---

Church of St. Giles in the Fields, heading for 9pm Sunday May 5th, 1771


The Reverend had been about to be sent for when he arrived at the church: he had arrived to find a good portion of the village and a few confused strangers from amongst the inn's customers awaiting him in and around the sturdy narthex, much as peasants fleeing some neighbour's attack must have gathered awaiting the leader of their defense in centuries before. In the present, however, Cecil excuses himself about halfway through the throng before he's more broadly noticed and the general exited murmur turns to more directed calls for some folk to be let through and others to wait.

The Vicar opens the heavy door for his flock, noting the soft growl of its ancient ironwork. Widow Sexton is swiftly in with him, the older inn daughters following her lead to light candles once the first is burning from her lantern. Light spreads out from the doorway up the nave, at first pale and cold-looking in the cave of massive masonry and then warming and encircling as more and more flames reflect off the whitewashed plaster of rising arcs. People enter, bringing with them more lanterns and odd candles, the latter mostly grabbed by inn guests and villagers brought out into the throng by the commotion outside.


Tom makes it in a little after his master, having been just barely among those urged back as the Young Squire was escorted in, leaning on Arnold Swanton. Master Fox had passed him in a glitter of silvered embroidery, the unique scent of his perfume shot through with that of the fresh blood mapping some strange island across his coat in livid red. The Squire stumbles over the threshold a little, drawing in a sharp, hissed breath and directing himself to be carefully left to half-collapse in a back pew and collect himself, breathing hard.

Lucy takes her brother's hand as he steps in among the people, the unconscious use of a more juvenile grip to keep track of him speaking to the reality of her earlier fear. Beth might or might not be a fool for her tough ways, but Lucy did have a point: she was smaller than him, so much easier to bear away.


Doctor Lovelace is also among those made way for, bearing his servant like a lost lamb into the cool and cavernous confines of the church. Polzeath slides from his shoulders as soon as he's let down; after a moment of gingerly standing on the thick masonry with no sense of hunting abyss, he takes his master's hand as though to shake it but gets no further than gripping it with both of his, the knife he's carried through all this given over to the Doctor at last. His brows knot as he tries to find some words. "Th-thankee fur zaven me, zir," he manages, voice burred hoarse and accent strong. "Y'knows I'd do as much fer your own zelf, I 'ope?"


Maggie is not made way for, and perhaps fortunately unheeded by most, for as she steps up into the building - feeling Trugred nearby somewhere but not here, an anxious echo of herself - there comes as close to a genuine growl from her passenger as she's ever heard:

"Lay hands on 'er and-" Bart swallows the oath that had first come to him, "-by George I'll bite you."

"She did this, though," Sam Smith protests, backing off. People start to notice Maggie then, a quiet pushing out a circle of wary villagers around the possible threat. Folk stare at her, their expressions closed, even Beth Collins unwilling to throw out some thread of communication. Trying to ignore them and using her vantage, Maggie notes that Robin does not seem to be present, though she'd left him at the inn. The Widow Sexton is, however, coming back close to the Vicar to discuss something.


Sam Hartman reaches the church with Stephen Collins' support, the remnant Collinses trailing him somewhere behind in a flock. The little step over the slightly raised threshold is uncomfortable, pain making it difficult for him to catch any one thought. The people who were in the inn seem to be safe, at least. He'd helped with that.


Andrew is among the last to come in, having met Henry Ragge and Mr. Rickert returning from the same mission he'd set himself at Goodie Westcott's gate. They'd been carrying the horse skull and cloth-draped supports of Trugred's festival costume and a string-wrapped earthenware jar stained dark and with rattling contents, and bore no charitable expression at their findings.

The head gamekeeper had seemed about as minded to mercy as a steel trap on reporting the midwife's abscence and taking in the news of some great disturbance at the inn. "Mm, she were planning somethen big," he'd noted with a nod at what they bore away, but allowed that a midwife might be out at all hours on buisness, for fairness' sake. Ignoring Henry's somewhat smug looks as the trio brought their news and plunder to the church, Andrew had caught sight of what had seemed for an instant to be a wild man dragging a woman away.

Another fraction of a heartbeat had shown the unhandsome, scarred face of Carl Hooper briefly turned towards their light as he struggled to haul his mother home, doubtless to be left with enough gin to souse her asleep without killing her. It had been an innocent enough almost-interaction, but his mind returns to that feral instant of haul and struggle in the gloom even as he steps into the familiarity of the Lord's house.

Primed to receive them, perhaps, his ears pick up murmured rumours of another murder, one enacted close by in the dark. There are other murmurs, of witchcraft and its incomprehensable wants, of stones and sacrifices, of a vengeful Devil set loose by tresspass in the Wood.

Looking about from the door, Andrew sees Polzeath seemingly pressing something upon the Doctor, the Vicar stood a way up the aisle, and Tom looming over the crowd to his left. Maggie seems almost at bay, her powerful form seeming to be chained a moment by the space left about her, though it moves as she does. Sam Hartman is leaning on John Collins' eldest boy, taking some seconds to breathe. Master Fox puts his arm over the back of his pew and looks back, a twitch of concern crossing his handsome features at the sight of the black ribboned cloth and horse skull in Rickert's hands.

Cecil skims the faces of his assembled flock as he confers privately with the Widow Sexton.

The widow also takes a look over those present, frowning in puzzlement to see people avoiding Maggie (or possibly the ex-soldier using her for a steed) but relaxing a notch when she sees her son enter. She pauses at a query from the Vicar, thinking through her response.

"...let's ask those last from the inn how it stands before we haul the very old from their beds and th' babes from their cradles," she says at length. "If we're to be sieged, best to draw in folk from farms close by with the bell, but we don't know what this new buisness is about, nor what it means. Your Fox spoke like he'd done something he wasn't meant to, so it's not main slaughter, at least. As for Trugred, if we scare it off I daresay we could call it up again - look, Mister Rickert has the top of the costume there."

[[seeking anyone in particular?]]

Cecil queries Martin first. "Doctor Lovelace, do you require anything? Can your patients be safely moved to the front of the nave?" He beckons to Maggie whilst awaiting a response. "If you please, Miss Yendale, kindly set Mr. Phippin here in the first pew." He indicates the pew nearest the altar.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:50, Mon 24 Apr 2023.

Head held high, her expression carefully neutral, Maggie strides up the aisle toward the altar. She stops at the front pew, handily lowering Bart to a seat. She gives him a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

Then, she seeks Doctor, going to whisper her news to him.

Cecil opens his mouth to speak with Maggie, only to watch her walk off before he can say a word. "Well," he says to Bart, "perhaps you can explain what's happened to the Widow Sexton and I. Or recommend someone who knows more. Who was it that attacked the Squire? "

Thomas moved closer to the door in that he might have a view to the outside. He brought Lucy with him as well as he looked for any stragglers that might need assistance.


-

Looking through the sturdy narthex, Tom can see Miles Millard hesitantly entering the light thrown by the lanterns hung there, a Babcock twin that's probably Pip at his side. Since he'd last seen Miles heading for the village cell as his young brother-in-law was marched there, it seemed he'd likely been sent - witnessed - to find out what was going on.

"Hares about," he mentions to Tom, coming in. Before Pip can join him and start peppering Tom with questions, however, Tom sees a lantern way out in the lane, a flickering light between the trees and shrubbery leant against that side of the churchyard wall. It is heading for the lych-gate and the path to the church door, however: someone has come from the other side of the village, quite possibly Criddle Farm, and either feels in need of holy ground or has been attracted by the activity there.

[[edit: geographical clarity.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:51, Mon 24 Apr 2023.

In reply to Reverend Palmer (msg # 6):

Bart favours the Vicar with half a smile. "Maggie goes where she will. Got to be specific with Yendales, perhaps the boy more than the girls, though I note he's off, belike to see Jim Stone at the cell. It was him - that Jim - went for the Squire, as far as I have it, and it's Master Sexton saw the deed, sack masked and all. Such is the extent of my knowledge, though y'might ask the Squire himself, and why he was having our Mistress Yendale cried for a witch." He drums his fingers pensively on the back of the pew.

"Could be his blood she brought in to show Polzeath afore the inn went to Bedlam," he allows, "-so that might be a second answer. What's the case with your hand there?" He nods at the kerchief about Cecil's left palm, ever sharp.

Cecil leans forward and murmurs to Bart. "'Tis a warning not to handle cold-iron ash buckets with your bare hands if you've shoveled a warlock's bits and pieces into one." He straightens and gives the man a wink.

The veteran smells something like a bar-room floor, close to, and a little of damp straw and horses. Bart looks up as Cecil draws away and gives the Vicar the kind of squint that says he's not entirely sure if what was vouchsafed was wildly serious or a curious euphemism, but accepts the information either way.

"Well, sure that's your buisness, Vicar," he responds evenly.

Widow Sexton makes her return from a brief trip to confer with the Hare & Sheaf's landlady, who'd come up with her youngest son to intercept her eldest daughter. "...the Collinses say the kitchen floor was covered over when they left, but Nancy wasn't sure if there was more stuff or it was spread out flat-like. Seemed to be 'feeling about' outside a ways like something at fault. Their man Kit volunteered to stay with the horses."

In reply to Margaret Yendale (msg # 5):

Polzeath lowers his voice to match Maggie's, though still struggling with speech at all, English aside. What he says is no more than a dull burr to anyone further than the man and woman right beside him.
 The servant shudders and holds the cut hand out to show the others - and himself - that the long fingers move normally now, even if every crease is something of a mess of blood.

Watching the group about the Doctor with mild irritation and seemingly not much minded to be moved to the fore of the church without his direct word, Master Fox calls over: "Mistress Yendale, do I take it you have some reason besides the notion of wicked supernatural powers to believe you should remain at liberty, or do I put fresh heart into the willing men of Scorch Norton and have you thrown in for a cold night with young Master Stone?"

His glance is sharp and very close to amber in the golden ambient light. His form is tense from pain and taking charge of the recent emergency, but there's a slight resting edge of danger to it, like a wild thing crouched down in a trap.

Sam limps his way into the church after the fall from the window. While his hand had slipped and he had dropped Liz, maybe Nancy would see this injury as some sort of recompense for accidentally dropping Liz. He kept his eyes open for anyone who had been at the inn earlier, while silently praying that this... thing, whatever it was, would leave them be.

Thomas hurries from the church vestibule to offer a arm or shoulder to Sam and help him in and onto one of the pews.


-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:31, Wed 26 Apr 2023.

Cecil starts toward the far end of the nave, raising his voice before anyone can act on Nathan's words. "Supernatural powers are exactly what's afoot, Master Fox, unless you have a better explanation for why someone bearing a close family resemblance to you murdered my housekeeper and threatened my life." He stands alongside Maggie, hand on his hip. "I saw that exact same expression on his face as he bared his teeth at me... teeth made bloody by the ripping-out of poor Elsie Sawyer's throat. 'Tis by Providence alone that I stand here now before you after facing that devil."

In reply to Reverend Palmer (msg # 16):

Sam presents his token to the group, showing it plainly as he hobbles towards the vicar. Reverend Palmer is right, Master Fox. It... whatever it was, it was a doppelganger of some kind - or at least it had that ability. I know not what we are dealing with, but I have no reason to believe Maggie was involved in it."

Thomas follows Samuel in and then turns to Master Fox, "Can we see you token good Sir ?"

-

The Squire blanches briefly at the terrible description, a good part of the crowd falling quiet about the group at once, the hush spreading in a soft wave to the church's corners. A pin-drop hush descends in the candlelight.

Master Fox clears his throat into the silence, fishing a whole and clear token of church lead from his coat pocket to hold up between two fingers as he speaks, little as it means to most of the villagers. "Well...if old Edmond is out of the Wood again by some dint of witchcraft, the parish had best look to their daughters. We shall organise a hunt for the devil on the morrow and avenge Mistress Durbin's and Widow Sawyer both."

There is a dark murmur of agreement from many men and a scatter of the women present. The blood gradually climbs back into Master Fox's  cheeks as he continues: "As for Mistress Yendale, whether this summoning was between her and Mercy Westcott or not, and whether they meant to replace me by said means or no - for Jim Stone would have come at me alone on the road and crept away disguised, but for my going witnessed and Master Sexton's warning, and were one witness killed, I might be put in the ditch and the other Fox set down groaning in an act for the other's return with the Doctor...witch-plots to take the parish in their hands aside, she did importune me on the road to steal my blood and or sundry particles of personal substance."

"I did not ask her to make proof of my solidity in the manner of Our Lord's suggestion unto Thomas the Apostle, but nonetheless once such liberty was taken she ran into the inn, whence followed screams, disorder, and what I understand to be some surging of the Wood's power that caused distraction enough for her to escape untaken. I shall not insist on acting in my father's place as magistrate, and certainly do not plan to eat her, but I think her account of herself is the very least I am owed." The wounded Squire looks from his Vicar to the wild young woman he has no claim over save his class, smouldering with struck pride and courage both.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:39, Wed 26 Apr 2023.

Maggie stands still and calm as all eyes turn to her. She reaches her shawl up over her bedraggled locks. Head bowed, she approaches to within a long pace of Nathan Fox and kneels with unlocked-for grace. Without raising her eyes, yet in a clear strong voice, she says, "I do humbly beg your pardon, Squire, for any harm done to your person or your honour.

“I did seek to smear my hands with your blood. I had tell of you or your fetch having been seen abroad. Having found some mazy men nearby that Doctor and Vicar examined and found to bleed black ichor, it was my whole intention to see the colour of the blood from your wound.

“The blood was a true red colour. But I regret to say there is a Wyzenwood taint to it. Tiny black wormish critters wriggling about. ‘Twas then the black water seept up in the inn.

“I swear that all I say is true in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

She raises a stony gaze to Fox’s face.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:53, Thu 27 Apr 2023.

Master Fox takes the token in his left hand, leans and reaches out to the figure knelt before him as though to stroke down the old track of desperate tears. He cannot quite reach, however, or else hesitates, his fingers curling back beneath his right hand. "Men? You might have waited until I was at the inn and borne away some cloth from the Doctor's ministrations."

His chiding tone is softened by the show of supplication, wanting to believe her, even as she had wanted to believe his hands unstained. His brow furrows deeply at the idea of being full of worms, his shoulders automatically tensing in a kind of flinch before fractionally relaxing with a short laugh. "As for 'black worms' - Master Hartman, would you spit on your hand as delicately as you might, and give a good scrub at the back of your neck with the result?"

"Anyone that wishes may inspect my poor coat in a moment, once the Doctor has set to cleaning this up," he adds, and meets Maggie's eyes, all trace of entertainment at rural leaps of superstition gone: "What else did you do with that blood, Mistress Yendale? Even supposing I were full of flukes as a dying cow from grazing about the Wyzenwood's mere, simply taking them out of my sight should not cause wild agitation. Did anyone see?"

He looks enquiringly to Thomas, supposing that he might, and at Mrs. Collins and Hessie, the latter of whom shrinks away from the attention. Polzeath tenses, still pale and his colour not improving as he realises what may come next.


[[The Doctor has had due notice, but seems to be awa' for the nonce - if he's not back tonight I'll shift him a little to keep his plot function before sending him to the land of Over There Somewhere.]]

Maggie doesn't flinch away from the extended fingers, though her lips compress and she swallows visibly.

"I did naught with the blood smeared on my hands once I saw what wriggled within it, save to wash it away with vinegar. As to who else saw and what they may have witnessed, let them speak forth, if they will. I cannot bear witness for them."

”What I saw when in the kitchen was that Mistress Yendale was quite desperate to wash the blood away,” Andrew said, clearing his throat before speaking up, ”She sought to keep it away from others, so that none would be harmed. She then helped those in the kitchen escape when the dark water appeared.”

Master Fox gives an irritated huff at the blockheadedness of peasants, though he reasons with Maggie with what patience he can draw up, watching her face. Saturday morning seems an age ago. "You took a viscous, I daresay scabbing liquid and pulled it across dirty hands: your 'worms' are mud and skin, nothing more. Sam, or any field worker can show you much the same."

"Floated in a little fresher blood and viewed by candlelight, of course they seem to writhe before the vision. You've scared yourself, that's all. Were these 'men' full of worms?" Seeing he's making little headway, the Squire sighs and looks to the Doctor. People are talking again, a keen current of speculations washing back and forth around the church and around the two by the end of the back pew.

"Doctor, do you believe you are in danger? She must have done something to tempt the Wood..."

Martin masks any reservations by locating who has brought his bag and fishing about in it, coming over to set it heavily on the pew beside his patient. He sets his jacket aside and gives a tense smile to both Maggie and Master Fox, rolling his sleeves, pulling on his gloves and dabbing them over with scented vinegar. "No more danger than usual, I should hope. Someone bring me a light up close, would you?"

"...and take a moment's thought upon the evidence, Master Fox: when co-incidence pushes events close together we might take correlation for causation, might we not? Like a simple sailor who finds the wet air of dropped pressure tickles his instincts to whistle and believes he has summoned a gale."

Master Fox frowns up at Dr. Lovelace a moment, then turns and sets to getting his clothing out of the way, a sharp breath taken as he tugs some scabbed-in thread from the wound. "She hurt me," he complains, though not loudly.

"Mm, and she asked for your forgiveness over it," the Doctor remarks, reaching for the bared skin. "Will you give it to her?"

"...perhaps, soon. She can stay free," the noble allows grudgingly, perforce addressing his seat. Hessie and her mother have currently sidestepped the situation quite literally, each helping Bart - or keeping him from sprint-crawling across the floor with deep lack of decorum - to reach where Arnie has folded down into a pew at the news of Widow Sawyer's death.

As Fox surrenders himself to the doctor’s ministrations, Maggie rises in a supple motion. She steps aside but does not leave the Squire’s field of vision, standing quietly a yard or two away, not engaging anyone. Her expression determinedly neutral, she watches what Doctor is about with a sidelong gaze.

The physician may not be conscious of danger but she fears Nathan Fox and the malignity he carries.

Sam does as he is told and shows Maggie the kind of fine wormlike stuff that can be scrubbed up out of honest dirt, nodding to Master Fox.

[[GM edit: clarifying action.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:45, Fri 28 Apr 2023.

Cecil quietly asks whether Martin needs anything before circulating amongst his parishioners to comfort those in need and lead them individually and collectively in prayer.

[[04:12, Today: Reverend Palmer rolled 44 using 1d100.  Art: Practical Religion 70.]]
This message was last edited by the player at 08:41, Fri 28 Apr 2023.

Once a lantern is provided to work by and Polzeath has recovered from the brief bout of panic-crying he'd excused himself for (standing very straight and letting his master know he felt it coming) the Doctor is not in need of anything save clean water. Despite Maggie taking his seemingly blithe and rational intervention as utter fearlessness rather than steering the conversation away from making a Jonas of Polzeath, he works with more than usual caution, quietly obtaining samples as he goes.


[[Keeper post for Martin, who I keenly hope comes back.

edit: Rolls, not (superstitiously) in the morning, but with a little optional-rule-applied-to-NPCs-bending anyway, because I'm not getting into the massive consequences from the implication of Martin abandoning class solidarity and the Hippocratic Oath without player consent.

13:25, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Martin Lovelace, rolled 100 using 1d100.  Medicine (75)
13:27, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Martin Lovelace, rolled 63 using 1d100.  allowing a Push, because that's not Martin's fault.

13:29, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Martin Lovelace, rolled 4 using 1d3+2.  Healing!]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:36, Fri 28 Apr 2023.

The Reverend goes on his round about the people and feels the fear in the flock, the panic barely held back in them that the ground, the water and the trees perhaps might turn enemy. He senses the desire to run in them, the terror of a predator scented but not seen, spilt blood. He goes about and amongst them, a figure of white-touched black among all their colours, speaking a little here, a little there, sometimes reaching out to touch, until the desperation lessens in those voices that call out to him. People settle, uncertain and concerned but less a danger to themselves or anyone made out as a centre to the trouble.

Dr. Lovelace does his work upon the flesh with Polzeath helping as he might, keeping his glove-fingers just damp with vinegar. As he is finishing there comes a surge of movement amongst those stood about nearer the door and Janet Criddle pushes through, the crowd parting in her wake to let her mother by.

Master Fox looks up at his beloved, reading something between her look and that of her mother that turns him at least as pale as the news of Elsie Sawyer's murder. "Oh, God," he murmurs, and lets his shirt fall to something nearer modesty before reaching out to Janet to take her hand and gently bring it to his lips.

Thomas was unsure as to how to broach the subject that was in his head, but given he had hoped to make a special trip to gain the answer perhaps it was time to ask. "Sir can you describe the time in the woods when you were not in the company of Sam or myself ?"


-

Master Fox looks perplexed at this interjection and almost as though he might tell his beekeeper to go forth and multiply, but swallows and invites his bride with a look to settle her mass of delicately striped skirts on his knee, if she will. Janet obliging him with her plain wool cloak bundled in her lap, he slips his arms about her, takes a deep breath near her shawled shoulder and makes an answer:

"I went forward as you two concealed yourselves to make a run for it, going loudly to draw attention to myself away from your patch of bracken. I did not approach the mere or...the tree at once, circling about them somewhat. I was severely dizzy from the fumes, in...a poor state of mind, and felt I should have been oppressed by flies and such biting things as generally attend befouled ponds, but was not. At any rate the plan worked, and the Lady's stag came at me through that mental - and perhaps physical - haze, very fast and with little chance to avoid him, though of course I did, if barely."

"Enough contact was made that the beast's antlers grazed my chest and became tangled with my clothing, and I...I had my knife in hand already, you remember that, and stabbed him twice, to the hilt, in the throat. He slammed me to the ground a couple of times then threw me several yards in untangling himself, and I suppose...I hope I passed from consciousness, or else lay there amongst the moss and bones stunned and hallucinating wildly, unable to call out."

He swallows, smoothing over Janet's skirts with his left hand as though he might brush away the tension from his lady, the telling having leached it from himself. "I...believed I saw the stag's flesh knit to itself like a woman drawing tight a seam, and the mere's water gather up the blood, and then...darkness. Dreams of a nature I cannot, will not try to put to words. I came to and staggered out of the wood, and you saw me again, and, ah..." he trails off, very aware of his should-be mother-in-law come up to his side and how small the back of the back of the pew separating them seems to be.

Mrs. Criddle narrows her eyes at him but waits to be sure of a natural gap in the conversation before stating what business has brought her in. She looks at the bloody coat over the pew-back, the bloody waistcoat set on the seat and the red blot gone dull yet carefully kept from touching her daughter's clothing making Master Fox's shirt, though none of these seem to get him in less trouble.

Belatedly, Maggie drops a curtsy to Missus Criddle and ventures a closed-lips smile to Janet.

"Good evenin' to ye both." Her speech drops back into its customary soft burr now that she no longer feels like a prisoner in the dock.

[[GM edit: confusing terms of address mixup.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:20, Mon 01 May 2023.

Janet returns Maggie's smile with a nervous one of her own, a little pale from Master Fox's story or whatever hot water she's in with her mother, or both. Her mother nods to Maggie's bobbed greeting, but since Long Tom seems to be ruminating on what was spoken of before she gives her almost-son-in-law a look that confirms he knows what she knows and comes to the point:

"A duel?"

Her tone has less mercy in it than the gamekeeper's. Janet tenses a little further.

"I...well, yes. He did try to kill me before, it's to settle...ah..." Master Fox falters and frowns down at their hands as Janet's finds his and laces their fingers. Flushing slightly, he looks up at the older woman and gently disengages his right hand after a quick squeeze, reaching out to Janet's mother. When she puts her hand in his he grasps it with sincerity.

"Ma'am...mother," he addresses her in the general sense, though there's a faint, timid desire to be allowed to call someone 'mother' again. He swallows and rallies, looking up into her face. "...I beg your forgiveness, and hope you know that I would sooner personally rend the world apart than hurt your daughter. She is my life, and for a moment I forgot that I could cease to be at a bullet whilst she was still breathing - I am sorry, my darling - the risk is low, but..."

Mrs. Criddle gives him a steady look, wanting something more concrete than apology. Master Fox takes a long breath and holds it a moment in thought. "-if I sent for the father of the bride, we could be married tonight?" He looks hopeful. "We have witnesses, and a vicar, and we can always do the ceremonies, pomp and dancing later. I...I even have a ring that I was taking over to your house for your husband's inspection."

He reclaims his hand to fish awkwardly in his waistcoat and show it to her, then gives the loop of bright and plaited gold to Janet to turn over in her fingers. "What do you say, my love?"

"I...I'll do it, if my parents agree," Janet says, flushing with excitement and bashfulness to be caught fascinated by the gold. She manages not to kiss the youth she sits on, but only just.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:28, Mon 01 May 2023.

Thomas steps back once Mr Fox had replayed his story for the gathered crowd. He also wanted to not crowd the man as several others joined the knot of people. He lead Lucy away as he thought on his own time in the woods again.


-

Andrew listens quietly to Mister Fox speak with his bride-to-be and her mother, not feeling that he has sufficient standing to even greet them.

Glancing over his shoulder, he looks for his own mother, suddenly craving a word with her, in hopes that her wisdom might settle his troubled thoughts. His mind continues to shift to Jim Stone, alone and doomed in his cell, wanting to find some way to bring a halt to the morning duel.

Maggie relaxes a bit as talk of marriage lowers the tension. Looking about, she can't see Robin among the crowd of neighbours. She moves closer to Andrew Sexton.

"Andrew, where's Robin?"

She also realizes Mercy Westcott hasn't turned up yet.

Even as Maggie addresses him, Andrew can see his mother talking with a small and serious group of villagers across the church. Robin, however, is not to be seen.

“…did that sound right, for what happened?” Lucy asks her brother quietly.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 38):

"We saw none of it .. so..." Thomas continues to watch the door.

"You were on about seeing something that wasn't the stag, though," Lucy mutters, concerned. She joins his concentrated staring for a moment, but seeing nothing of interest outside at present save the odd light bobbing about amongst the further houses, she goes and sidles up to the Doctor in the manner of one awaiting audience.

Meanwhile, Master Fox picks a couple of men to make their way through the uncertain, hare-haunted dark to fetch the father of the bride and calls out: "Vicar! Might I have your attention a moment?"

Cecil excuses himself, promising his charges that he remains available to them, and makes his way across the nave. He pauses to greet Janet and Mrs. Criddle before turning his attention to Nathan. "How may I be of service, Squire?"

Janet gets a look from her betrothed that prompts her to flush a little and make reply: "...he'd like you to marry us right now - when my father gets here, that is. If you please, Reverend."

"...due to this duel he's got into," her mother adds, causing the couple to simultaneously flinch somewhat at her tone.

Cecil inclines his head in acquiescence to the pair. "I would be delighted. With your leave, Squire, I shall don my proper vestments and return forthwith."

Master Fox indicates with an amiable wave that the officiant should feel free. "Indeed, so much the better if at least one of those present is suitably dressed."

Cecil catches some murmuring between them as he turns to his new mission: "...oh, but should we have sent someone for my brushes and a dress for tomorrow? If I...i-if I'm your wife tonight?" Janet's breath is almost taken by the realisation of the sudden leap she's about to take.

Master Fox's reply is muted near his darling's ear; from the Doctor's perspective the pearly flash of Fox's teeth beside her barely rose-pinked throat is something like jewels placed around her neck. "...I'll have the maids re-arrange you something most excellent from what my family's kept, dove, before you rise, even. When we're wed, my house shall be your house, my relations' things your things, my sheets your sheets..." His tone drops to sweet sub-audibility, presumably in a brief suggestion of other services at her disposal.

No. Maggie's lips form the word but without sound. How can Vicar agree so readily to this notion with some evil abroad in the night and Fox's true nature (to her mind at least) still uncertain. And this madness of a pistol duel with poor Jim Stone--

She sidles over to Polzeath, murmuring, "Can Doctor not stop this madness? Surely, Squire's too weakened by his wound for nuptial exertions and a duel. I daren't approach th' Squire. Do you call Doctor over so's I c'n speak privily to him."

She moves two steps away from the man to await Doctor's presence. Why doesn't Mercy come?

Polzeath returns her a look that's as anxious as she is, but does as he's bid, moving smoothly and quietly to his master's side. "Zir..." He leans in to speak very softly, just audible above the more relaxed muttering of the people in the church.  Polzeath shudders. There's a current of excitement going about the building now at the prospect of being present at the Young Squire's wedding, abbreviated ceremony or not.

The doctor listens to the various people vying for his attention, taking it all in, but also trying to concentrate on something else. Finally he nods to Polzeath and raises a hand to quiet Maggie "Please Ma... Miss Yendale, I think it best you keep quiet given recent events. I understand your concerns, let me have a word with the squire."

He then closes the small distance between himself and the young, soon to be married, couple "Master Fox, if I might have a word please?" he looks about for a quiet corner of the crowded church and spotting none, gestures towards the door "A quiet one."

He moves to the exit.

Master Fox gently excuses himself from under his bride and rises, not very willingly, to follow the Doctor outside. He seems to breathe easier in the cool, just-damp dark of the churchyard, despite his wound. He listens to what the Doctor has to say, standing quietly with the light behind catching his fine embroidery and the fox-red of his hair. When the reasoning is laid out, he gingerly leans his shoulders back against the wall and takes a long breath.

Maggie drifts toward the door. She keeps to the shadows of the porch while focusing all her attention on Fox and Doctor.

Not knowing what Doctor intends to say, she is on guard against any aggressive response from the Squire.

Maggie slides past Long Tom, perhaps the only one present more obvious than she is, and out into the porch. The two men seem to be talking quietly and reasonably beyond, the Doctor's tone persuasive, the Squire's tense but earnest.

[[Maggie, take a Listen roll to make out any of their conversation so far, then a Stealth roll to see if you can get any closer without being noticed. This is a private discussion, after all.]]

Mistress Yendale’s inquiry about her brother sent a jolt of concern through Andrew. When they had set out to find Jim Stone, Robin had remained at the inn, but now Andrew was uncertain of where his apprentice had gone.

Stepping over to his mother, he asked, ”Mother, have you seen Robin about anywhere since we departed the inn?”

His mother blinks at Andrew's sudden query, having seemingly been discussing the removal of the corpse from the vicarage with Martin Easom's mother and some other solemn-looking wives. "I've not seen him, but I don't know when all were afoot from the inn, either. Was he not with you and the Bees?"

Seeing that the query isn't that helpful in alleviating her son's concern, she adds: "Y'know how Long Tom gets wrapped about in his own buisness, could be he's not thought to tell you that Robin's gone home up to Yendale. The Collinses are here too: if he was at the inn, whoever was at the bar would surely have seen him leave if it was before the black water buisness."

She looks at him with concern, worried that he's worried but taking things in their turn. Outside the night has dark enough to catch and spring away with a dozen boys.

Though she strains her ears, Maggie cannot pick out the words that pass between the two men. She doesn't trust her chance to creep closer without perhaps offending Doctor or drawinfg further ire from Fox. She stays on the porch, observing and not lulled by the quiet of their discourse.

Margaret Yendale rolled 52 for Listen 20, 50 for Stealth 40

In reply to Nathan Fox (msg # 31):

Sam listens intently as Master Fox speaks of the events in the woods, glancing over as he sees Mrs. Criddle approach. While he had had dreams of his own, he wondered if Master Fox's dreams were related. "Master Fox, could you explain what sort of dreams you had?"

Thomas stayed by the door as the Doctor and Master Fox approached. He looked out the door as he tried to catch some of the conversation if he could.

Thomas Bees rolled 29 using 1d100.  Listen = 25%.


-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:23, Wed 17 May 2023.

The length and sturdiness of the old Noman narthex swallows up Tom's attempts at eavesdropping, though he can see Maggie standing in the half-light well enough, and the Doctor outside.

[[Optional Spot Hidden roll available, Tom & Maggie. Also, since I'm not sure if Maggie had an on/in typo and how familiar my players are with Norman architecture, the church porch is a structure like <a href=https://c8.alamy.com/comp/P3R7EW/the-porch-of-the-fine-norman-church-in-the-west-norfolk-village-of-castle-rising-P3R7EW.jpg> this one in Castle Rising</a> on the other side of England. It's like a little room rather than a house porch]]

Temporarily stranded against the porch wall, Maggie's eyes adjust, the indecipherable murmur of conversation outside letting her concentration wander just a little, her body primed for movement. Old features of the church she'd always seen but never thought about seem oddly pertinent tonight.

Yes, in would have been the better word choice. I picture her on the most shadowed side of the room, peering and listening out the door.

Margaret Yendale rolled 19 for Spot Hidden 35

[[GM edit: pouring results into the empty post/being a huge nerd]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:37, Wed 17 May 2023.

In reply to Samuel Hartman (msg # 54):

Sam had posed his question as Master Fox was rising: it seemed the noble had not heard him. After a few moments' pause, Janet fidgets and looks about her, nervously disinclined to make casual conversation with her mother at present. She seizes on her father's farmhand as a distraction, still rather flushed at the prospect of spending the night in her new house, but as always observant and concerned: "Oh, Sam, you're limping...why don't you sit and wait for the Doctor to come back?"

She drops her gaze to the coat near her, holding the ring not yet quite hers in one hand as she reaches out to brush her fine fingers over the hole and bloodstain on it with the other, the silvered thread glittering bright through the dulling red. The girl gives a neat little shudder and draws herself in, looking very small and delicate alone on her pew of a sudden. "What were you saying about dreams?" she asks Sam.

The doctor nods, pauses a while and then speaks quietly in return
This message was lightly edited by the player at 17:47, Thu 18 May 2023.

The younger man's tone is pensive. He gives a tense sigh over the other topic.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:01, Sat 20 May 2023.

In reply to Janet Criddle (msg # 58):

Sam frowns when Janet asks him about the dreams. Although he had been the one to bring the topic up in the first place, he had only intended to speak to Master Fox about it. As he nods to Janet, he sits down on one of the pews, lifting his leg up with a wince.

"The night Polly disappeared... I had a dark dream as well. I wonder if it is connected to anything. I wanted to see what Master Fox's dream was about."

Looking around the room for John Collins, or his daughter Hester, Andrew approaches them to ask if they have seen Robin, or know of his whereabouts.

John Collins approves of Andrew taking the extra step of requesting permission to speak with his daughters; Hessie refers him to Beth, who was on bar.

"He went out when everyone did, to see what the commotion was, but I didn't see him after that," she says. "Gone with whoever was locking up Jim, most like."

In reply to Samuel Hartman (msg # 61):

"Oh, have my cloak for a pillow under that, Sam, do," Janet says, leaning to offer the garment, her concern quite genuine despite their disparity in class. Her mother moves silently to take her hair in hand once she's settled back, unpinning it from her cap, smoothing and re-plaiting it whilst they wait for the Vicar's reappearance as though Janet were a small child sat by some home hearth. Janet makes herself lean back and let her, gradually relaxing under the familiar motions.

"hmm...how odd...Nate had thought he'd been having bad dreams for a while before Polly vanished, but he never quite remembered them. After she...after that night, he seems to have had worse dreams, like he sensed something was wrong all the while..." She tenses against another neat little shiver.

"As for what he dreamt in the Wood, he wouldn't even talk to me about it, or...couldn't. I think perhaps he wanted to tell me about something, only usually when a feeling's too big for us, or doesn't fit into words, our hearts are so close that we may grasp the shape of the idea just from looks, or touches, and...and I couldn't, that time. I think he knew I couldn't have any reference for what he experienced out there."

She pauses, adding after a moment: "He told me I'd be safe no matter what, though, and with such certainty. Nathan would surely fight any witch for me - as I would for him - but I feel like maybe he felt an omen in that wise, too. I hope he doesn't mind me talking this way, about omens...he likes to make a show of thinking all charms and 'superstition' are games, but I think he's sensitive to them, a little bit. Maybe you are, too. Did you dream a murder?"

Thanking the Collins family each in turn, Andrew quietly set out for the cell, in hopes of finding Robin, wondering if his apprentice had believed that there was yet more truth to be drawn out of Jim Stone.

"Where are you off to Andrew ?" asks Thomas as the man walks past him.


-

”Neither Mistress Yendale nor I know where Robin has gone,” Andrew explains, his brow creased with concern, ”Beth Collins said she thought he’d gone with those who were placing Jim Stone in the cell. I was off to find him.”

"Here, I will come to. Extra pair of eyes an all." He turns and tells Lucy not to leave the confines of the church for any reason, even if she sees him beckoning her from beyond the threshold.


-

Lucy gives her brother a rather hurt look and deliberately turns away to go and hasten over to the Collinses, not looking back at him. Beth takes one glance at the expression on Lucy's face and puts an arm over her shoulders to hug her like an extra sister, looking about for Tom just to frown at him.

Cecil feels the absence of young Robin, meanwhile in the vestry, as he slowly dons the appropriate vestments. Gracious Lord, I ask of You this night to deliver young Master Yendale, Your faithful acolyte, safely into the arms of they who love him. He is a good lad and true, ever delighting in Your Holy Word. I dare say he may one day make a fine priest himself.

Maggie watches Andrew and Tom depart the church without hindrance or comment.

Master Fox pushes away from the wall at the approaching steps and stands aside as Long Tom ducks his way out of the narthex. He takes a step back and watches from the shadows as Andrew exits, too, little more of him easily seen than those places the rising moon might touch his outline and the cautious glimmer of his eyes. Other things watch, dotted out in the churchyard and the lane beyond: low things with eyes that catch the light cast by the lantern of the men just come in by the gate and keep it.

Hares, night beings, lurkers-in-ditches. The young Squire seems unalarmed at the presence of at least four around the place in mysterious congregation, but gives those leaving some seconds' more attention, wary of men's movements after all the happenings tonight.

"Take care, gentlemen," is all he says, and looks from his father-in-law's approach to the Doctor, intimating they might return inside.

In reply to Janet Criddle (msg # 64):

Sam listens intently to Janet, wincing once more, though not nearly as intensely as when he lifted his leg up onto the pew.


"It was... a dream of some sacrifice, with the community gathered round. Though... it seemed oddly similar that my dream was of sacrifice and that Master Fox's was of murder. One other thing that seemed ominous... the other farmhands all had the same dream."

Seeing Mister Criddle arrive at the churchyard as Andrew and Tom depart, Maggie takes advanyage of the distraction to slip back into the church. A stray thought of Robin briefly touches her mind and she's glad Andrew Sexton is going out to find him.

Just inside, she finds a shadowed spot to stand and await Doctor.

Thomas watched his sister leave and gave Beth a wink before turning and following Andrew out. As he approaches the door he places his hat back on and tips it to the Doctor and Master Fox as they leave.


-

”Thank you, Tom,” Andrew says, grateful for the other’s willingness to accompany him. He gives the remainder of the gathering a nod before departing the church for the cell.

In reply to Samuel Hartman (msg # 73):

"Our community? -or some other?" Janet asks, concerned. "-and I don't know if Nate dreamt a murder on the first or in the Wood: perhaps it was the very same sacrifice. I just noticed his sleep had got worse. Gosh, I wonder if that was...well, Her In The Wood, suggesting what ought to be done, or God sending us a warning about what might happen, if there were many corrupted in the community."

She reaches up to feel her hair as her mother finishes re-binding it for the last time they'll share a name; perhaps the last time in general. The Hall's maids would see to it on the morrow. "Oh, but let's set such topics aside for the night - or for the Vicar, when he's back. I want to get myself together, I-I'm a little nervous..."

Master Fox reappears at the doorway and seems transfixed, even breath-taken for a moment when Janet turns about at catching his movement: it needs no words for him to tell her that she holds him in amaze with everything she is, and still more the clenching thought that she's so nearly bound to him, and willingly. He manages to persuade his legs to cross to her and kisses the hand proffered to him to hold, taking it, and then the other, offered in jest. Janet blushes to find herself so tenderly trapped and her mother fails to wedge any hard gaze between them.

"Your father's almost here, my sweet. Is the Vicar ready?"

In reply to Margaret Yendale (msg # 74):

[[Moving things on for Martin since it's been over a week with no response to the standard poke, though I sincerely hope he comes back.
edit: player apparently looked in right as I was posting, but hasn't seen this yet - maybe hold off any replies until American Tomorrow?
edit II: typo fix, given American Tomorrow came and seems set to go with nothing but crickets here all round...]]


Meanwhile, the Doctor notes Maggie's waiting-spot almost more by instinct than awareness, looking troubled and pensive. He approaches the tall young woman to lean in and speak quietly to her a moment. "Master Fox will not be put off the duel-" he holds up a hand to forestall exclamation at his failure and drops his voice still further, very much for Maggie alone to hear. The inexplicable connection holds taut between them.

 Doctor Lovelace gives a tense sigh, looking over at Master Fox and his bride. Outside there comes the scuffle of steps approaching.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:11, Mon 29 May 2023.

Meanwhile, stout Barney Criddle comes in through the porch with those sent to escort him, his best coat thrown on and looking just about ready to swat someone with his hat in slightly riled bewilderment. He might have called some demand for a better explanation across, even in church, but between his wife's quelling look and his young daughter's adoring gaze upon the one she wants to marry he holds his peace, at least until he's crossed the floor to them. He sets his big, rough hand on theirs. "A duel, Nathan? ...and you're all right with this sudden rush, Janet?"

"I'm...yes, Dad. Please." Janet smiles at her father, though the nervousness about her mother seems to have returned.

Master Fox also smiles to see his darling do so, though it turns rueful when looking to his father-in-law. "A silly duel, in all, but you see the chunk taken out of me. I will not hide behind the Law, nor allow foolish rumours to go unchallenged if they might stain the least part of your daughter's honour; it must be done. The boy shall have his handicap, but I expect to kiss my...my wife on tomorrow's evening in the same manner as that morning. If she'd like," he adds the last as much to Janet, who only goes pinker in response.

Cecil opens the door and steps from the vestry in full vestments, passing through the chancel and sanctuary to light the candles around and finally on the altar.

Maggie looks aside at Doctor's explanation with a softly-voiced "Oh." of impatience. Men and their pretenses of honour, indeed. Well, a promise of mercy is something at least.

Then, she whispers urgently to the man before her.
Her glance darts to Fox and his bride-to-be.

[[assume all Martin posts for this week to be under my guardianship - Keeper]]

The Doctor hesitates in the pleased and expectant hush that had spread at the Vicar's reappearance, watching his friend brighten the holy heart of the church in cassock, surplice and silver-worked white stole. He motions for Polzeath to hand him his bag, not very willingly.

 Martin continues his soft conversation with Maggie, cautiously handing her a vial of diluted blood to hold by the nearest candle whilst general attention is elsewhere. He hesitates again as the bride and her party form up to proceed, first Hessie and then other village women coming up with increasing boldness to equip the blushing girl with the minimum assortments of trinkets for luck - a blue ribbon, a gift of silver in the form of a sixpence, a long-treasured Mary Bean - as her mother takes charge of the ring.

The Doctor shakes his head. Master Fox seems to be taking a moment to steel himself and remember his vows.

Master Fox arranges himself as best he can, bloodstained coat, sword and all, and approaches the altar. "All ready, Vicar?" he asks, just the slightest tremor of excited nervousness in his voice.

Maggie shivers at the sight of bloody coat and blood-stained blade at the nuptial altar. It seems ill-omened at the least. Returning the vial to Doctor, she leans yet closer.
She looks about the assembly for Goody Westcott.

[[GM edit: aggressive autocorrect weirdness]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:20, Wed 31 May 2023.

Maggie sees that the midwife remains absent. Martin clears his throat to distract himself from the sudden, silly impulse to reach over to Maggie and fuss her whilst she's leant so close, answering quietly.

He says nothing of trouble finding the midwife, sharp-toothed or otherwise. Out in the aisle, Mr. Criddle gives his daughter an encouraging grip of the shoulder and offers her - fair, blooming Janet, fairest of all the village in this moment - his arm to be led solemnly to her bridegroom's side.
This message was last updated by the GM at 21:14, Sat 03 June 2023.

In reply to Janet Criddle (msg # 77):

"I... I am not sure if it was our community or some other, and... I'm not sure it's Her, or something else. Either way... I think I need to speak with Master Fox about it."

As he saw the couple embrace, he silently felt a longing for what could be, were the church not so insistent on it being so damned wrong.

After a moment the doctor leans in close to Maggie again, obviously sharing a quiet word.


He let's silence hang on his last words, but turns his head to meet Maggie's gaze, hoping that he has not distressed her too greatly.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:17, Thu 08 June 2023.

Maggie's eyes go wide. Her lips compress to the thinnest line and she nods once.


Maggie is suddenly conscious of the warmth of Doctor's body so close to hers and that she's breathing in the air he's breathing out. She pulls back a bit, but not so much as a step, and pulls her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her eyes dart about the shadows of the church.

[[GM edit: relations dead, living and undead]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:52, Wed 07 June 2023.

In reply to Samuel Hartman (msg # 85):

"He'll not have time for tavern talk any time soon," Mrs. Criddle remarks absently, leaning on the back pew lately vacated by her daughter. Her husband delivers the young bride to the altar. The motley congregation keeps a pleased hush, awaiting some words from the vicar.

Cecil raises his hands in welcome. "Dearly beloved: We come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by his presence and first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people." His gaze slowly sweeps across his assembled flock.

"The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given one another in both prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God."

Extending his arms, Cecil turns his palms to bless the pair before him. "Into this holy union Nathan Fox and Janet Criddle now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else forever hold your peace."



[[GM edit: addition of paragraphing for ease of reading, no alteration to text.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:38, Thu 08 June 2023.

Doctor Matrin notes Maggie's albeit subtle actions and, being acutely aware of such in her presence he gives an almost imperceptible cough of embarrassment and straightens his spine to sit more upright, an act that moves him a little away from her without risking drawing attention by actually taking a step.

He makes a slight noise in his throat "Ahum" and then is silent until the reverend begins speaking, then he whispers again, but this time not inclining his head and turning it only ever so little in Maggie's direction

There is a moment of silence before he continues

The people about the church keep an expectant hush - save for Henry Ragge, who's just thought of a pun on the theme of holding one's peace if unable to marry the bride, but Mrs. Sibley elbows him in the ribs and turns his snickering into a muffled 'oogARg'. Those at the altar ignore the quiet scuffle, the father of the bride nodding solemnly that he has no objections, at least.

Cecil then addresses the bride and groom. "I require and charge you both, here in the presence of God, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be united in marriage lawfully, and in accordance with God's Word, you do now confess it."

Maggie moves away from Doctor into the shadowy space along the outer walls of the church. With everyone's attention set on the ceremony at the altar, she moves slowly, quietly toward the doors at the rear.

[[...hmm. I'll say that's double your base Stealth, Maggie, to go entirely unnoticed, even if no-one wants to disrupt the ceremony at all.]]

"I here so swear before God that we share no blood, nor retain bigamous contracts, nor any other matter of law that might rightly keep us from this pact," Master Fox responds, steady with an effort. Janet shyly looks to the officiant, only half-believing this is truly taking place.

"Being not yet of my age of liberty, I have my parents' permission to marry this man, and do so of my own will," she affirms, looking at her parents to confirm that's wholeheartedly true as her mother brings up the ring.

Maggie sneaks away, slipping some effects from a pew and out into the night without a word. All eyes and ears are turned towards the altar and the young pair that wait there.


[[ Margaret Yendale rolled 64 for Stealth 80 (temporary).]]

Keeper edit: putting something in the post and revealing a roll asked for in public. Remember, if anyone wants to hand me / I've asked for dice rolls in secret, please use PMs if you don't want to make an IC post, and the OOC thread for OOC queries with no accompanying IC text, too.

Maggie, I'll move you over to the other thread once you actually drop me a line in PM this time, see below.

This message was last edited by the GM at 07:09, Sun 11 June 2023.

Cecil first queries Janet. "Janet, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

He then asks Nathan. "Nathan, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

Janet looks up at Cecil, a little flushed in nervous excitement, but serious. "I will so do."

Her groom nods slightly, and if his gaze roves briefly to the slim shadows not quite banished by church lights, it is just as serious on its return. He takes the oath's weight simply yet wholeheartedly, even if there is just the slightest tremor in his body from tension or blood loss or both together. "I will."

The doctor notes the young squire's gaze, though from behind he cannot tell where the young man looks. As Nathan speaks then, Martin to looks around the darker corners of the church, seeking out anything that might be hidden.

Martin sees the windows seeming like a tangle of dark, glittering vines with the light outside, the decoration and saints' figures hidden in the obscurity. He sees shadows darkened behind the delicate inner glow of candles and further shadows clinging in caliginous corners at the heights of the vaults above, but no living soul to be looked at quite there.


[[Hm. SAN check, Martin.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:55, Tue 13 June 2023.

As the Doctor's gaze lingers a little in the shadows, he too shudders a little as Nathan did, his face blanching, but then recognition registering in his eyes and the breath that had caught in his throat is at last released, his shoulder slumping where they had tensed.

He then looks about, his features with a quizzical look now, and he too tries to extract himself from the church without interrupting proceedings and detracting from the happy couple's moment.


[[21:41, Today: Martin Lovelace rolled 82 using 1d100.  Double stealth (40).]]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:43, Tue 13 June 2023.

A couple of folk look round at Martin's sudden movement, Polzeath uncertainly picking up his master's bag and making the attempt to follow quietly, even if outside and the soil is fairly terrifying to him right now. People nearer the door cast questioning glances as the Doctor softly excuses his way through.

[[where to, Doc?]]

In reply to Mrs. Criddle (msg # 88):

Sam nods at Mrs. Criddle, turning his head and watching her husband and daughter soon come to the altar. And once more, he felt a pang of sadness. Looking back up to her, he continues, "Given all the men had the same dream along with Master Fox, I think that they are connected. I would like to speak with him after everything."

The doctor excuses his actions to the quizzical looks with a quiet "There are still wounds to treat and will likely be more serious injuries with the duel tomorrow, I must replenish my supplies."

He then heads for Goody Westcott's house as she is missing, but also, that is where the Trugred seems most oft 'stabled'.

Cecil raises his hands in supplication. "Let us pray. O gracious and everliving God, You have created us male and female in Your image: Look mercifully upon this man and this woman who come to You seeking Your blessing, and assist them with Your grace, that with true fidelity and steadfast love they may honor and keep the promises and vows they make.

"Give them wisdom and devotion in the ordering of their common life, that each may be to the other a strength in need, a counselor in perplexity, a comfort in sorrow, and a companion in joy. Grant that their wills may be so knit together in Your will, and their spirits in Your Spirit, that they may grow in love and peace with You and one another all the days of their life. Give them grace, when they hurt one another, to recognize and acknowledge their fault, and to seek out each other's forgiveness and Your own.

"Make their life together a sign of Christ's love to this sinful and broken world, that unity may overcome estrangement, forgiveness heal guilt, and joy conquer despair. Bestow on them, if it is Your will, the gift and heritage of children, and the grace to bring them up to know You, love You, and serve You. Give them such fulfillment of their mutual affection that they may reach out in love and concern for others.

"Through Jesus Christ our Savior, who lives and reigns with You in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen."

The general murmur of 'Amen' makes a roll like distant thunder about the church. There's a mixed solemnity and joy among the people, and Janet is fairly radiant, even with this rushed ushering into the major phase of her life. The groom grits his teeth on nerves, standing tense and straight though glancing at the bride from time to time, clearly wishing no more than to hold her. Noting the pause occasioned by the lack of his chosen reader and aware of the deepening night, he dips his head to softly clear his throat and accepts Janet's hand as her father looses his hold.

"In the...name of God, I, Nathan Fox, take you, Janet Criddle, to be my wife," Master Fox manages, the words smoothing as he looks into Janet's eyes, forgetting, for a moment, that anyone else exists: "-to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, richer or poorer, in sickness or in health...to love and to cherish until death should part us. This is my solemn vow."

He kisses her fingers and lets them go. Janet takes a deep breath, reaches out and re-takes his hand of her own will. Her promise is spoken more steadily and with more confidence, having the example to follow, though there's no less intensity of emotion in her voice:

"In the name of God, I, Janet Criddle, take you, Nathan Fox, for to be my husband: to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish until death should part us. This is my solemn vow."


The congregation keeps a rapt silence, and even those with a notion that the bride had been yet a child for her age and gentle upbringing can tell that she is as much a part of this joint will as the young man beside her. There is the determination to pledge herself throughout the long uncertainties of a life burning beneath her gentle blushes, and she keeps hold of Nathan's hand until the Vicar's glances motion to a blessing of the ring.

Cecil produces the rings given him earlier, making the sign of the Cross over them in benediction. "Bless, O Lord, these rings, to be a sign of the vows by which this man and this woman have bound themselves to each other; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." He extends the rings to bride and groom and awaits their respective pledges.

[[alright, I can roll with that, sounds like Mrs. Criddle was doing a bit more Plotting than I thought, even. Do note that it'll be a century before formal marriage markers for men become commonplace, but I've made pledge rings/their precursor a plot point before now, so I can't complain. Nathan will have to give his mother-in-law a horse or something to make up.]]


The provision of a ring for him clearly takes the groom by surprise: the Vicar sees the quick look darted at Mrs. Criddle, who might as well be made of marble. Another brief glance goes to Janet, who returns a look of helpless glee, transparently innocent of any foreknowledge of this, and composes her face so as to be sure of not breaking into giggles.

Master Fox goes from startlement to pale, heart-aching gratitude to acceptance in a few moments, straightening his shoulders and claiming his mother's ring to set on the finger of his bride that carries blood swiftest to the heart. His voice shakes just a little with emotion. "Janet, my heart, I here give this ring as a symbol of my vow, with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in...in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost."

Janet mouths a little 'amen' only visible to the priest and does her best to copy vows she hasn't learnt, taking his hand in her deft fingers to set a diamond band upon it: "-and Nathan, I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow, with all that I am, all that I have, and I honor you, in the Name of the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." She smiles at him.

Cecil once more raises his hands in benediction. "Nathan and Janet have now given themselves to each other by solemn vows, the joining of hands, and the exchanging of rings. I hereby pronounce them husband and wife; in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 21:52, Sun 18 June 2023.

At that pronouncement, Nathan can contain himself no longer, but brushes his hand gently about his wife's cheek and asks her permission with a simple glance; she lets him kiss her and a great deal of tension goes from him. The Vicar catches the glitter of an escaped tear of sheer relief trailing down the groom's face, though once he has quenched the need to kiss her he kneels calmly enough beside her to pray.

Sam feels torn over the wedding and how quickly everything had happened. Of course he was happy for the newlyweds, but something still feels off to him - not just that all the men had shared the same dream, but that it had affected Master Fox as well.

He winces as he moves to get up from the pew, silently wondering what could have driven Jim to attack his master. As he leaves the church, he will ask which way the doctor went - while his ankle would (hopefully) recover after some time, it still wouldn't hurt to get it looked at.

Cecil addresses the entire congregation "Let us pray together in the words our Savior taught us.

"Our Father, who art in heaven,
    hallowed be Thy Name,
    Thy kingdom come,
    Thy will be done,
     on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
    as we forgive those
     who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
    but deliver us from evil.
For Thine is the kingdom,
    and the power, and the glory,
    forever and ever. Amen."

Having no servant with him for witness and no subtlety in attempting to leave, Sam finds himself firmly halted by those villagers nearer the door. Mr. Rickert, the Fox estate's head gamekeeper, even physically sets a hand on his chest, his dark eyes warning of the kind of suspicion Sam's courting.

"Stay," he instructs. "Hold your piss long enough to pray blessing on the couple."
The if you can is silent, but Sam catches it nonetheless.

The people pray. Some speak the words lightly and by rote, others with intensity and fervour, according to their faith and the sincerity of their witness. The Amen rumbles softly about the church.

---

At the altar, the bloodstained groom manages to rise with some little help from his bride and mother-in-law and addresses the Vicar: "Well, I think that was sufficiently witnessed," he remarks, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. "I am somewhat keen to take myself and my Lady Fox home, and though I have no feast as yet I do have a fairly empty house: do you think all is well enough for me to take the inn guests and Mister Collins' family to sleep there, or should I but send down blankets and such to make your pews comfortable?"

"-I do not doubt my servants, but my chamber door is easier to lock than a dozen. At any rate, I will send breakfast, but what is your judgement, Vicar?" His hand seeks his wife's as he talks: Janet takes it and holds to it tightly, quite glowing.

Cecil skims the faces of his flock as he ponders Nathan's generous offer. "Honestly, I am not certain I fully comprehend the extent of what has happened tonight, not can I attest to the state of things without more information. Fox Hall will, undoubtedly, prove a worldly respite for those seeking to put this night behind them, but true comfort is found only in the Lord. We would be most grateful for blankets to stave off the night's chill, however I'll not gainsay any who take you up on your offer. Thank you, Master Fox."

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 113):

Sam glances up to Mr. Rickert with a nod, praying and murmuring an "amen" quietly before he limps out of the church. While he doubted his injury was very bad, it still never hurt to get it checked out.

The gamekeeper lets him go, though Sam hears a concerned exclamation behind him that's probably Hester Collins: her brother Stephen catches up to him at a long lope before his eyes have even adjusted to the outside dark. "Hey! Where are you going?"

In reply to Reverend Palmer (msg # 114):

The impromptu wedding seems to have lifted spirits in general: most people look charmed by such a great event become homely and inclusive, or at most uncertain. The pale supressed-terror blankness of the beseiged seems to have faded from those worst affected. Arnold Swanton doesn't really seem to have got past the first deep drop of grief to be paying much heed, and Bart has one arm over his shoulder, holding him close and quiet, but otherwise the people seem to have generally reverted to talking among themselves, perhaps a half-share of the general attention towards the altar in case something else should happen there.

"Eminently sensible, as always," Master Fox says with a smile, and kisses his wife's hand and leaves her to hug and say what she will to her parents before her first night without them to go and address the people with his proposal.

Janet holds on to her father awhile, and with a slight nervousness hugs her mother: the latter sighs after a few moments and seems to drop the tension that's been high between them. In a short while, Lady Fox's husband beckons them down to the main throng of villagers, who seem to be gradually sorting themselves into groups according to destinations and the end of conversations.


John Collins approaches the Vicar, his youngest child held quite asleep against his shoulder: "We'll be staying here until morning," he says, deep concern still in his face when he glances at the Squire's party.

"Hold up," Mr. Rickert says whilst retrieving his new mistress' cloak across the aisle, then raises his voice to carry as far as his master: "-sir, the horse mask is gone."

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 116):

Sam glances over to the lad, offering a smile before he slowly straightens up, trying not to put much weight on his injured foot. "I was going to try to find the doctor. I want to get him to look at my foot after I injured it. Help me find him, would you?"

[[GM edit: word tweaked for sense.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:11, Tue 27 June 2023.

"Uh...I think it was Jim Stone he was seeing to, I heard they was both wounded, him an' the Squire. I'll get us a light and go with you for witness - just let me go tell my Dad first." Stephen hastens to do as he's said, leaving Sam just outside to contemplate the occasional dark shapes of night beasts moving about in the churchyard.

[[Sam, I'll move you over to the other thread when I know you've read this. Cecil, assume you see Stephen sneak up and give notice to his father that he's heading over to the village cell.]]

Sam nods to the lad. "That sounds like a plan. Let's go find him."

Stephen gets permission and reappears with an appropriated bedroom candle, offering his shoulder as they move off into the night.

[[Right, Sam is off-thread. Your move, Vicar.]]

Cecil nods to the Collins patriarch and gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You and yours are always welcome in our Father's house. Make yourselves comfortable." He chuckles, then breaks into a hearty laugh. "I would offer you use of the guest rooms in the vicarage, but at the moment we have the slightest of stag infestations, not to mention a certain warlock who is feeling very put out over the accommodations chosen for him."

The innkeep looks perplexed, gently setting a hand over his son's head at the laughter as though it were something that might bounce off. Behind him, nearer the door, the Squire has drawn into soft and concerned discussion with his gamekeeper.

"Stags? You've been troubled by more of the mazy beasts? Beth said something about it, but..." he trails off, frowning. "-and the warlock is the old Fox lad? Did he tell you anything about how and why he's out of the Wood - if he killed Mistress Durbin, or who did so for him?" John Collins sways just slightly to monitor the more bloodstained of the wedding party, sharp enough to have picked up that it's not the Fox devil's relative that their holy man has brought this up with.

Cecil lowers his voice in response. "The only person I can confirm Edmond murdered is poor Elsie Sawyer. He said very little save to threaten my life unless I helped him dispose of her body, but the Good Lord gave me strength to smite the devil where he stood." He notices then how many of his flock have departed. "The stag in question tried to batter its way into the vicarage when Edmond fell, crashing through a first storey window eventually after scrambling atop the privy. I can only imagine what a mess it's made of the room. The Widow Sexton and I locked it in, and it would be hard-pressed to break open the trunk in which we secured Edmond's... fragments."

The notion that a revenant fiend would seek to conceal his actions brings a frown to the innkeep's brow. "She sets value on him, then, at least...but if not for the wood-witch's purposes, why do murder? And if it's for his own sake, why seek to hide it? I admit, in all my years here I've thought little of the local tales, and suddenly here we are up to our necks in the midst of one."

He shakes his head. "Well, any of your flock will be pleased to put you up where they might. What will you do with this Edmond, especially when our Fox calls on a hunt for him? He might involve the King's men, who'll doubtless want to see this new body and bring in the coroner if they hear of it."

Cecil shakes his head, frowning "Edmond seems sufficiently perverse that he might commit murder purely for his own entertainment." He chuckles lowly. "Unless he's somehow escaped the iron bucket into which the Widow Sexton and I scooped the detritus of his person, there's no need to call a hunt." He raises his eyes to John's face. "I honestly haven't the foggiest how to deal with the stag, other than shooting the beast. I fear I'm not much of a hand with anything larger than a fowling piece, alas."

Thus brought to mind, it is hard to forget the perversity of the Wood-devil; Cecil has to force down all the recollections that come with the memory of that taste of blood playfully, eagerly shared with such wicked intent. John Collins presses his point: "Why then so few murders - not that I'm ungrateful - or the seeking to hide it? He can hardly be hanged for his crimes. There's some bargain on him, I think: that he holds off on acting as such a devil might act, for a while or on these people, and benefits by some greater favour."

He's quiet a moment, thinking. "Will you tell our Fox about this? I...should tell you," the inkeep's voice drops soft, the almost Irish Liverpool lilt making his words clear to a man of higher class even as it would blur them to a local: "Master Sexton told me he thought Stone would carry out his attack, and we sought to stop him...Jim didn't name the Young Squire, but claimed a man of importance had killed his friend in a fashion so clever that without he broke his vow to the dead, and told what the girl had sworn him to silence for seeing about the grounds, he should never be believed by the law."

The question of the stag occasions another pause. "If you can keep them penned and take up a bucket of stream water for the stag, I'd give it a day to see if Her influence might wane. Were it some normal beast caught in a house - amazed by a hunt, or sick - some men with doors could funnel it out without much risk of injury. Unless you thought to have the venison...I could probably roust up a handful of men game and foolish enough for your firing-squad, if you gave them a share."

Cecil admits his chief concern. "Edmond was dressed as if preparing to assume my place. Had I helped him hide poor Elsie's body, doubtless I'd have joined her in death. Perchance 'twas meant to regain access to the old standing stone, but why now? Why not a generation ago? Or two?" He gestures vaguely toward the sanctuary. "All I can think is that it doesn't reckon time as we do."

He regards Collins for an overlong moment before shaking his head. "I am not certain whether knowing this would help or hinder our young Squire. What kind of unholy wedlock might he have been bound into, had Edmond presided over a false wedding rite? Would poor Janet have been murdered in her marriage bed? Have both been saved from whatever dark fate might have been at work? I can only hope."

The innkeep is quiet awhile, taking in each troubling thought. At length he stirs, recalled to himself by some small movement of his son, and still slowly comes out with a reply, his words trailing off into uneasy musing: "...yes, Lady Fox must be protected at all costs. Though I wonder if that's what got us here."