Maggie squats and pulls Bart up onto her back again. She stands and watches Mr Lovelace tend to Andrew's injuries.

"The bleeding will stop soon if it hasn't already, but we'll need to keep the pressure on and change the bandages every two hours or so. Get some rest, drink plenty of small beer. Something to eat - meat preferably. Drink some gin if you've got it. I do say...a brandy flip wouldn't hurt either," he said as he put his things away.


[[GM edit: not poisoning Andrew.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:20, Fri 13 Aug 2021.

Andrew's mother crouched by him as the doctor backed off, offering her shoulder and strong back if he'd like help to stand. She said nothing to him of the dangers of skittish animals - they knew those well enough, all the moreso perhaps twenty paces from where his father died - though the colour returned but slowly to her cheeks.

"Come now, Vicar, he was but seeing off the stag - who knows but it'd have stood so 'til Doomsday if he'd not gone to shoo it. We had a rabbit climb in the window and put itself right under the knife...something strange's about this morning, for sure."

"Oh, we had a pheasant try to climb into the oven this morning," John Collins put in. His youngest, George, waved to Bart and Maggie from his father's back, doubtless stowed there to run.

"Huh. Coveys, we 'ad, tryin to get in our top window," Mrs. Criddle said, sounding startled to find someone else had shared strange encounters with gamebirds.

Andrew gave Palmer a wan smile. “I believe he may be in the right, mother. I think I’ll truly owe you a confession soon, Reverend. I’m afraid that bit of foolishness went against ’Ye shall not tempt the Lord your God’.”

He listened to the doctor’s instructions in full, nodding in understanding. ”I suspect my mother has a bit of brandy tucked away somewhere, though I doubt this is the sort of occasion that she wanted to draw it out for,” he said, carefully rising to his feet, ”I’m obliged to you, sir. I hope I didn’t keep you from any other folk in need of your attention. I’ll certainly buy you a beer the next time you come round to the Hare and Sheaf.”

He nodded gratefully to Margaret. ”Many thanks to you, Miss Yendale.”

For a moment, his gaze went to the trees where the stag had fled. Silently, he wondered where it had gone. He could still see the beast perfectly in his memory, its color like that of the night sky.

Returning his attention to Lovelace, he asked, ”What do I owe you for your timely help today, Doctor?”

"It was strange, sure enough. At one point it looked as if the stag wanted to leave.... but couldn't. Reared up and made a noise of the like I've seen when I spooked them on my morning rounds...."

He stood with the rest and would take the load when Andrew was fit to be moved.



-

"He's right, at that - looked like the beast tried to bolt'n then just stopped up there and came down again," Bart said, having nodded to little George in greeting.

[[Dr. Lovelace, do you want to give me an Appraise roll for the precise worth of your services, should you be stuck on that? ...or mention any weird wildlife behaviour, since that's under discusson. Vicar?]]

"For now, just take care of yourself. I'm sure I'll have a surprise repair that I need soon or late and I'll know who to call," he told Sexton.

OOC: Assuming a barter economy is fine for this type of exchange, I think I'd prefer that to running a 18th century healthcare sim mini-game.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:39, Tue 17 Aug 2021.

"Mornin, Miz Temp'rance." Maggie says quietly and bobs a curtsy made awkward not only by the rough ground underfoot, but also by Bart on her back. She finds herself somewhat tongue-tied at Bart and the doctor's conversation. She shifts from foot to foot eager to get her rider back to the inn and off her back.

"My man Polzeath thinks the stag was possessed by the devil. Of course, we had a hare that came into the house which he also believes was similarly possessed. The hare behaved strangely as well, making the most peculiar sounds, which sounded strangely like human laughter. The Reverend was about to weigh in on the subject of said devilish possessions when Miss Yendale called our attention to the goings on out here," he said.

The Reverend slowly bobbed his head to the left and the right.
"I don't know about possession. There was certainly something off about the hare and - by the sound of it - that stag, but the Adversary is not known to run. Especially when barely threatened. It might be a ruse, you can never be too certain, but maybe a lesser servant of the Prince of Darkness? Maybe a summoning gone awry? We would certainly need to know more to be certain."

”It did seem as though there was something…within the beast. It was as if it was sent here, compelled to come to fulfill some purpose,” Andrew said. The carpenter paused and shook his head. ”Or that might be nothing but the fear of the moment speaking. It just seemed that the stag wanted to run, but…couldn’t. It was as if something kept it on the green.”

He looked to his mother. “Are Lucy and Robin well? Not too frightened, I hope?”

"In the absence of a particularly comely doe, I don't see what it could have wanted here that it couldn't have had somewhere with far less people around," he mused.

"Mornin' Maggie," Widow Sexton greeted Maggie over Bart's uncertain _{"Hey! Hey! Hey!"} at the bobbing. "Well, Robin and Lucy will be hid down as they was told, seeing as I'm out here set to save you from the Fair Folk or the Devil or both, hearing all that," she replied to both her son and Maggie's unsaid question at once.

"Seems someone's summoned half the woods here," Martin Easom observed from the crowd. "Mazy animals all over the place, sounds like."

"Not laughing, though - and Goodie Westcott's not here," Sam Smith the smith observed from somewhere nearer the back.

"Maybe she's taught Mistress Durbin the trick of it, going about being a hare," Mrs. Criddle suggested with some small shot of poison, and got a sharp look from Widow Sexton in response.

"-or being a maiden sacrifice," some old inn-guest added as though in on a joke, which brought out a general mutter of uneasy speculation.

Thomas was uncomfortable with such talk and speculation, so he stayed silent and helped his friend as best he could. Which as it was, seemed not much at all.


-
This message was last edited by the player at 10:37, Fri 20 Aug 2021.

Maggie was struck by the absence of the wise woman.

"Mayhap someone should go let Mercy Westcott know about th' goings-on," she ventures, "I'll go, an I c'n drop ye back at the Hare, Bart."

"Best place to set me, I'll give y'that," Bart allowed, then dropped his voice very low in her ear as Sam and what sounded one of the Ragge siblings made noises about following on to witness.

Widow Sexton looked torn, since a current was growing among the villagers that was set to go interogate the older woman about the morning, for better or worse, and yet the young people were still hiding in the house she'd left, maybe worried for all their lives.

"Come on, all you, there's no need for everyone to go see if our curewife's a hare-" John Collins began, but some young voice piped up from the back:

"-what if she was tryin t'cure all this happnin, sir? An' if the black stag got her first?"



[[a quick summary here for the sake of clarity: current options are to encourage villagers to disperse and listen to anything John says as a before-you-go, which'll be an invitation to heh, meet in a tavern, or to go hunt down check in with the village definitely-not-a-witch with more or less of a crowd. Or some other player-created option, naturally.

Oh, and Dr. Lovelace, Appraise rolls are for barter: utterly failing one would be more likely to result in going blank and requesting a frog than misjudging a monetary amount. ...and I still need to fix the doctorin' rules - remind me to attend to that Sunday, will you?]]

Maggie nodded at Bart’s advice and sloped away as the others began to debate the best action. She went swiftly to the inn and deposited Bart on a bench in the tap room. She snatches off his hat to buss him on the top of his head and ruffle his hair as she might an old, favored dog.

Then she ducks out through the deserted kitchen, gathers up her skirts and fairly runs along the path to Mercy’s cottage.

The fussing got Maggie flailed at with oath-like noises, though none of it truly serious. By the time she slipped through the kitchens, avoiding the sound of Nancy fetching something elsewhere and tantalised by the smell of mutton stewed up in curry she was pretty sure she'd been called a teapot and a basted leg of lamb.

It didn't matter, anyway, now she had a mission: Maggie hustled across the turning yard, vaulted the fence at an angle that both avoided the end of the tannery ditch and threw her forward for a run on soft grass on landing.


[[Since no-one can see Maggie taking a back route there, I will get her her own mysterious and unseen thread to be on in the morning. Carry on!]]

"Now hear, I'm sure that the solutions Mr. Collins can provide are far more scientifically sound than some others we might come upon in the village," he said.

"There are matters that we have been empowered to resolve on our own through our study of the natural world around us, and matters that can be entrusted to our Creator. For the former, we can study and for the latter, we can pray, and anything between those is pure superstition or needless."

"Now, there is much in the study of animal behavior that might cause the behaviors we've observed, and much which we might yet learn. Best I think rather than focus on finding more mystical solutions to the problems, we can deal with these animals the way we've always done. A hunt for that peculiar stag perhaps, and any hares exhibiting strange behaviors is in order. But first, perhaps at least for me, a drink. What say you to that, Mr. Collins?"

OOC:

Martin searches his mind for anything he might know about animal behavior that could provide a rational explanation for what he's seen.

13:29, Tue 17 Aug: Martin Lovelace rolled 35 using 1d100.  Natural World 50.

"I think that sounds like a very good idea, Dr. Lovelace - the drinking part at least, and getting warming food into your patient here."

"Oh, you can't hunt hares in the village, nor anywhere in sight of the Wyzenwood, my Mum says," put in Hessie Collins, having come quietly up behind her father and brother at some point. "It's terrible bad luck, maybe cursed. Sir." She flushed slightly at the attention on her, having spoken up.

"Hm. As for explanations, I don't believe women turn into hares, be they witches or otherwise. I suspect the animals have met with some kind of poison, and as for Polly's disappearance...well, I've become of a mind to get searches organised, since we've not found trace of her in separate wise. We can discuss that in the pub." The landlord nodded that way. There was some murmuring as folk made excuses or tried to show willing, most fumbling in apron pockets for whatever they'd left off to come look.

"Well, I'm going to check up on Goodie Westcott - that Mags has run off," Samuel Smith said, and squeezed past Tom for a more direct route with a "'scuse," that said he honestly resented a man taller than him.

"Well for my own part in this I have seen animals, especially wild ones do all manner of strange things be it bird or beast. That being said this was something else, something darker perhaps." Thomas rubbed his chin before adding "Yes a drink to steady the nerves. Lead on...."


-

Andrew grimaced at a brief twinge from his wound, mindful that it would likely be tremendously more sore on the morrow. He would likely need to watch himself within the shop, not attempt anything that was especially taxing. Even so, he reminded himself, he had much to be thankful for.  Most especially, that he was alive and didn’t bear more grievous injuries from the stag.

Hessie Collins’ words drew his attention, his thoughts briefly drifting to the Wyzenwood and the fear that it commanded. He couldn’t dismiss the lingering suspicion that he had that somehow, it was those woods that the stag had come from.

“I can come with you to see to Lucy and Robin,” he told his mother, “but I think I should go over to the Hare and Sheaf shortly. If there are some that are going searching for Polly, I want to be among them.”

Thomas turned back to Andrew, "Do not worry Andrew I will get you to that wood one way or another. We can use my cart for the approach."


-

"Wh...which wood do you mean?" Hessie asked, though by the quiet brought by Long Tom's words and the bright white showing in her eyes it was clear enough everyone knew which wood was meant.

"Won't get a horse up by there," Martin Easom observed, but didn't query the notion to search where no local would willingly go.

"That, we can talk about inside," John Collins said, uneasy but accepting the prospect all the same. "Come along, you who're coming."

"You go on, I'll fetch the young ones out," Andrew's mother said quietly to him, though she rubbed his arm in letting him be, assuring both of them he was untrampled, his bones uncrushed and safe.


[[Unless anyone has anything of great urgency to add in here, I'll start a thread where you can all...well, meet in a tavern this evening.]]

"Well, far be it from me to question the wisdom of your mother, young lady" he said politely to Hessie. "There is wisdom in the words of mothers more of us ought to hear. If we aren't to kill the hare here, we could trap it and release it far away somewhere." Or do the deed somewhere where superstition held less strongly.

"But there is also truth in drink, so let's go have one of those at the pub - and we can discuss plans for searching there."