top of the chausses are quickly tied to the front and back of his belt.

The next part of his armor was the chain hauberk that goes on over his head and shoulders like a tunic, and leather thongs at the neck must be tied in order to close the gap around his neck. Over this his tabard was worn to display his coat of arms, with the chain coif covering his head and offering double protection to his shoulders. Then, he picks up his plumed helm and sword.

He looked at Torah as she asked the question. His expression is serious, "I doubt that there will be any place here that is out of harms way. Watch me back, please." Then he smiles at her. "So much for a safer route South."

Then, with his helmet still held under his arm, Sir Gerod returns to the deck of the ship to see how close their pursuers have come.

Dragan stood upon the stern of the Cormorant, squinting into the distance to observe the ship behind them.

"She is a sleek craft," he mused grimly. "Running shallower in the water than us. They will catch us."

He turned to Sir Gerod, and seeing him for the first time outfitted in his mail, he nodded approvingly, despite its age and wear. "You make a formidable sight, Sir Gerod," he said. "I hope that the sight of an armed and armored knight may shake the will of some of these pirates.

"Though I fear the worst," he continued, returning his gaze to the trailing ship. "In these far northern waters, there are two great dangers among men. The first are the Norsemen, of which I do not think these dogs are made. They do not have the look of them to me.

"Which leaves the second danger. Queen Margawse's men prowl the seas so close to the Orkneys. King Lot may be buried, but his widow is made of the same stern stuff as he was, and she has never forgiven King Arthur for his death. Any swearing fealty to the Pendragon makes himself her hated foe." He spoke the truth -- both Sir Gerod and Torah knew well the enmity of Queen Morgawse of the Orkney Isles toward the knights who held the northern fiefs in Arthur's name. Worse, the ruler of Caithness, the Pictish kingdom which bordered them to the south, was little more than a puppet dancing to Morgawse's tune.

Dragan continued to speak with the eerie emotional distance of a man reciting a tale he'd heard by the campfire, but keeping his voice low enough so that only Sir Gerod and Torah could hear. He did not want to add to the fears of his men, but judging by their grim expressions as they silently toiled, they had been told the same tales as he.

"Queen Margawse is said to be a sorceress, ruling her islands with darkness, drawing upon mysterious powers no man can fathom without imperiling his soul. I am not certain if it is better to be slain by her men or taken captive to be subjected to her tender mercies." He glanced at the two passengers. "But I have no desire to die."

It was difficult to tell whether he meant that last statement as a declaration of defiance or admission to thoughts of treachery.

It was a slow torment, being unable to do more than watch helplessly as the pursuing ship gradually closed the distance between them. Without archers or ballistae, all the men could do was tend to their sailing, trying to catch the wind as best they could to delay the inevitable. Dragan would not waste his men's strength on manning the oars for what would merely offer a momentary respite. It was not unlike watching sand draining through an hourglass, but heightened by the knowledge that when the sand ran out, lives would be ended. Tedium tempered with growing terror.

The ship grew nearer and nearer. Hermes stamped his hooves on the deck and pulled at the ropes that bound him, snorting in anxious anticipation. At the last, as the sailors could make out the features of the rough, unshaven men who plotted their demise, the pirate ship began to draw alongside the Cormorant. Steel was drawn, teeth were bared, and battle cries were given fierce, savage voice.

The pirates were upon them!
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:11, Tue 27 Apr 2021.

Keeping a solid stance is important when fighting. It prevents the knight from being pushed or knocked prone. It can also help them avoid getting flanked. These thoughts were foremost on Gerod's mind as he took up a position towards the stern of the little ship. His feet were placed slightly more than shoulder-width apart as he held his sword in two hands.

Thinking those thoughts was one thing. Putting them into practice was something else. Especially when the 'ground' you were standing on happened to be the constantly moving deck of a small ship. However, the green plumed knight did his best to prevent his face from matching his feather.

Trying to keep Torah to his back he faced down the first pair of pirates that charged towards him. His eyes took in their rough clothing, their unshaven heads, and the crazed look in their faces. "Cowards! Attacking a ship in this way! Who do you serve?!" He shouted at his assailants as he swung his sword in a wide arc trying to nick one of them in the leading leg. He needed to even the odds for the sailors of the Cormorant.

(OOC: Sir Gerod Angrave rolled 9d2 with rolls of 2,2,1,1,1,2,2,2,1.  Combat Roll with 4 heads.)

Battle was still something new to Torah.  Apart from some childhood scuffles and the encounter with the 'Margrave' bandits, everything she knew was just rudimentary training and things observed from Gerod's practice.  Showing fear wasn't going to do her any good, so she tapped into her pride.  She wouldn't let Gerod down!

Holding her sword in one hand, Torah took up a wet mop in the other.  She twirled her off hand 'weapon' at the pirates, trying to splash deck water in their faces while seeking to stab them in the legs.  It probably looked more impressive than effective...

OOC: 21:07, Today: Torah rolled 9 using 5d2 with rolls of 2,2,1,2,2.  Torah's Mop fu! (combat roll).

The pirates seemed well-prepared for their assault. Even with the aid of Dragan’s sailors, Sir Gerod and Torah faced an onslaught of attackers bent on exacting a heavy toll. Sir Gerod’s demands were met only with cruel laughter from the fearsome brigands. Up close, they were viler than they had appeared at a distance; all furs, unkempt beards, wild hair spiked with animal fat and blue whorls of woad painting their leering faces. Dark tattoos depicting ravens, axes, leafless trees and skulls adorned their filthy, discolored skin, and many a hideous scar and missing tooth made their taunting grimaces even more nightmarish.

Though Sir Gerod fought with courage, aboard the rocking deck of the Cormorant he was out of his element, and his vulnerability was the pirates’ strength. Two of the brigands took their turns alternately drawing the focus of his blade and striking him where he was left open by his attack. Cuts and bruises quickly accumulated on the young knight’s armored body.

Torah swung her mop to douse the blue-painted face of her attacker, but it must have been that the Pictish sea-dog had swabbed his fair share of decks and knew his way around a mop. He grasped the handle as Torah swung it, and used his leverage to wrench her sprawling to the gunwale.

---

OOC: Sir Gerod suffers a loss of -3 to his Brawn, and despite her bonus thanks to the mop trick,Torah loses the throw by 2 Brawn, removing that from her current total. As this exhausts Torah’s Brawn, she is now incapacitated and may not participate further in the fight. I’ll leave it to Torah to describe what has happened to her to prevent her from aiding any further. The battle may continue if Sir Gerod wishes to keep fighting onward, but his next throw will be at a reduced amount.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:20, Tue 04 May 2021.

Torah gave a yelp and found herself airborne for a long moment... before coming down hard on the deck.

What... was that?!

She shook her head in a groggy fashion, but couldn't find the strength to rise.  Worse still, Torah took a few knocks from people's feet as fighting swirled around her.  All she could do was to curl up in a ball and roll to the side of the ship... to avoid getting trampled.