Charas-Project
Off-Topic => Archive => RP Board => Topic started by: Zerlina on December 30, 2010, 06:33:55 PM
-
The hall was dark and hollow. Large, marble arches rose high and sturdy, disappearing into the darkness of another age. Newt craned his neck as he tried to take it all in. If I dropped a stone here he thought It would probably echo for the next ten years. He stared at the unmoving arches- cold and silent. He felt as if he were inside a whale.
The ancient doors behind him moaned open. Outside (or rather inside, for the hall seemed larger than all the earth), the doors revealed a gray sky and a torrent of snow. Newt squinted, unable to make out the ominous forms that appeared there, so blacked out by the brightness behind them that all their features melted to shadows. With the shimmering sound of mail, and the pounding of heavy boots, the adventurers made their way inside, trailing wet footprints behind them.
“Greetings.” boomed an unseen voice.
Newt’s soul nearly leapt from its body.
Sweet Estella he thought These halls can talk.
“Please, come this way.”
Newt turned around and saw a man in black, almost completely hidden in the darkness of the hall. How long had he been there?
“I am Dougal of Abindale. I will be taking you to The King’s representative.” He led the visitors into a wooden door and up some winding steps “I trust your journey was fair?”
One of the men grunted.
“The king has made arrangements for a feast. After you see his representative I will take you to the great hall.”
The visitors poured out of the narrow staircase, passing through a low entranceway that all but two of them needed to bend to fit through. Waiting on the other side was a small room with three narrow windows. The seat of the King’s representative was the centerpiece of the room. Protected beneath an oak canopy, it was sturdy and practical with only a semblance of effort given to its aesthetic. It was very Galuterran.
The king’s representative was a small man with a red beard. His hair was flecked with bits of white, and his hands were raw from years in the Galuterran cold. He sniffed as the visitors entered, bringing a slight draft with them.
“My friends,” said Dougal, motioning toward the visitors “You may present yourselves.”
-
The knight had followed suit as everyone entered the room, in fact he had done nothing but follow for the last day or so.
Franklin was the knight's name and he did not actually belong in this crowd. It had only been four days since he ended the life of his armour's old master, four days of adapting to the Galuterran culture and this bitter cold.
It was merely luck that he found the location in the first place, but since then all he had to do was follow what everyone else were doing - and that suited him just fine. Just another pawn in the game.
But he had made it this far, the quest of which the previous owner spoke of, to strike a blow against Fortisland and indirectly - Alvergne with it; his hated enemy.
He did not wish to stand out in the crowd and waited till another member of the group introduced himself. He prayed that he would be convincing enough when his turn came.
"Franklin Thornside, proud knight of Galuterra. My quest is to defeat our enemies and protect my countrymen." He said while something turned in his belly.
"I used my real name..."
Luckily enough no one seemed to pay any attention to the name, but some of them grinned at his knightly ramblings about a glorious quest.
But he was done and returned to the wall he was leaning against. That was the hard part, now for the part where he hears the plan and then executes it. Taking orders demanded little of a man's intellect after all.
-
Calanthe followed the others inside, keeping to the back, but not too far, lest he stick out any more than he already believed he did. Everyone else, to his naive eyes, seemed the image of valor and fortitude. Even the scrawny boy ahead of him looked to have more to offer.
He listened as the first knight introduced himself. It wasn't one of his father's friends, or, for that matter, anyone he'd even heard of. Not surprising, given the backwater territory his father had been allotted. They rarely heard of anything.
It won't do to just sit here and wait for everyone else to introduce themselves. Everyone will know how unprepared and stupid you are if you deliberately go last, and do you really want that?
He swallowed hard, then opened his mouth to speak, feeling his slim frame quake with every word. "I, ah, I'm C-Calanthe Ward, son of, uhm, Phaedrus Ward, k-knight of Galuterra. " He was painfully aware of his stammering and stumbling, as well as the slightly-too-high pitch of his voice, but couldn't seem to make it stop. He thought about adding something about being proud to serve his country and king, or hoping his skills would prove useful, but all he could do was try to keep from hiding his face in his hands in shame.
And now you've proven yourself to be the ill-mannered idiot of the group. Fantastic job, Calanthe, really, fantastic. You should have stayed quiet. No, you should have stayed home.
-
An uneasy silence fell over the room. It seemed the bravado that had created this assembly had momentarily faltered. The representative looked around the congregation expectantly, and his eyes came to rest on the man at the back of the room. He would have been swamped by the crowd were he not so intimidatingly large. He made to step forward, and the gathering parted to let him through.
"Stahn Harthar", he said calmly, "eldest son of the Harthar clan of Anthoden". Feeling that a touch of politeness could only be well received, he nodded and added, "a pleasure to be of service".
The king's representative raised his eyebrows. "You are most courteous. I had it on good authority that all northmen were blood-crazed barbarians".
Stahn nodded again. "Many are, sir. But not all".
The representative smiled. "Well, at least the bitter weather we are experiencing lately will not be no obstacle to you".
"Aye, sir". Stahn resumed his position at the back of the room. The congregation didn't seem a bad selection; a few young ones, but no shortage of seasoned warriors, either. Feeling somewhat confident that everything thus far had been satisfactory, Stahn set about waiting for the others to finish their introductions.
-
Newt’s mind fluttered this way and that, taking in the faces of those who he would spend the next months of his life with (assuming there were at least months left). As the knights and adventurers introduced themselves in turn, stating their lineage and their homeland, Newt sniffled. To the small boy these were facts were arbitrary; except for the major houses he was fairly ignorant of aristocratic matters. To be honest, he was slightly bored.
The first man spoke his turn, seeming to waver slightly at the end- had he lost his nerve? And then there was a squeak and a fizzle; an introduction so mousy that it could scarcely be called an introduction at all. Newt turned red, embarassed for the other boy. He thought he heard one of the others suppress a laugh. And then there was a calm voice that to Newt was nearly unintelligible. He thought for sure the man had been speaking another language, but then-
“You are most courteous. I had it on good authority that all northerners were blood crazed barbarians.”
Oh thought Newt, slightly embarassed He wasn’t speaking another language at all...he’s just from The North
The Northerner and The Representative exchanged a few words and then it was Newt’s turn.
“Greetings my lord.” he said, his accent marking him as one of the merchant classes “I am Newell son of Albion. I’m from Abindale.”
Chest puffed out and a smug grin on his face, he felt all to proud to speak- that is, until he noticed a lingering silence, and the heat of questioning eyes on his lanky frame “I’m the armourer...” he added “I fix...the armour...” His voice trailed off, confidence dissipating into the hollow room.
The King’s Representative acknowledged the adventurers in turn.
“I thank you for paying me your respects. There is a lot to say about a man-” his eyes fell on Calanthe and Newt “and a lot to say about a boy who remembers courtesy, even in such times as these.”
He looked at the nobles who made a small audience to the presentation “My lords and ladies, these are our new ambassadors.”
There was a subdued applause and Newt felt the heat rising in his cheeks. He wasn’t used to being the centre of attention. Well at least not from anyone but the youths in his village.
“Go to the feast,” he addressed the nobility “Go and make merry, our ambassadors will join you soon, and they will sit with me at a place of honour.”
The small crowd shuffled out, and when at last the door was closed behind them, the King’s Representative cleared his throat.
“I thank you,” he began “for the task you are undertaking. I know it is a great sacrifice you make, but I assure you that whatever burden you take upon yourself will be returned to you in full when you come home.”
The Representative motioned to Dougal, who approached a set of four oak boxes lined up along the wall.
“These swords, are the finest our craftsmen can make- light, sturdy, and sharp.” he said as Dougal opened one of the chests “And this,” he began as Dougal opened another “is fine armour made by Albion himself. It can be worn beneath your clothes if you wish.”
Newt suppressed a smile. He had worked on some of that armour.
“This,” the Representative said as Dougal opened the third and smallest box “is the seal of the king. Present it to any of our friends and they will know you are trusted by His Highness. Be careful not to use it unless you absolutely have to, lest your identity be known by those who would seek to destroy you.”
As Dougal approached the fourth chest, he hesitated.
“Go ahead,” said The Representative.
The chest was opened with trembling hands.
Solemnity and awe fell over the group.
“I present to you the shield of Estella,” said The Representative “As solid and as mighty as the day the Good God granted it to our Holy Mother. Your journey is the last hope of our people, and of our faith. It is only right that this most sacred relic be granted to you to keep you safe on your travels.”
The shield appeared to be wood and iron, ancient but unspoiled. It was clear that the face of a woman was once painted on it, but this was faded and almost unclear. Still, it was a beautiful face; the most beautiful face.
“Of course, you may not carry weapons to the great hall,” The Representative grunted, surprisingly casually “but tomorrow after you have eaten and rested, you will receive your gifts.
Now, I want you to listen closely, and do not forget these instructions.
Two maps will be provided to you. If all goes as planned you will journey east from here at the City of Agrigola to Wytheall. Your route will take you through Wytheall Forest and up through the border mountains. If you need rest, you may visit the sisters at Wyte Abbey- in fact, I would highly recommend it whether you feel you need to or not. It will be the last friendly leg of your quest.
There will be a series of goat-herder’s paths running through the mountains, though not all of them will meet. Whatever you do, do not stray from these paths, especially at night. Travel south through Mersc Swamp and keep east to stay out of sight of the border armies. When you get to Mersc ask for Alphie. You will receive further directions from there. You must understand, I cannot tell you more- no one can, because no one can know where you will be at all times.
The wedding is in three months. Do not fail us.”
The last words left a heavy note in the air, and all but The Representative seemed sombre.
“Well-” said The Representative “Let us to the Great Hall. You will sit with me, friends. And for the duration of the feast you may be familiar with me. Call me Lathman.”
Dougal opened the door for the adventurers; they were free to go. The sounds and smells of the nearby feast sizzled in the air.
-----------
The stone hall was decorated with boughs of ivy, mistletoe and pine- practically the only thing that could be grown most of the year in Galuterra. On an elevated pedestal usually reserved for the highest nobles, a table waited for the adventurers. An empty space for entertainment and dancing was left in the middle of the room, while along the walls bountiful tables were occupied by the feasting nobility.
Lady Agrigola was already at the table of honour. Pale eyes glittering beneath cascading red locks, she raised her chalice to an inaudible toast. As she sipped the wine, her alabaster cheeks flushed with only the slightest tinge of rose. She was lovely.
To her right was a seat for Dougal, and to her left was Latham’s great chair. Also seated at the table was Lord and Lady Arden, two friends of Agrigola, and fellow patrons of the quest. It was their gold that had paid for many of the gifts.
Lord Arden was a handsome man with a ginger beard and kind eyes; his wife, on the other hand, looked sallow. High cheek bones portruded from her rough, oily skin; she slouched in her chair, head craned forward slightly.
-
Franklin sat on his chair at the table and had actually taken off his helm, he'd rather not done that. He realized though that since everyone else had removed their helmets - he would stand out more with it on than without it.
He let the neck-long hair free for the first time in a week or so but realized that his facial hair must've looked rather unruly after all these months without a proper blade.
But he also realized that he wasn't here to look good, nor smell good. Galuterra itself smelled of nothing during this season but it was impossible to hide that most people in the room smelled of wet sheep. A smell he was most uncomfortable around.
He used this feast to take in as much knowledge he could about country-relations, common likes and dislikes as well as information about where people hailed. When someone finally raised a conversation with him he was well-prepared and acted like a real knight of the realm.
"Sir Franklin Thornside, Sire." Franklin answered a rather drunk noble with a look of wealth who had stumbled over to their table and also raised a rather shameful look on Dougal's face.
"Well, Sir Franklin I am most glad that a real knight took on to carry this burden of our beloved country." The somewhat drunk man said and gave a nod against the two boys at the table.
"Indeed Sire, it would pain me greatly to see such a dreadful army sunder the very beauty of Galuterra, I wish nothing more than to end this conflict before our countrymen, high and low need to sacrifice their lives." Franklin said as he raised his right fist towards his heart - like he had seen two of the guards do.
"Fine words Thronside..." The drunk man began as he wobbled a little. "I just hope that you have the same quality in the field other than words." He grinned widely, Franklin did nothing but nod courteously.
-"Indeed my good sire, indeed." The man raised his cup as a thanks and went on with his feasting.
With the drunk man gone, Franklin returned his attention to the food but left most of the ale standing. He knew that once he took a sip he would be back where he was before this quest. Drunk and miserable, picking a fight with anyone and spitting curses at his hated enemy.
-
"You must excuse him, Thornside" Dougal said "He is from the bogs- a noble in only name and money...hardly one in behaviour. But then who can blame him? You know how those people are."
Servants arrived, moving the first dishes to the side and laying down heftier plates. Kippers, herring, and lamb were piled high in the centre, while along the sides of the table were two towers of scotch pies. Raspberries, cranberries, blueberries and blackberries -as much as would take a week to pick- were laid carelessly in silver bowls, ready to be taken by the handful. A basket of knotted bread was passed around the table, followed by a tiny dish of Galuterran butter.
Newt's eyes grew large as he stared at all the food. He suddenly wished that he had three stomachs. Ranking the lowest, he waited first for the others to take their food before filling his own plate.
"I can't believe this," he said to Calanthe who had been seated next to him "Even on feast days we never eat like this where I'm from. Not even the lord at his manor..." he took a bite of lamb, not stopping to chew before continuing "...then again maybe he does and just doesn't want to share, eh?"
He laughed a little and nearly choked. Quickly, he took hold of his chalice and sipped some wine "I'm Newt by the way, in case you forgot. You're Caranthe, right? I hope you don't mind me talking to you this way, it's just that you're my age and all. And, well, if you want I can address you proper too."
Newt continued to chatter away, perfectly comfortable to talk to the other boy, but not soon willing to speak to his elders until he was spoken to.
"That's an interesting name you have," Lady Agrigola said to Franklin "Thornside- Thornside...where do your people hail from?"
"It must be a small house" Lord Arden added "I've never heard of it."
"Arden, the things you don't know could fill this entire hall," Latham said as he drank, grinning at his old friend to show he meant no harm "But really, Thornside- I must inquire as well. Do tell me about your people."
Servants returned adding more to the table- aged cheddar, snails, jugs of honeyed ale, and puddings were laid out with the utmost care. Newt's eyes looked up to heaven.
"Oh Lord I thank you." he said, bringing up his cup and toasting his maker "I thank you from the bottom of my soul. Here's to you!"
And with that he took a piece of cheese. Devouring a large bite, he turned to Calanthe "Oh good goats, you have to try this." he said, holding the piece of cheese with the bite mark still in it "It tastes like sunshine."
-
Stahn chuckled. He had taken the seat next to Thornside and across from Newt, not wanting to distance himself from the group, or the food. He had come to learn on his travels that a hearty meal brought both pleasure and strength. He helped himself to another serving of lamb as Newt looked across the table at him.
"You've got a warrior's appetite", he said with a smile. Newt kept silent, either flattered by the compliment or intimidated by its giver. Stahn couldn't blame him; he was painfully aware that he looked out-of-place among noble company. He looked across at Thornside, and finding the knight already in conversation with Latham, turned back to his food. He had nearly finished his third plate of food when Dougal gestured to him.
"I trust the food is to your liking, Mr Harthar", Dougal said jovially, "I have not seen your plate empty since we began. I am told you northmen hold marvellous feasts. Tell me, do ours compare?"
Stahn nodded. "Certainly, sir", he said, and the thought brought back memories of the ale-soaked revelry of post-battle celebrations.
Dougal beamed, and muttered something to a nearby servant, who disappeared, and reappeared momentarily holding a large jug. At Dougal's nod, the servant upended the jug and dispensed a flagon of a golden liquid, which caught the light and held it.
"Abindale mead", said Dougal proudly, "Six months matured in oak. Please, taste it".
Stahn got the impression that Dougal was looking to make an impression on the northman, but did not begrudge him the kindness. He picked up the flagon and took a draught of its contents. It was sickly sweet - somewhat sweeter than he was used to - but far from unpleasant. Stahn nodded his approval, and Dougal beamed all the more.
"I will supply another flask for your journey", he said proudly. "Consider it an ambassadorial gift".
Stahn smiled, and helped himself to more lamb.
-
Franklin kept up his face and he knew that he could do it well. There was no need to panic while in a room with more than enough people to flay him alive using their fists.
"Well." Franklin began at Latham's question.
"As you might have already heard by the way I speak - my mother was not of the west nor the north." He said and gestured with his hands to keep his listeners following.
"She hailed from a country to the west once, it was many years ago and she arrived by ship in the east. It was at a time when war began to brew back home and she sought happiness elsewhere, a place where there was beauty and blessings of the holy one, somewhere like Galuterra." He said and smiled widely gaining their agreeing nods.
"She was still very young when she found my father and he soon left her to fight for his country. He came back to see me be brought into this world, but the next time he left - he was not so lucky. He succumbed at the hands of Fortisland while fighting for his home." He clenched his fist to strengthen the drama.
"And when my father died, his father decided to chase out my mother and me. He said that she; who had come from the ocean brought his son's death. And without my father's family she was forced to take back the name she once called herself - Thornside" He said and shook his head.
"What happened next Thornside?" Lady Agrigola asked intrigued.
Franklin cleared his throat and nodded deeply.
"Very well."
"My mother soon found a lord in need of a maid, one who was kind enough to have mercy on a woman and her child. He had lost his own wife and was left with no heirs. He took me under his wings and learned me the ways of a man. A man who loves nothing but his own country and Lady Estella." He said and bowed his head to show his humbleness at the mentioning of the holy woman.
"But I'm afraid that trouble struck again. My mother began to have visions, madness perhaps. And my lord had to look after her... And one night I awoke at the sound of flames surrounding me. An omen I thought, and went out to find my lord. He was trying to calm my mother down but she would not listen. I saw her run back into the burning building and never come back out. I was but a young boy but my lord explained to me about my mother's fate." He lowered his head and held his right fist to his chest again.
"Oh dear, what a tragic tale. "
"A tragic tale indeed and yet it is the foundation that my life has been built upon." Franklin explained and bowed.
"It is only reasonable that I seek to do my father proud and fight for the country my mother loved so dearly. A country so close to my heart." He concluded and nodded while raising his cup into the air.
"For Galuterra." He said and emptied it.
He let his head fall a little then pulled it up again.
"I think I should excuse myself for a moment." He began and knocked some of the joints of his armour.
"We'll be away for a long time and I rather not have to halt my quest because of rust." He said while smiling and nodding at everyone at the table before leaving his chair.
"Sirre Tronslide!" The drunk noble called as he moved closer.
"My dear sire, allow me to escort you to some fresh air." Franklin said and offered his shoulder for the man's arm.
"I'm the one escorting you, knight." Said the drunk and almost fell as Franklin caught him.
"Very well, I'm allowing you to escort me out to some fresh air." Franklin mumbled as he half carried - half dragged the drunk man out of the great hall.
-
James MacChathail snorted quietly, the first sound he had made since arriving. A country child, a foreign bastard, a man even more obscure then he was and a fellow northern barbarian. Truly this was a band of legend.
For all he knew, this was an elaborate joke on behalf of the King. Some attempt to rid himself of a troublesome northern earl. He supposed that he should have put more effort into continuing his line to ensure that at the very least he could continue to be a thorn in the king's side after he had been killed off. But then, if he had he likely wouldn't have encountered a opportunity like the one he found himself in now. Despite the mutual animosity between his house and the throne this was quite possibly the best chance his house had to step back into its' rightful place.
James sipped lightly on the admittedly excellent drink in his goblet. Setting his drink next to his plate he tented his fingers and looked over at Franklin. "One would be inclined to think that such a litany of misfortune would render you immune to further disaster. Or perhaps you are to be a lightning rod for our misfortune on this trip."
-
Newt was silent for a moment, a scotch pie having occupied his mouth. He listened intently to Stahn, cheeks turning red slightly from being spoken to by a noble.
“Yes, I do, my lord. That’s what my father always says- Newt, you could eat as much as any two boys your age,” he gulped and coughed a little “My mum, she says that when I die they’ll carve it on my tombstone: Newell son of Albion- Heart like a lion. Face like an angel. Stomach like a hog.” He grinned a little, excusing himself for a moment to wash down his food with some wine ”I like your accent if you don’t mind me saying so. But it’s hard to understand for folks like me. Well- I mean it’s hard enough to understand all these fine folk around me what with their ‘hithers’ and ‘thithers’ and ‘miladies...’ yours I’d say is about three stones harder to understand. Oh, wait til I tell my brother I met a real Northman. He’s going to be so jealous! Is it true that you have dragons and wildmen in the north? And that sometimes it snows so much you lose tall men on their own doorsteps? I heard there was once a man who went out to answer the door and it snowed so hard that he got stuck and the only reason they could find him was because they could see the top of his hat! My brothers used to say if they ever went to the north they’d wear tall hats- but I say, if I ever go I’ll wear tall boots!”
Newt hardly noticed that a silence had come over the others at the table. His focus shifted to Franklin as he told his tragic story. Feeling a little bit ashamed for having been such a glutton throughout, he resigned to just nibble a bit of cheese until the tale was done. When at last Franklin had finished, and left the table, Newt resumed eating.
Lady Agrigola wiped a tear from her eye “Such a sad tale, such a sad tale.” she said
“There, there, my dear,” Latham comforted her, before turning to the rest of the table “Women!” he said.
“Aye” added Lord Arden, raising his cup “I say a toast- to all the lovely women of Galuterra- the loveliest in the world! May they remain ever beautiful, and ever willing!”
The men toasted though the women remained motionless.
“Aye!” chimed in Newt, toasting before turning to Stahn “What does he mean willing?”
-
Stahn chuckled. "That wouldn't be my place to say, lad", he joked, "And less of the 'my lord', eh?"
Newt blinked. "Are you not a noble?"
"No more than you are", Stahn replied, "In the North you raise a family or you take up sword, axe, spear, and you fight for your country. I'm the eldest of three brothers, but I've never been much for hunting or farming, so I became a warrior. But in the end, I suppose I couldn't keep doing it forever. So here I am".
Newt looked incredulous. "And the armies, are they-"
"Line upon line of wild-eyed barbarians", Stahn finished with a smile. He didn't mind telling the boy a half-truth; the only barbarians he'd fought alongside were the men charging by his side ahead of the shield-wall. Still, those days were behind him now.
"Oh, regarding the snow", he finished, leaning across the table with a smile and lowering his voice, "You heard right".
-
Franklin left the festivities behind him and pulled the man out into the corridor and nodded at the guards at the doors.
The man sat down on the hard floor and Franklin watched back into the great hall.
"Finally some fresh air, the smell of the people and the taste of their food is killing me." Franklin pondered as he saw the people at the table enjoying the feast.
It was a feast that he could not fully enjoy, it marked the hope for their country and it was a country that Franklin cared little for. All he wanted was to thwart his hated enemy.
He patted the drunk noble on the shoulder and the man wobbled a little while giggling.
"You feeling better good sire?" Franklin asked the man as he grinned widely.
"I do indeed Thornslide! Could you please take me back to the ale? I haven't had enough yet." The man said while grabbing Franklin's gauntlets.
Franklin helped the man up and brought him back in, he feared that the man had indeed had one too many drinks but it was not his place to speak up about it. He would stand out as little as possible and return to his table and eat the food provided to him.
He just hoped that the tragedy of his tale had overruled the fact that he left out most about his knighthood.
He took his seat next to the northman and heard him talk to the boy about snow or something of the type. Franklin could only think that the snow around this area was more than enough for him.
-
Newt looked sternly at Stahn for a moment.
“That,” he began “is so unbelievably fantastic!” the boy clasped his hands together “Oh, if I could write, you bet I’d write everything you said down so I don’t forget. I can’t wait to make my brothers’ turn green. And Melda- she’s a girl from my town- she thinks she’s fine because she’s got huge chebs but wait til she hears this. What’s a couple pounds of fat to a story like this?
The soldiers- how do they fight in the snow? Do they wear really tall boots? I bet they wear tall boots! And the wildmen-do they get along with the others? Is it true they eat each other? My brother likes to play Wildman with Cynthia the potter’s daughter sometimes. He chases her around the wood-lot and says he’s going to eat her if he catches her.”
Dougal sank slightly in his chair “You must excuse the boy,” he said “Not everyone from around here is as crass or...ill-informed as this young lad.”
“My neighbour said Northmen can have fifteen wives. Sometimes all in one night, whatever that means.”
Dougal drained his chalice and poured some more wine.
As Franklin resumed his seat at the table, Lord Arden began to speak “Thornside, you made the poor Lady Agrigola weep,” he laughed, discretely “It’s a good thing you went for air or you should have seen one of the less flattering sides of our Lady’s countenance.”
“You are too hard on my wife, sir” said Latham “She is flattering in any light, be it blubbering or merely weeping.”
“MacChathail,” began Lord Arden “You seem awfully quiet. I apologize that there is no one here of substance from the North, but you people so rarely join us in the capital- it is difficult for us to get word to you. I hear that the Macfies in Weswind are a lively bunch, but then, aren’t you all?”
“Perhaps,” began Lady Arden “You could tell us more about Kinnoul. I doubt anyone here has ever been up that far”
“Why would anyone here ever go up that far?” Lord Arden laughed “those who live there don’t even wish to go up that far.”
Latham cleared his throat, “Even so- tell us if you wish, Kinnoul. It is always good to hear about what’s going on outside of Agrigola.”
-
With a polite smile, Stahn nodded to Dougal. "Think nothing of it", he said. He did not begrudge Newt his curiosity; there was a time when all this - the South to him - was foreign, with its bizarre customs and frivolities. He'd learned to fit in, or at least understand, on his travels, but he remained a Northman, and he could forgive the boy for seeing him as such.
He turned to Newt. "For the most part, the armies are much like the ones here. Lines of infantry, with armour, shield, axe and spear. Perhaps a few archers behind if there's need for them". He took another mouthful of Dougal's mead, which he was coming to enjoy. "They wear their tall boots of course, but the snow ahead of them has been trampled flat".
Newt blinked.
"Because", Stahn continued, trying his hardest to assume the dramatic tone of a storyteller, "Before a single arrow has been loosed or spear has been raised, the wildmen charge forward. I suppose 'wildmen' isn't the best word for them, they are as civilised as any other soldier. There's a Northlands word for them which means 'he with fire in blood'. As soon as the enemy draws close and the shield-wall begins to advance, these men, wearing only the clothes on their backs and wielding whatever weapons they choose, break ranks and rush the enemy, cutting down any who dare resist their charge". Newt was wide-eyed by this point. "Men like me", Stahn finished.
He took a long drink of his mead. "But that was when I was a youth", he added, "And I think with age perhaps my blood has lost some of its fire". Stahn looked over at Dougal, who had been watching him intently. He half expected Dougal to ask him more questions about the warriors of the Northlands, but he simply gestured to a servant who delivered yet more mead.
"You must have been quite the warrior", Dougal said with a smile.
-
The feast continued long into the night and many hours later, even the fortuitous Newt had had his fill and rolled on to bed.
When the last of the warriors was fast asleep, a vacuous silence fell over the castle. For a moment, even the stars in the sky went dark; the world was as vibrant to the living as it was to the dead.
Llithe en duram eis duran a voice in many voices slithered through the halls Llithe en duram eis duran. One by one, the adventurers awoke. Though each in their own chamber, they all saw the same-
a woman pale as starlight stood at the foot of the bed. Her hair was shimmering, colourless, falling in misty tendrils upon the floor.
“Llithe en duram eis duran” she whispered, her mouth as intangible as the chill at dusk “They know who you are. They know your secrets. Run and keep running. Trust no one.”
Her wandering eyes drifted sadly and aimlessly before rolling back into her head. Her whole body seemed to dissolve and twist into nothingness, contorting and finally dissipating.
Suddenly, there was a scream, and the stars lit up (if they had ever really gone out at all).
Newt was the first one at the scene of the scream, his room having been situated the lowest in the keep.
What he saw made his heart skip a beat- Dougal lay lifeless on the ground, twisted and contorted in the same way The Dream Woman had been. His bones were broken and cracked, his back snapped, and his neck backward.
“Help! Someone help!” Newt yelled “Someone’s been ki-” a hand was clasped over the boy’s mouth, and when he looked up, he saw Lady Agrigola’s splendid but somehow unnerving face.
“Go on to bed, young man,” she said “Your eyes are not yet ready for these sights.”
“But-”
“Go to bed. And speak of this to no one. I will fetch appropriate help without causing a stir. Llithe en duram eis duran”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s the old language. It means- keep my secrets and I will keep yours.” She stared at the young boy, her gaze burrowing where it was not wanted.
“Alright, my lady.” he said, reluctantly “I will do as you wish.”
He turned slowly and went back to his room, glancing back only to briefly see Lady Agrigola heading toward the west staircase. He opened his door again, slipping into the next room.
----
“Thornside.” Lady Agrigola said, opening the door to Franklin’s chamber “I apologize for waking you. You are used to death, are you not? Come, I need your help downstairs.”
Lady Agrigola visited the Northmen as well, stating her belief that perhaps there was Northern Sorcery at work. When at last she had made her rounds, she gave instructions to the guards not to travel to the guest apartments. With that done, she returned to Dougal’s vacant body, saying a short prayer that echoed through the halls.
----
“Calanthe,” Newt shook the boy, whispering “Calanthe, wake up. Dougal’s gone and kicked the bucket, and his dead body’s downstairs.”
Calanthe opened his eyes, blinking for a few moments. He pulled the sheets up to his chin.
“It’s spooky; he’s bent all funny,” said Newt “Like he fell off and got stuck in a wagon wheel or something. I think something killed him and twisted him up!”
-
Franklin kneed before the body of the dead man. The urgency of the call had forced him to leave bed without his armour. Well he did wear the boots since the stones were so cold.
From all his experience of death he had never been force to see something so inhumanly broken. In his past there had been gut wounds, there had been missing limbs. But those damages were the result of a man's hand.
This didn't seem like something that a man could have done with sheer force or will. This had to be the work of sorcery, wicked magicians with terrible powers granted to them by the darkness. One sorcerer alone could host the power to wipe out an entire army. From where he came from, everyone who showed signs of magic affinity were... taken care off before they could even become a threat.
He wanted to know things at the moment but realized that it was not the time for such, what magicians were present? Had something like this happened in the past? And would the others simply pretend like that dream never happened as he was ready to? After all, ghosts appearing in the night rambling of nonsense wasn't something he would've expected of this quest.
Something had to be done and taking the lead now would surely make his lacking knowledge of the land and its' rituals apparent to the others.
He joined in the prayers and stayed at the lady's side to make sure that he was there if anything was needed.
-
"How unfortunate." James said, emerging from the shadows as the guards left. He was passing familiar with magic, or at least its' afteraffects. Witches were a constant problem he had to deal with as Earl. But on the other hand, ser Dougal also looked like someone who took a tumble down a cliff face. Or off a tall tower. James was no magic user, thank god, but to his eyes the only thing that seemed truly magical was the fact that Dougal's corpse had found its way here without causing too much fuss.
"Earl Kinnoull. What brings you here." Lady Agrigola asked, looking at him with her trademark pentrating stare. James delt with it like he did with so many other things in the court, and simply let it slide off.
"Well, as someone has decided that it was time to wake up half the castle with his death rattle, I decided that further sleep was futile. So I came here to add my own ignorance to the mix. After all, as far as I'm aware, no one here is witch." James spoke to the the noblewoman as he walked over to the shattered corpse. For the most part his attention was focused on the body that had so rudely interrupted their evening. Perhaps there was something on the body that might shed some light on what had occured. Knealing down next to the body, across from young Franklin, he couldn't resist adding a parting barb before he began to search the body. "Unless have something you wise to share, m'lady."
-
Stahn came downstairs in a considerably less jovial mood than he had been in at the feast. It was not the dreams that had made him restless, nor the sudden events that had woken him; it was more the vague accusations by Lady Agrigola of Northern involvement.
The Lady was looking over at him expectantly. He frowned.
"I don't know what you're expecting, m'lady", Stahn began, "But I'm not familiar with sorcery. Despite what you may think, we Northmen are more fond of steel". He paused. "I once knew a man who could mix a powder from bits of rock and animal bone, and make fire by throwing it in the air. To my knowledge, that may well be the closest thing that exists to 'Northern Sorcery'". Stahn hoped he had not been too scathing, but his point was made nonetheless.
"Then I apologise", said Lady Agrigola quietly.
Stahn nodded. He could not deny that the state of the body was terrible - he certainly doubted that there was any man in a wide area with the brute strength and the disregard for life to have done this. Still, there was little he could contribute here, especially with the Earl, the fellow he hadn't spoken to, still searching the body.
"M'lady", Stahn said after a moment, as politely as he could, "Might I have permission to wander the ground floor? I'd expect whoever or whatever did this is long gone, but they may have lingered a moment, or left clues behind. I'll see what I can find".
"You have permission", Lady Agrigola replied, "But I should not like you to wander the castle unarmed".
Stahn gestured to the handaxe on his belt, thrown on in a hurry at being woken up.
"Very well", added the Lady.
Stahn gave a brief bow of courtesy - what he assumed passed for a bow, anyway - and a nod to Kinnoull, and set off down the nearest corridor.
-
Franklin watched Stahn walk away from the scene, he set out to find something but as far as Franklin knew - magic left no clues to people who did not know magic themselves. People like Franklin who knew as much about magic as a child knows of wolves - they are best to be avoided and not mentioned.
"My Earl." Franklin began as he approached James at the corpse.
"Would it perhaps be wise to move our departed Dougal from this place? I don't see any reason to keep him laying here when sorcery is what struck him down." He said and looked around. There had to be some good place to put him 'till whatever expected ceremonies would be held.
"And besides, what if one of our youngsters see this? They might think of it as an omen and reason to abandon the quest..." He continued and received a sharp glare from the Lady. Abandoning was out of the question after all.
-
"Hrump. If they are scared away by a single corpse, it's best they be scared away now. I should hardly think that this quest will be as simple as killing one person." James said impassively. A search of the body hadn't turned up anything but a preponderance of sticky fluids. Wiping his hands on Dougal's tunic he stood up and began to pace. "And I am not convinced that this is an act of witchcraft. Yet."
An interesting situation this. Either someone quietly threw Dougal off the top of a tower before bringing his body in here and screaming, or they used some unfathomable power to do this right here and slipped out unnoticed. Neither was a particularly appetizing scenario. James turned to the woman. "Mi'lady Agrigola, you were the first one here? What did you see?"
((Okay Zerlina, I know we're supposed to be able to do whatever we want with the NPCs, but it sounds like there's a lot more to the situation then is readily apparent. I'll leave it up to you to have her respond.))
-
“I saw as much as you did, Sir James. One of the boys was here. I sent him back to his room.”
----
With some effort, Newt pulled Calanthe out of bed.
“Oh it’s pitch black here, I can’t see a thing!” Newt grumbled as he walked to the window “What if it’s a witch? What if she comes back for us one by one? We ducked a witch last year but she promised not to do it again...what if she’s back at it and out for revenge?”
He looked out the window. In the distance he could vaguely make out the road to Abindale. It looked so close from high up. He sighed as he watched a crow fly in the sky, dipping this way and that. And then it struck him.
“Calanthe...is it normal for crows to be up and about at night?”
He squinted. The thing swept this way and that on a night thermal, coming closer
and closer
and closer.
At first the boy thought nothing of it, but as the bird came into clear view, it seemed to become much larger than it should have been.
Newt backed up.
“It’s not a c-crow.” he stuttered “It’s a witch!”
He grabbed Calanthe and dove to the back of the room, just as the witch came to the wall of the keep. There was a loud shriek as the thing dissolved into black mist, seeping into the tiny window and re-emerging whole on the other side.
It seemed more monstrous than human. Far from flying on a broomstick, it floated in the air, its very body seeming to disappear into misty rags. Its face was half decayed, sunken on one side; its eyes were black; its pupils red and vacant. Dark hair coated its shriveled arms. Its nails were curled and thick, and small barbs lined its knuckles.
“Sweet Estella!” cried Newt before turning to Calanthe in disbelief “How you can stay so quiet at a time like this I’ll never know.”
The witch clenched her stiff fingers; they made a cracking sound as if they hadn’t been moved in years.
“Fie fie aeria fuerges.” she whispered with the chill of a million dead voices.
The dirt on the floor jumped and rustled as if the castle were shaking. In an instant, a torch flew off the wall barely missing the two boys but not failing to ignite an ancient tapestry.
Newt grabbed Calanthe and ran out the door into the staircase; the witch pursuing them at a pace that seemed hauntingly relaxed.
“Help! Help us!” cried Newt “It’s a witch!”
----
Lady Agrigola turned to the men as she heard the cries coming from up the hall. She raised her hand over her eyes for a moment before letting it fall hopelessly to her side.
“Call the guards.” said one of the men; she wasn’t sure who.
“Whatever it is, hold it off.” The lady ordered before running down the stairs to fetch the soldiers.
----
“Back!” yelled Newt, his voice shaking. He had taken one of the torches off the wall, and now held it feebly out; the witch kept advancing “In the name of all that is holy, I demand you leave us alone...no? Alright...well...what about in the name of my mum? She’s fierce with a rake!”
The witch moved along, paying no attention to Newt’s ramblings. The two boys backed up together, unsure of what to do.
“Look I’m sorry we ducked one of your friends, it’s just- she made our crops die. And Mrs. Lindsay’s baby throw up...”
The boys continued to back up, hoping they could get away; that is until they hit an oaken door. Newt fiddled with the handle.
“Oh God...it’s stuck” he muttered “Why is it stuck!?”
The witch came closer
closer
closer.
Its bony hand reached out, ready to take Calanthe by the neck. Newt could hear the sound of bones beginning to twist and crunch, though the witch had not even touched the other boy. Calanthe brought his hands up, holding them around his neck as if the action would save him. Newt, panicking, heart racing, was frozen for a moment- and then he realized he was holding a torch.
There was a shriek and the creature backed up, its whole body on fire.
“Well,” grinned Newt “That wasn’t so hard.” he laughed nervously, dusting some dirt off of his sleeve.
The door behind them opened and the two boys fell down backward.
“Careful.” said James, sarcastically “Don’t lean on the door.”
“Where’s the witch?” Franklin asked, his eyes scanning the staircase.
“Nothing we can’t handle.” said Newt, helping Calanthe up and making sure he was sound “There was a witch, but we took care of her.”
“I can see that.” said Stahn, pointing behind the boy.
Newt turned and his eyes grew large. The witch rose up back into the air and began advancing again; only this time she was on fire.
“Oh...” muttered Newt, getting up “By the way did I mention that Calanthe was the one that torched her?”
The witch sped past the men, faster than any of them could react. She crouched over Dougal's body like a vulture, opening her mouth and drawing in what looked like dark mist. The corpse convulsed, its flesh rotting as if a hundred years were passing all in a moment. When she was done, all that remained was a withered skeleton in large clothes.
"Give me it." the creature said, in Dougal's voice "Give me what is rightfully ours."
She hissed and the bones beneath her flaming body shook, rising up and re-assembling themselves. The skeleton was walking; it picked up Dougal's sword.
((I leave it up to you guys if your characters went to get their weapons first and now have them, or if they went to help at the staircase immediately and now have to get their equipment, or if they brought them with them in the first place))
-
It was not a thing of the living nor of death. Reincarnated, the very foundation of Dougal was now facing them.
But it was Dougal no more. At this very moment he wished that he had acted and moved the body into something such as a prison, this entire situation would have been avoided then.
Franklin pulled out the shortsword he had brought with him and advanced in front of the others to await the monstrous animated death.
"Now where are those guards at?" He rhetorically asked and remembered the order to hold 'it' off.
He knew not how anything could hold of one that has no life - but he had to try, with a black sword or a naked fist - he'd go with the sword first.
A sword he sure was happy that he took the time to grab from his room before setting out, not only was he prepared now - he was also able to find the northman on his way.
"Stay back you foul beast of decay!" Franklin exclaimed as his eyes went between the bones and the burning witch. Two foul things he hadn't seen nor faced in combat before.
-
Stahn was ready, an axe in either hand. He had half expected to find the castle deserted, and when he heard the noise and commotion he had hurried back, to find the others face-to-face with the smouldering abomination and what remained of Dougal. He felt adrenaline surge, all fear and apprehension fell away, and for a moment the thrill of battle came back to him. He smiled.
He looked over at Thornside, brandishing his sword and calling threats to both foes. It occurred to him that the two of them had not properly spoken, but he was sure that now was as good a time as any to have one another's support. "Any ideas?", Stahn asked quietly.
"It may be wise to hold here until assistance arrives, if it is to arrive", replied Thornside quickly. He seemed to know what he was doing.
Stahn was doubtful. From what he had seen of the castle's guards, they were dutiful enough, but they would most likely not be in any hurry to do battle with so strange an opponent. He felt another rush of adrenaline, and strode forward, weapons raised. He couldn't be sure of the creature behind, but what remained of Dougal was bone, and steel had never let him down on that front before.
Dougal raised his sword, but Stahn was faster, launching a swing from the opposite side to the blade. He expected the crack of bone, but instead the creature - the witch - lunged forward, covering ten feet of ground in a blink. Stahn felt blunt force on his chest and staggered back, resuming his position beside Thornside somewhat more shaken.
"A valiant effort", said Thornside quietly, as the witch and Dougal slowly began to advance.
-
Newt swallowed hard as he saw the two men draw their swords. Well this was it- when it stopped being a game. He of course knew there would be danger on the quest- he’d just somehow hoped they’d avoid.
“I’ll be back,” he said to the others, running up the stairs to fetch his sword.
Smoke filled the floor and he could barely see. Pulling the top of his shirt over his mouth, he entered his room, rummaging in the dark to find his weapon.
----
Franklin turned slightly, hearing rustling at the door where Lady Agrigola had gone to fetch the guards.
“Looks like we might not be so alone.” he said.
The loud bang of a door being barred shut echoed through the hall.
“Never mind. Looks like we’re alone. Very, very alone.” said Franklin.
Newt returned to the first floor, sword in hand.
He watched as Stahn attempted to attack the witch, and how easily he was blown back.
“She’s stronger than us.” Newt said “And on fire. Did anyone notice she’s on fire?”
The witch let go a deafening shriek that tore at the adventurers’ eardrums. At once, their knees buckled.
“Take care of them.” she said to her skeleton warrior.
Dougal’s corpse moved forward slowly, one leg at a time. He swung at Franklin, putting too much force into the attack. He missed, his blade connecting harmlessly with the knight’s boot. One would have had to blind to miss such a shot.
The witch meanwhile moved to the torches at the far wall of the floor. As she touched each one, it went out, but she grew larger as if absorbing the flames into herself. In mere moments the room was pitch black- all except for the witch herself.
"Anyone know how to kill a witch?" Newt stuttered, looking hopefully at where he was sure the two Northmen were standing.
-
His first fight against something that was not a man and Franklin wasn't wearing his armour. The good thing about that hefty full-body armour of his was that it nullified the need of shields. Right now he stood a hallway clad in linen with only armoured boots.
The skeleton continued it's advance and even though Franklin blocked the sword with his - there seemed to be no stopping it.
"I suggest us finding higher grounds" Franklin exclaimed as he used his full strength to push the skeleton away with his sword. What-once-were Dougal staggered for a moment but then kept on walking.
"Everyone up!" He yelled and kept his back to the others until he knew that it was safe to run himself.
As he ran, he could swear that he heard someone say something such as "Running from rattling bones".
--- --- ---
As he remembered - the second floor reminded him much of the first, but the thing that immediately crossed his mind were the torches.
"Brothers, retrieve those torches! We can't let this dark create gain any more charcoal for its' unholy flames." Franklin told the others as he backed away from the staircase, prepared to keep up this protective game of sorts.
-
Stahn could only agree with Franklin. He had no doubt that he could defeat a heap of bones in a fair fight, but with the witch present there would be little chance of that. Dougal lurched forward, swinging his blade wildly and missing Stahn by a couple of feet. Seeing an opportunity, Stahn took a step forward and kicked the skeleton squarely in the chest, sending it careening backwards. With a smile, Stahn turned and ran up the stairs with the others.
Immediately Stahn could see smoke pouring from under the door of Newt's room. The boy had entered of his own volition, and there was no time to check on him. Beside it was his own room, and he stepped inside, hopeful that an idea would present itself. He took stock of the room's contents: a large tapestry, depicting a battle, useless as it was; his trusty two-handed axe beside the bed, probably not appropriate in this situation; the flask of Dougal's mead, which he was saving for later; and the washbasin, still full of water. He cursed his luck at finding nothing of import.
As he turned to leave, it occurred to him that the witch seemed to draw strength and protection from the torch-flames. He picked up the washbasin and returned to Franklin outside.
-
James took up a position at the stairwell as Dougal began to climb the stairs after their merry company. The last time he had seen a creature like this, all that had been left when he saw it was a mangled pile of bones. It had seemed that it had stood up to an entire hamlet of villagers hitting it with farming implements until it finally just collapsed after they had hit enough vital spots. Hopefully with four men actually trained for combat it would take less time.
"Boy, go up to the chapel and fetch some holy water. And while you're at it, get me my crossbow." James said, taking a swing at Dougal as it climbed up the stairs. As he recalled holy water was the best weapon against a witch, especially if it was the witch that everyone seemed to think it was.
"Go!" He barked at Newt, his sword clattering against Dougal's. The boy squeaked and dashed off up the tower once more, hopefully to find the chapel without issue.
"The rest of you, we need to find some way to restrain the witch so we can get close enough to use the damned holy water." He said as Stahn ran off to do... something with a water basin. Perhaps something to do with Franklin's shouting about charcoal and fuel for the witch. Personally, James would have appreciated some help with Dougal. The creature was ungodly strong for a walking skeleton, and it didn't seem phased the few times James' blade had glanced against the bone.
-
((Two floors in NSS's post + Two floors in my post = I can go to the 6th floor))
Newt ran into what he guessed was James' room, picking up the crossbow and bolts before heading up the stairs to the chapel. He sniffed, smelling something funny- incense. Eyes darting this way and that, he took whatever else he could find- a small star (the symbol of Estella), and an incense ball. These he places into the bowl of Holy water. Carefully, he made his way back to the staircase, wishing now that he had three hands.
----
Dougal swiped at Stahn as the witch made her way up the stairs. She headed toward the two closest torches, ready to devour them.
"If you give me what you want," she said "I will let you go. There's no need for you to die. Trust me, I will be kind to you."
Dougal's movements were clumsy and his aim was off. With each swipe his torso fell forward as if the weight of his head were too much. His bony hand braced his fall, cracking where it connected hard with the ground. His pinky broke off. With a crackling sound, he brought himself upright, hardly noticing his lost appendage.
-
As another swipe from Dougal missed, Stahn upended the washbasin, dousing the torches. The witch turned, its face a portrait of indignation, and for a moment Dougal seemed driven by that same rage, lurching forward with blade raised. For a moment, he seemed fixated on locking swords with James, which gave Stahn an opportunity to throw his shoulder into the creature and force it against the wall.
There was the crunching of bone, and Dougal appeared to look down at his crushed ribcage, whatever humanity remained in the bones seemingly wondering why it had not been destroyed by such a blow. Then he was pushing forward again, forcing Stahn back against the opposite wall. Dougal now seemed more sluggish, struggling to keep his head from swaying from side to side, and gripped by the thrill of battle Stahn took another axe swing, catching the skeleton squarely in the side of the skull.
There was another crunch, and Dougal fell to the ground. The witch hissed, and the skeleton hauled itself back to its feet, its jaw now entirely unhinged on one side. Stahn backed away as the witch approached. "I can deal with him", he said finally, "But you're right, we need to deal with her".
-
With James and Stahn caught up in the fight with Dougal's remains Franklin did his best to occupy the witch. The horrifying beast emitted a comfortable heat but he feared that those flames could scorch his flesh. Franklin held out his blade in front and barred the witch's path towards the torches.
Luckily one of his comrades had heeded his advice with the torches and began putting them out.
"Thanks kind sir!" Franklin said as he threw himself out of the way of the witch and watched Dougal's blade soar a meter from his head.
Since the skeleton was focused on Stahn, Franklin raised his shortsword into the air and chopped against the skeleton's skull. The blade struck and the skeleton stumbled, Franklin grabbed one of the legs but felt an awful chill around his neck.
He had been careless and now found himself at the witch's mercy.
-
Iasan awoke to the noise of somebody moving around the chapel. He was groggy, having fallen asleep in a pew after sampling some communion wine. Iasan sat up. After only an hour or two of sleep he still felt the effects of the wine, but he tried to act as though he’d not been drinking. He was up just fast enough to see a boy leaving the chapel with some church belongings in his hands. Slowly getting to his feet Iasan, caught up with the boy, believing him to be stealing from the chapel. Theft from the church was a grave sin in Iasan’s mind (apparently drinking communion wine without permission was not theft).
As Iasan got to the hallway he called out to the young boy “Hey lad, where exactly do you think you’re going?”
“There’s a witch downstairs, brother, we need holy water” replied the boy with the dirty face.
Taking one look at the gold plated incense holder, Iasan confirmed his initial suspicion that the boy was a thief. “Don’t lie to a monk, boy, you were running off to trade chapel property for some sweets and mead.” Iasan grabbed his ear forcefully, “We’ll see what the guards have to say about this.”
“No really, brother, there’s a witch downstairs, and there are knights that need this holy water to fight her.” the boy stammered, trying to escape from Iasan’s grasp.
“We’ll see about that, I’m taking you downstairs to the guards, and I don’t think I’ll be encountering a witch anytime soon.”
With that Iasan began heading downstairs, with Newt barely able to hold on to the holy water and incense as his ear was being pulled on most painfully.
-
James wheeled away from the recoiling remains of Dougal, catching sight of the witch reaching for Franklin. Relying on Stahn to keep the skeleton occupied, the earl wound up a mighty overhead blow. He could feel the heat radiating off the witch, but he wouldn't let that stay his hand. Even for a creature as pathetic as Franklin was, he wasn't going to condemn someone's soul if he could help it.
But as he swung down, his blade just passed straight through the witch's arm. James bit off a curse and changed tack. Tossing his sword down the hall, James grabbed the front of Franklin's tunic with both hands. After a brief struggle he managed the wrench the other man free of the witch's grasp. For an immaterial being of evil it was quite strong, but not as strong as James' bloody minded tenacity.
Stumbling down the hall with the other man, James tried to think of what to do with the damn witch. If it was flesh and blood, it might be possible to hack it to pieces like the skeleton. But a being of fire? How would you defeat a being of...
The large hanging tapestry in one of the side rooms caught his eye. How did you fight fire when it was too cold for a bucket brigade? You smothered it. "Thornside, help me get that tapestry down!"
-
As Franklin’s blow connected with the skeleton, it cracked slightly, buckling forward. The witch let go a ghastly hiss and at once the knight felt as if hands were tightening on his neck. As James took hold of Franklin and pried him away, the witch let go a terrifying shriek.
“Get him! Get him!” she screamed.
Dougal snapped to attention, trying to escape Stahn’s grip. He barely broke free, moving away from the wall but only just. Bringing up his sword he made a weak thrust, just scraping Stahn’s arm.
----
Iasan pulled Newt by the ear, lecturing him about the great sin of thievery- and the greater sin of thieving from the church.
“Please, I’m not stealing. I’m not-”
“Then what’s your story? Tell me the truth!”
Newt gulped “Well...I’m not a thief, I’m an armorer, the son of the greatest armorer in all the country- off on a secret mission for the king. And there’s a flying witch downstairs, and she’s on fire, and she’s killed a man and turned him to bone, and now he’s got up and is trying to kill two knights, and a warrior from the North Continent. So they sent me up to the chapel to get Holy Water so they can throw it on her.”
“That is the biggest load of manure I’ve ever-”
As they rounded the stairs, Iasan stopped.
“You are forgiven, my son.” the monk said, making a sign over the boy.
“Why do you smell like my uncle after a festival?”
Iasan took hold of the heavy, gold incense holder, swinging it a few times to get a feel for it.
“Greetings, lads.” he said to the others “You look like you could use some heavenly help.”
Newt coughed a few times, suddenly noticing the smoke that poured out from one of the rooms. He placed the remaining holy items down on the floor, taking his handkerchief and wrapping it over his nose and mouth.
“Here!” he cried to the others, indicating the Holy Water and the star. There was only enough for one shot with the water and he wasn’t about to take it.
“And your crossbow and bolts, my lord.” he said, passing the thing to James.
He drew his own sword, then, wondering how on earth he managed to carry so much. He must have gotten stronger since leaving home.
((View rolls:
[SPOILER]Skeleton needed 13+ on a D20 to escape Stahn’s grip, rolled 14.
Blind skeleton needed 4+ on a d6 to hit, rolled 4.
+ Damage roll on a D20, rolled 1
= Extremely weak hit on non-vital area. [/SPOILER]
We won’t be using HP for this particular battle since it’s our first one, please use common sense when RPing your character’s damage. We’ll use HP next time and I will post more detailed battle rules before then...also when I've worked out the concrete mechanics.))
-
Franklin held his neck for a moment and took a deep breath before his saviour - The earl called to him
"Thornside, help me get that tapestry down!"
Franklin pushed himself off the ground and hurried over to the man and helped him rip it down. He was unsure what thoughts went through the Earl's mind at the moment, perhaps he meant to restrain the relentless bones?
He also noticed the return of one of the boys as well as some kind of holy man.
"We'll smother the flames" James said as they moved with the tapestry.
"Shouldn't we perhaps wet it first then?" Franklin asked and looked over at the washbasin dropped on the floor.
-
Stahn felt the icy touch of the blade scraping his left arm, but it was a minor wound. He'd become used to such wounds long ago, to the point where the sting only spurred him on. He'd bind it later. For the moment, he snarled, and took the opportunity to drive his elbow into the skeleton's skull. The jawbone cracked and fell away.
Dougal swayed forward with blade raised, looking more to have lost his balance than to be on the attack. Stahn threw the skeleton back against the wall, and the impact caused him to drop his blade. Now with a frightening ferocity, Dougal swung his empty hand at Stahn, catching him across the face. It was a harder hit than Stahn was expecting, and he was dazed momentarily. He felt anger, a touch of the bloodlust of his youth returning to him, and he swung his right-hand axe hard at Dougal's midsection.
The axe seared through the crushed ribcage and struck the spine, crushing it against the stone wall. The torso teetered forward, breaking off and hitting the floor. Dougal still flailed his bony arms, desperately trying to inflict injury. In response, Stahn took a defiant step forward and drove the heel of his boot into the skeleton's skull. There was a sickening crunch.
Now almost entirely flattened against the flagstones, Dougal's arms still flailed blindly, but his efforts were futile. The witch's gaze shot across to Stahn and she hissed with fury. In an instant some of the tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and what life remained in the ruined bones vanished. The skeleton collapsed to the floor and ceased to move. Stahn bowed his head and muttered, "Thank you for the mead".
He became aware that the witch had rounded on him quickly, moving with pure indignation. He stood his ground defiantly, hoping that the others had by now constructed a strategy.
-
Franklin grabbed a full washbasin and left the room the very moment that Stahns powerful stomp crushed what little life was left out of Dougal's manifestation. Admiration towards the northman and what he accomplished was impossible to hide. Perhaps, just perhaps - this country had more to offer than the smell of animals and food that tasted like it reeked.
Franklin wasted no moment and ran up to James with the washbasin in hand.
"I'm all set Earl, let me know when we strike"
-
"We'll smother the flames" cried James
"Shouldn't we perhaps wet it first then?"
Newt heard the order and ran upstairs, grabbing the wash basins on the third level before returning. He placed them down on the floor next to the Holy Water.
What relief the group felt as the skeleton was felled soon turned to dread as the bones began to shake. It was clear that if they did not kill the witch, Dougal would re-assemble.
Smoke poured out from the burning apartment, making it difficult to see and even harder to breathe.
The witch advanced on Stahn, attempting to strike at him. She missed, letting go a terrible shriek.
((Rolls: [SPOILER]
Skeleton needs 9 to resurrect
Roll(1d12)
3
Total:3
FAIL
Party needs 4+ to not be affected by smoke
(Newt has +1 modifier for covering his mouth and nose)
Roll(1d6)
1
Total:1
FAIL
Witch needs 3+ to hit
Roll(1d6)
1
Total:1
FAIL
[/SPOILER]))
-
Seeing Stahn facing off the witch alone, Iasan ran to his side. “The others are going to wet the tapestry so that we may smother the witch. You and I need to hold her here!” cried Iasan. With that he looked at the gold incense holder in his hand and began to swing it above his head menacingly. “God give me strength” he said to himself as he swung at the witch’s body. The incense holder passed through the witch with little effect, having her only move back slightly. “Well I hope the others arrive quickly” he said to Stahn.
“Swing it like a man next time” Stahn yelled at him rudely “You spindly armed monk, have you never fought a day in your life?”
“I usually rely on God’s protection, as I am a man of the cloth”
“Well I think it’s clear that the devil, Belial, is watching over us tonight not God”
With that Iasan began to bless his incense holder before winding up for his next strike.
-
Stahn had dealt with monks before, but never one as lively as this fellow. He gathered from the man's accent that he was from Wintrie - it had been his first port of call when leaving the Northlands, and he had picked up the basics of their religion, though it did not appeal to him. The way the man's slight frame exuded confidence told Stahn he was a religious man; his fervent prayer confirmed the suspicion.
Still, he was brave enough to stand in the witch's way. He swung the ornament he'd brought with him feebly, and appeared surprised that the blow had had little effect. Stahn frowned. "Swing it like a man, next time", he said, annoyed, "You spindly-armed monk, have you never fought a day in your life?".
Another religious rebuttal. It seemed religion was the only language this man understood. Stahn recalled what he had learned, and muttered something about what he thought was the "devil" of Wintrie's religion. At this, the monk seemed satisfied.
Stahn frowned as the man began what was seemingly another prayer. He would not begrudge the man his faith - in his younger days Stahn had spent many a battle fuelled by notions of the Northlands' own pantheon of gods, a complex and warlike bunch - but he hadn't survived this long by praying for strength. Strength had to be earned.
He swung at the witch, which hesitated slightly. She was advancing slowly, and even despite being crushed into the stones Dougal was beginning to stir again. The others' tapestry plan, or a distraction by the monk; either would be welcome at the moment.
-
((Holy **** you people post fast O_o))
"Good thinking Thornside." James said, nodding as the other man doused the tapestry. Wool like the stuff this tapestry was made of didn't burn well. But then it was hardly a natural fire they were trying to smother so it was better to err on the side of caution. Hoisting his side of the tapestry he lead the other man into the hall.
It seemed that Stahn had done something to take out Dougal, good on him. And young Newt had done one better then getting the holy water and found them a monk. Good on him. Perhaps they'd be able to do something aside from immolating themselves now.
"Thornside, when I say 'drop', you drop to the ground." James said, focusing on the witch and the stirrings of Dougal. Without waiting for Franklin's response, the earl charged forward.
James angled on Franklin's side of the monk before angling out to cover more of the corridor. As he did he shouted at Stahn "Duck, man!"
And then he was past Stahn and the witch, and felt a heavy tug as the tapestry caught on something. Without a second though he yelled out "Drop!" and then hit the ground, holding the tapestry under his weight.
-
((They have no life))
-
The damp tapestry fell over the witch. It may as well have been made of iron for the way it held her down. She hissed and struggled, Dougal’s bones mimicking her movement. The room felt colder; as if a large source of heat were removed.
Newt blinked. She wasn’t dead yet. Oh Lord, why wasn’t she dead yet? Then he remembered- two words they had used when they executed a witch in his town. What were those two words?
“Molyus Milikarin...Mofulus Malekaren...?” he tried a few combinations. Why were holy words always so hard to remember?
“Malleus Maleficarum!” a female voice echoed through the halls, and the witch shrieked. In the blackness the warriors could not see who had spoken “Do not forget these words. They were used by our Lord when he extinguished the darkness and brought about day. When she is no longer protected by the elements, these words will make her kind mortal. She is weak now. One blow- hit her with one blow to the heart and it will all be over.”
The voice evaporated as if it were never there. The witch struggled and shrieked, laid bare to her attackers.
-
"Well done men." James said, dusting himself off and standing up. The witch, or ghost, or whatever it was shrieked and writhed but it seemed much weakened then before, leaving them more or less unharmed. But no less bewildered then at the beginning. Collecting his sword, he turned back to the weakened witch. With little sense of ceremony, he set the tip of his sword on the witch's breast and drove it in.
Sheathing his sword with a sigh, he truned to the other to the others. "Now, does anyone have any idea what the hell just happened?"
-
"I don't know." said Franklin "But perhaps we should dwell on this after putting out the room that's on fire."
The men took up the damp tapestry, using it to smother any remaining flames. The piece that had adorned the wall was already turned to ash. Descending the steps, the party breathed a sigh of relief, finally free of the smoke.
"Is everyone sound?" asked the monk.
"It would seem so." James said, somewhat un-enthusiastically.
"Everyone but Sir Dougal." Newt sniffed.
There was a loud clatter and a creak as the door out of the keep was unbarred and opened.
"Oh," said a man in full armour, entering the keep "You are unharmed."
"Why thank you for your timely arrival. And just think, if you had waited another five minutes you would have been able to avoid cleaning up as well." James snapped "And by the way- it is 'you are unharmed, my lord.'"
"I'm sorry, my lord. We received strict orders that any unholy creatures were to be locked away." The guard's eyes darted from one man to the next, observing the ash that stained their clothes and armour "Oh..." he said "Was there a fire?"
Newt drew his sword, but the monk grabbed him by the ear.
"Where is the Lady Agrigola?" Franklin asked, sounding calm despite the situation. He sniffed slightly. Now familiar with the distinct combination of burning wool, alcohol, incense, and corpses, he suddenly found he did not mind the smell of wet sheep so much.
"I..." the captain stuttered "I'm afraid I can't tell you."
"You can't tell us, or you won't?" asked Stahn in his thick Northern accent.
"I...she..."
"I'm afraid my wife has gone to get some rest." Latham interrupted, entering the keep "She was quite hysterical. Fortunately I was...erm...not in my chambers tonight. And was able to put her at ease when she came to find my guards.
I apologize for what you may have experienced. It seems some of my orders were mis-interpreted- it was not at all my intention that you be locked inside. I assure you those who are responsible will be dealt with.
Please, come with me. Let us leave this- who are you again?"
"Brother Iasan of Wintrie." said the monk, shifting slightly.
"My memory is really starting to go..." Latham muttered, leading the men out of the keep.
They travelled down a narrow corridor- the kind that is known to only a select few. As they rounded a bend, Latham opened a small, oak door. He invited the men inside. The ceiling was unusually low, and the floor slightly slanted. In the centre of the room was a table with a few chairs.
"You passed my test." Latham said as the men took their seats "You are truly the warriors that this country needs."
Newt shifted uncomfortably, looking at the older men.
Stahn grunted "You mean to say all of this- the fire, the witch, Dougal's murder and the dream-"
"What dream?" asked Latham.
"It was all a test?" The Northerner repeated.
"All of it."
Franklin looked at the others. Something about this was wrong.
"I wanted to see if you were worth staking our hopes on. Dougal was already dying- he was happy to offer himself as a sacrifice to his homeland and his faith" Latham said, receiving a jug from a servant that entered and promptly left. He poured the men each a cup of wine "What do you say we toast your success?"
-
Franklin was relieved that this was all over. His first defeat over unholy creatures. Witches of fire could get smothered and even the walking dead could be defeated.
But he couldn't let go of the nagging feeling that these basterds didn't deserve the help of anyone. One should never meddle with the forces of darkness, even if to test the saviours of ones country. And even if Dougal was doomed to start with - He couldn't help but to doubt that the man wanted to get so inhumanly broken and left in a hallway.
And then the dream, the dream had come at such great timing - just before Dougal was found. And they said this did not have anything to do with them? And what about those words? The ones he didn't get?
He pushed his feelings inside and watched the other in the room, Latham expected a toast and Franklin would join in even though he had no desire for it whatsoever.
-
Stahn accepted the cup of wine. It gave him something to throw.
Latham responded to the crashing of pottery against the chamber wall with raised eyebrows.
"A good man died today", Stahn shouted, standing up from his chair, "And very nearly the lot of us, too. There are children among us. And noblemen. Even before you send us on our way you put us in danger".
He leaned over the table with a glare and looked Latham in the face. Stahn lowered his voice. "I was informed that a group of adventurers required an armed escort into Alvergne", he began menacingly. "I was not told of our task once there. The man who told me this said specifically that no-one was to be informed. Now, I'd expected battle. Perhaps you'd say it is my calling. I've killed legions. I've cleaved through more helmets and mail shirts than this country has in its armoury. I've torn down shield walls with my bare hands".
He paused, aware of the sudden uneasy silence in the room, but pressed on. What he felt was not a battle-rage, but something much more subtle.
"But never in all my travels and all my battles have I fought a walking corpse and a creature of evil", he went on, "Those are things of pure legend in my country. And if that is the first step on this journey I've agreed to take, then clearly this is no simple escort mission".
He waited a moment. Latham still looked him in the eye, emotionless.
"If you want my services", Stahn said simply, "You'll tell me our mission. For your sake, I hope you think hard before you speak".
-
"Careful," said Latham, picking up his own cup and placing it down in front of Stahn "here in civilized places it's considered rude to throw your food around.
Ask your comrades. I don't know your true mission, no one does except those who the king deemed necessary. I know it is to do with the wedding of Elaine and Bahn. But that is all- I am only a lowly representative, after all...and a marquis" he looked at James.
"My lord," interrupted a voice at the door. It was a guard.
"What?" Latham asked, calmly, soothingly.
"The Lady Agrigola. She's gone."
Latham's face turned pale. He stood up, knocking his chair backward.
"Careful," said Stahn "In civilized countries they consider it rude to throw the furniture around."
"Watch them." Latham ordered the guard, marching out the door.
The guard shifted uncomfortably, looking at the large, armed men in the room.
"I..." he began "Nice evening, sirs?"
The group looked at each other.
The guard was unconcious in less than a minute.
"This seems as good a time as any to make a getaway." said Iasan.
Franklin knelt by the guard's body, removing a set of keys "We will be too noticeable walking around the castle, we will never make it out the main gates. But perhaps there is a different way."
"My lords, if I may," interrupted Newt "I had a cousin who worked at the castle here. She said there is a sewer beneath the keep- it leads to the lake that feeds Abindale and Wythehall. It's usually locked, but..." he looked at the keys Franklin was carrying "Perhaps we might be lucky."
"What then? Are we to be made pawns in a mission we do not even understand?" Stahn grunted.
"Perhaps..." said Iasan "This is not the doing of the king. Rather, one of his subjects who was given too much power."
"Right now we must focus on staying alive. We will think about the quest when that's taken care of." Franklin urged.
James moved toward wine, sniffing it. He wet his finger, touching it with the tip of his tongue "The bastard..." he muttered as he tasted unmistakably poisonous roots- the kind that common folk could not discern, but that those with a developed pallet were sure to notice. Had that been his plan? To kill those who would not be missed?
"Well?" asked Newt "Should we make for the sewer? Or for the main gate, my lords?"
-
"Lantham always was a colossal arse. But," James said, shaking the poisoned wine from his fingertips. He really should have expected something like this from him. Of course, the fact that Lantham had actually tried it was a bad omen for their chances of actually getting south of the border. James strongly suspected that this was no coindicence. After all; "He's also a sycophantic arse. He wouldn't try doing something this extreme without the king's leave."
"Now, as utterly appealing as the idea of crawling though the sewers is, I do believe that we are forgetting something rather important." James said, pacing around the table to stand infront of the group. Escape was all well and good, but there was one signifigant fact that they were overlooking. Surely he wasn't the only one who realized it?
The group looked at him, apparently missing his point. James sighed.
"Our equipment, gentlemen?"
-
Franklin thought deeply and sighed at how the events had unfolded. There seemed to be internal forces working against the success of the mission. If they had this kind of sorcery as well as the mean to poison them - it would be wise to leave while they still could escape.
"I'd suggest the sewers, don't want to make too much a fuss if there are indeed people seeking to end our quest here." He said at last and watched the others in the room.
It's not like it will smell any worse than everything else in this land. He thought and watched the smoked and sweaty party in front of him.
James mentioned the sewers. And the equipment they didn't have. He looked down at himself and realized that he was still just wearing his boots from part of the armour. And with it trousers and the tunic. It was not an outfit made for battle, but would he really be able to survive a walk in the sewers wearing all that heavy plate?
He knew not if he had the time to fetch his remaining pieces of armour but the light armour that the guard was wearing right now might just fit him. Although he wanted to wait , undressing an unconscious man might not be agreed upon by the party.
-
Stahn paced around. Things had gone badly. He was angry at having had to fight for nothing, and angrier still that he was expected to keep fighting without reason or recompense. He sat down and bowed him head for a moment to regain his composure.
"I'd gladly kill every man at the front gate myself", said Stahn finally, "And every soldier of Latham's on the road beyond as well". He sighed - he felt the Stahn of his youth screaming for blood, but it went against his judgement. "But I won't fight an army on my own. It'd take a company of warriors to break through, and we're no company of warriors. We should fetch our equipment and take our chances with the sewers".
He looked at Franklin and the others, thinking hard. He'd never been much of a strategist, but they needed a plan. "Those incompetent guards will be rushing around at the front gate organising themselves. Some of them will probably have gone to guard the sewers", he continued, "I think we'll hit the least resistance moving around the castle if we go now. And if we meet any straggling guards...". Stahn trailed off, and gripped his axes more tightly.
-
"I'd gladly kill every man at the front gate myself"
Said the large man and Franklin smiled, one who was willing to kill his own kind, he liked that. Also he seemed to hold grudges easy. But the man was not just strong - he was wise enough to realize that they were not fit for a bold attempt like that. They could be remembered and songs could be sung about their bravery as they charged a full legion of guards straight on in a heroic manner, but they would probably not make it out alive to hear those songs.
But it was still night a far as Franklin knew, leaving before the larger parts of the guards woke up and realized what they were doing would give them the momentum they needed to get safely outside.
"I agree. Leaving at this instant would be wise, hopefully we don't have to deal with anyone at this hour. I will avoid bloodshed, but only if the situation allows it." He said and only barely managed to hide a grin that was sneaking its' way up.
-
The door from the room led out to the north-end of an L shaped hallway. A large, stone arch at the southeast end opened to a flight of winding stairs- the stairs that led back up to the floor with the keep's entrance. Torches lined the walls, but few of them were lit, making the floor hard to see.
Two guards stood in front of the stone arch, both armed with swords and well-armoured.
((sorry I'm at school right now so I can't type very much))
-
Iasan's equipment was all in his bag which he'd left under the pew he was sleeping on in the chapel, it seemed unlikely he'd be getting it back. His bag contained little that couldn't be replaced, a few bandages, and other medical supplies along with a mace, he would prefer to have it back though.
Fearing that bloodlust might overcome his companions, Iasan said to the group “friends, while you may want revenge for our attempted poisoning, we must remember that the guards in this castle are but mere pawns in whatever game is being played out. Killing them is not revenge, it is murder. Any guards we see, we must try and subdue without causing their death. Now I say we go back and get our equipment. But let us use non-lethal force to silence the guards.” Hoping that would cool the tempers of the group Iasan told them his plan. “You and you” he said, pointing to Franklin and Stahn, “I’ll go ahead acting as though I’ve had too much mead, if we do run into guards, they will be unlikely to suspect a monk of anything but drunkenness. You two follow me, staying in the shadows as much as possible. If we see anybody I will try to get them to turn their back to you, at which point, you two knock them out. Remember, it takes the most skilled of warriors to silence a man without killing him, are you two capable of that?” Iasan smiled to himself after saying that last line, he though it unlikely these men would want to admit they weren’t the most skilled of warriors, they would try to keep the guards alive, simply to prove how good they were.
-
Stahn frowned. He resented the monk's commanding tone, and the challenge he seemed to be presenting in his plan. He found it mildly insulting that he was expected to prove himself for a second time to a man who had yet to prove himself once.
But it was the only plan they had. Stahn moved over to the doorway and peered out. It was dark enough.
"Fine", he said quietly, "But I expect your acting to be perfect".
He thought about the layout of the corridor as he looked out. There was a torch on the far wall, next to which the wall ended. Beyond that were the guards. "Franklin and I will go to that corner", said Stahn, "Lead the guards towards the end of the passage. When they pass the corner, Franklin and I will strike".
He looked around the room, nodded, and finished, "I'm ready".
-
"Remember, it takes the most skilled of warriors to silence a man without killing him, are you two capable of that?"
Were the words uttered by the monk. Frank couldn't help that he felt awkwardly amused by it. Must've been the lack of sleep and witch fighting that caused it. Sure, it took skill to silence a man without killing him, but a dagger through the throat was far easier and less time consuming. Althought he did not want his morale questioned at this point, he would hold to his promise; to avoid bloodshed... if it was possible.
He looked out at the corridor and was happy that his short sword was coated in coal, it wouldn't reflect any light thanks to that - but then he remembered that he wasn't going to kill anyone and sheathed the sword on his right again.
He looked around the room and nodded at the band of adventurers as he moved in behind the northman and spoke with a low tone.
"We are set monk, let's get this over with."
-
“We are set monk, let’s get this over with.” Said Franklin.
“Good, I will bring the guards here momentarily. And don’t worry, my acting will be perfect, I have practice. Many a maiden have believed me to be an important man and spent the night with me, when in reality I’m a monk.” Said Iasan.
“You’re very devout, now hurry up” Grunted the Northman.
“Alright, alright” replied Iasan as he began rounding the corner in the hallway, pretending to be drunk. “Well good eveningtime gentsh.” Iasan said, addressing the guards while walking a zig-zag patern down the hallway, “are you in need of confession… *hic*? Or better yet, do you know any young ladies who would need a confession after meeting me?”
“You are not allowed to be in here monk, go away” replied one of the guards curtly.
“Oh but perhaps God shent me here” Iasan said this while practically falling on a guard.
“You damned drunk, get your stink away from me!” The guard was visibly angry now and shoved Iasan, he was not enjoying the risk of having an inebriated man throw-up on him.
“Now Now, no needsh to be rough. I’ll go on my ways now” Iasan turned to leave while belching loudly, “sorry gents, you know what the mead can do to your shtomach.” He walked to the corner of the hallway before falling over on the corner, “Ahhhh my ankle, guards help me, some evil spirits have stolen my balance from me. Now my ankle is broken damn this castle and its evil spirits.”
“Quiet you, there are no evil spirits, you’ve just drunken yourself stupid is all” said a guard to him from the end of the hallway “if you are going to drink that much you can sleep on the cold stones of the hallway tonight.”
“A curse on those who would leave a man of the cloth in a state such as this, having been assaulted by evil spirits. I will send the wrath of God and Belial down you if you don’t help me, mark my words.”
The guards looked at each other, “alright, don’t get out of control we’ll come and give you a hand, you will wake the whole castle talking that loudly.” With this the guards walked down to Iasan, looking at him lying in the corner. Having them focused on Iasan, their backs were to Stahn and Franlin, who were around the corner. This was the moment to strike from behind thought Iasan, he was confident but scared. Were these two men to fail Iasan would surely hang in the morning.
-
Franklin could not pretend that close-combat was his strongest area, but with the momentum of surprise- everything was possible. The guards wore armour but not the same kind of visored helmet that Franklin had on his Knight attire. Simple helms, almost just iron caps.
The time was ripe as the guards moved, Franklin signalled to Stahn that he was going and snuck up on the closest guard.
He hunched and then moved quick, right hand on the helmet - ripping it off, sending it to the floor at his feet with a dull clang. Then left hand over the mouth silencing the surprised man before the right arm wrapped around the neck. With the right arm put in place he moved the left arm and put even more pressure on the neck.
He pulled the man backwards and made sure that he wasn't able to draw his sword, luckily the weapon and it's sheath was too long for such short range, the guard also realized this as he chipped for his breath and started flailing with his hands to get his assaulter off him. Franklin closed his eyes and endured the punches and grips of the sacking guard. And not before long, the man could no longer breathe and fell unconscious.
Franklin lowered the body to the floor, wiped off his face and gave Iasan a signal that it worked.
-
Stahn smiled, impressed at Franklin's competence. He could recognise technique that had taken time to develop.
The remaining guard seemed oblivious to his partner's peril, and Stahn waited until the man drew closer to Iasan and sheathed his sword, extending a hand to help the monk to his feet. At that moment, Stahn stepped out from the shadow of the corner, seizing the guard by the shoulder and throwing him hard against the wall.
Shocked, the guard crumpled to the floor, fumbling for his sword, but the gesture was futile as Stahn kicked him forcefully in the arm, causing him to lose his grip. Not missing a beat, Stahn grabbed hold of the man's breastplate and lifted him, before seizing his helmet with his free hand and forcefully slamming the man's head against the wall again. Silently, the guard collapsed back to the floor.
"Good heavens", said Iasan, shocked, "That was brutal".
Stahn smirked. "He'll live, hopefully", he replied, "And besides, we should get moving".
-
Franklin looked over as the other guard fell and at that very moment knew that there was no way that he would ever be able to best Stahn in any sort of strength-competition; especially not fisticuffs.
"I'll get the others." Franklin said and moved back to the room to let everyone know it was safe to get back out.
-
Newt had already opened the chest in the room. There wasn’t much in it that would be useful to them, but he did find an empty wine sack which he filled with the poison from the goblets.
As Franklin returned to the room, Newt sniffed slightly “I know it’s a sin,” he said, staring at the goblets “But those are silver, and, well, he did try to poison us...”
The two of them looked at each other, and shrugged, taking the goblets that they could conveniently carry.
The two joined the others in the hall and Newt saw the unconcious guards.
“I know it’s a sin...” he began.
Searching the guards gave the party a deck of rare playing cards and a small key. Should they wish to claim it, they could also retrieve the guards’ uniforms, or their (inferior) swords.
((Map of next stage posted in the OOC))
-
Franklin did not feel comfortable running around in such lacking outfit as he did. He decided to pull off the uniform of one of the guards and tried it on.
It was a rather good fit, and so he thanked the guard by bashing his head with the hilt of the sword.
Dead guards would not return awake and realize something was wrong, but these live ones could. That worried Franklin since it could jeopardize the mission.
But for all his complaining, he just hoped that they wouldn't prevent him from shedding the blood of his enemies.
He walked up to the others and greeted them.
"It's not quite the armour I'm used to, but if will do." He exclaimed as he pressed against the locked door - hoping to hear voices or anything from the other side.
"We should not linger here..." He mumbled as the Earl walked over with the key in hand.
"Then let's not."
-
The group ascended the stairs as quietly as possible. They emerged from the staircase into a long corridor with two passageways leading off it.
Stahn frowned. He was no master of stealth, but short of fighting every soldier in the keep, there was no other option. There was a door nearby, very slightly ajar; he peered inside, and seeing no horde of enemies within, motion for the others to continue on while he surveyed the room. He had his axes, if he needed them, but he and the rest of the party were dangerously under-equipped.
The room was dark and smelled musky - probably a storage room. Stahn looked around, using the light that filtered in from the slightly open door. His foot bumped into something.
In that instance, there was a scrape, followed by a shuffling sound. Stahn froze, and waited for his eyes to focus better. When finally he could make out shapes around the room, he looked down at the object in his path. It was a large double-headed axe, probably used for splitting logs. Stahn picked it up and examined it closely. One of the heads was broken off to a blunt edge, but the one that remained was razor sharp. It wasn't a patch on the axe he had in his quarters, but he'd be glad to have it if they encountered foes with shields.
He looked around more. There was a rope, which Stahn took. There were some fragments of wood, probably logs which were being split with the axe, which he had no need for. There was a guard.
The man seemed to be asleep - apparently he'd come to the storage room while on duty for some rest. He was a problem; if he awoke, he might raise the alarm, or worse, come upon the party from behind while they were unprepared. As Stahn approached, the guard seemed to sense his presence, stirring and opening his eyes.
In the instant that the guard groggily sat up and tried to draw his sword, Stahn decided to test the axe.
It was good enough.
Pausing for a moment to take one last look around the room, Stahn headed for the door and stepped outside, hoping to catch up to the others.
-
Newt stared at Stahn as he came through the door, axe and rope in hand. He gripped his short sword slightly, palms sweaty and itchy. His heart was beating fast and he was sure the others could hear it. It seemed to the young man that there was a sense of dread looming, yet also a sense that they could not give up.
“The night passed away and the day coming on
And most of the men awake.
Sweet William said: I am troubled in my head
By the dreams that I dreamed last night.”
A familiar folk song rang through the damp air and the party instinctively moved into the shadows.
“Hey!” one of the guards near the stairs called “Keep it down over there. Do you want us to report you to the chief?”
“S-sorrry, occifer.” replied a slurred voice. It seemed to be coming from the east end of the hall.
“Provincials...” muttered the stair-guard “Always getting into the wine...”
Newt sniffed slightly and looked at Iasan “He talks like you.”
"We must act quickly." Franklin's whispered "And decisively."
-
“We could use the guards’ uniforms, there are two downstairs and one in the room ahead of us. Once dressed as guards we should be able to talk our way into the keep. Newt you have those silver goblets, we can say we’ve arrested you and Calanthe in the act of stealing them and we’re taking you to the sewers. Stahn could you come with me downstairs to get the uniforms.”
-
Stahn turned to Iasan and looked him in the face for a moment. He was serious. Stahn frowned.
"While you're creeping back down into the castle, every guard Latham has to spare will be regrouping down at the gates, and at the exit to the sewers", he whispered, "We've been delayed enough".
He sighed. "Besides, the uniform in that room isn't much good to anyone now, so I'd have to play captive with the lads, and I doubt these guards are that foolish". Stahn paced back and forth in the shadows for a moment, trying to think of a new plan. In his youth, he'd fought in raiding parties, but taking a village or outpost under cover of night was different to escaping a castle. For one, fighting your way out was more of a challenge.
"By the sounds of things, we've got a guard at the end of this corridor and around the corner", he began, "With more by the stairs. We could go on ahead and deal with the closest, then work our way around. It might be noisy, but we'll have the element of surprise, and we won't waste any more time. I'd like to get out of this castle and on the road before the night is out".
He looked around the group. James looked uncertain, the two boys looked nervous, and Iasan looked downright dismissive. Franklin remained stoic - he nodded, though he clearly had something on his mind. Stahn nodded to him, and said, "Franklin, any ideas?". As the only other veteran warrior present, his input would be welcome.
-
Franklin heard the party arguing and kept feeling that time was running out, he almost felt like just charge right on and strike the guards down with surprise. But he knew that he wasn't that good. Going back could be problematic he knew - so the only option was forward.
"We still not know what awaits us here..." Franklin began in a low voice to make sure noone heard.
"I'm wearing one of the outfits with a helm and all, so if a guard spot me in the distance I'm sure they won't pay attention." He thought a moment and looked at Stahn and James.
"I'd like that rope, just in case I find any loafing guards. And my good earl, exactly how good are you with that crossbow of yours?"
James looked at him and sneezed it off as an insult.
"My skills with the crossbow is unquestionably well enough for whatever foolish plan you have in mind, knight."
Franklin nodded at that as he recieved the rope from Stahn.
"That's fine to hear. I believe we'll need it, keep your eyes on me as I scout the area."
Franklin put his fist against his left chest and turned around.
--------
Franklin walked past the main path and spotted two guards standing at the stairs. It was a clear view and a straight hall, there would be no easy way out of this.
He disappeared behind the wall and quietly opened up the door there as he heard footsteps ahead of him.
The room was dark and appeared to be a storage. Two wooden chest stood in the gloom and there was a door on the opposite side of him.
The footsteps sounded like they were walking down the hall so Franklin silently slipped out of the door again and hugged the wall.
There was a guard patrolling the easternmost corridor, his back was turned to Franklin as he moved forward with sleepy steps.
Franklin sneaked stealthy and grabbed the rope in both hands. He had to stop the guard before he reached the next open space.
The guard froze and began to turn around, but a snare was suddenly placed around his neck and was now forcefully tightened. The same kind of snare used to tie up the legs of reindeer back home. Franklin quickly placed all weight on the rope which made the man lose balance and stumble towards him.
The man had panic in his eyes and tried to call for help, but there was no sound to escape his throat.
Panic turned to struggling as he tried to break free from the snare, he reached for his sword with his clumsy hands.
But by the time he pulled it free - his arm could do nothing as Franklin gripped it and pushed it into the wall behind the guard.
The grip of the sword began to loosen, the eyes went starry. Franklin hushed at the man and closed his eyes before he dragged loose the sword from the guard's hand. The body began to sink down against the wall with only the rope pulling his weight.
Franklin's heart raced faster than ever before. A single mistake and they'd all been killed. If his refelxes were any slower - That sword would've freed the man, or even killed Franklin.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and sighed. No god would be able to bring this man back to life.
Franklin pulled off the snare and held his ear against the man's mouth, there was no breathing whatsoever. He placed the man sitting against the wall and closed the starry eyes. Then he walked on ahead, arms shaky like always after watching a man in the eyes at the moment of his death.
"Pull yourself together..." He mumbled to himself as he regained a respectable posture and walked out into the open in a paroling manner while now wielding the guard's sword. He noticed a guard at the opposite side from him and heard loud people from the room near him. With that he turned back to the guard's body.
Franklin breathed heavily as he kneeled before the dead and pulled him up. There was a suspense here that he never felt on the battlefield. He was used to standing amidst death and blood, watching metal meet flesh and lock eyes with combatants on the field. There was always a chance to get attacked from the side or behind, but even then there were more then enough able men to stand by his side.
He rounded the corner with the dead and saw the rest of his adventurous team looking at him. He didn't even bother to meet their eyes and pulled the guard through the room.
He opened one of the larger chests and pulled out some bag with foodstuff. He then tried to place the guard in the chest only to realize that it wasn't large enough. He sighed and undressed the man's armour as he did his best to cram the guard into the small space.
The legs hung outside as Franklin pushed the box in front of the door on the other side of the room, hoping to block it off. He then placed the uniform in the bag and walked out towards the party again.
-------
"I saw three guards present, two at the stairs and one at the far end of the corridor." Franklin began as he drew in the dust of the floor.
"I believe there to be guards in the room to the right of the stairs, I could hear voices at least. Loud ones, suggesting they are indeed less sober than us." He straightened up and sighed.
"There are only a few torches in this room, two in the middle. If we can take those out, they shouldn't be able to see us." He paused and looked at the priest as serious as he could.
"And I believe that any type of silent killing could be useful after that. If we manage to take us to the east corridor I suggest an arrow in the far guard leaving only the two at the stairs for us to handle. But we must be quiet or we might have more guards at our hands." The earl nodded.
"Well, we do have the wine I took that was meant for us." Newt said holding up the sack of poisoned wine.
"Perhaps this is exactly what we require to create a diversion?" James asked and looked at Franklin who at least wore one of the two uniforms.
"That could indeed work, but if the guard's at the stairs raise an alarm, we'll have to move quicker than the flight of an magpie." Franklin answered as he pondered the decisions, ready to take action and get out of this smelly, crammed space.
-
Newt listened to Franklin’s plan. It seemed sound, but he still had the undeniable feeling that they were all going to die.
“Here’s the poison, sir.” he whispered, passing the object over to the knight “And take these cards, too. It’s just as well. My hands are a bit full. To be honest I don’t know how I’ve been carrying so much.”
Franklin took the poison, moving casually to the east end of the hall before disappearing around the corner.
He steadied his heartbeat. Anything could give him away. He approached the door to the room.
“Hey!” shouted a guard near the stairs “Where are you going?”
“To drink, sir. I’m not on patrol anymore.”
“Very well, then. Just tell them to keep it down a bit. The Lord Agrigola said he may need us any time. Trouble with The Lady I hear.” he said the last bit in a more hushed voice.
Franklin entered the room. It was dank and musky and reeked of sweaty feet and liquor.
“Ach, who are you?” shouted one of the off-duty guards, his sword on the table next to his flask “New one, eh? Must be one of those for-hires you hear about. What’s that you got there?”
“Wine.” answered Franklin “Good wine. The man who sold it to me promised.”
“Ah, good, pass it here. We’re almost out, John here’s got a mouth like a donkey’s ***hole. One big *** on another ***- you’ll never fill it up. Come sit down, friend. My word, you’ve got a funny accent! Where’s that from, then?”
“Don’t ask him too many questions you’ll scare him off.”
“Big fella like that? Doubt it!”
Franklin threw the fancy playing cards onto the table and the guards’ eyes grew wide “For you, lads.” he said “Check them out. They’re fine work.”
As the guards were distracted by the playing cards, Franklin discretely poured the last of the table wine into his goblet before pretending to fill it with the poison. He then took the table-pitcher and nearly emptied the wine-sack into it.
“Let’s have a toast,” he said “And then we’ll play some cards.”
The guards agreed, pouring themselves each a drink.
“To the Lord Agrigola!” Franklin said, raising his cup.
“To the Lord Agrigola!” the men repeated before taking a sip.
Franklin waited for the men to react, and as they did, he clenched his stomach “Ah!” he cried “the cheat! The liar! The vendor sold me bad wine!”
[spoiler]
Needs 3+ to go unnoticed at the door
Roll(1d6)+0
1,+0
Total:1
Needs 4+ to convince door guard
Roll(1d6)+0:
4,+0
Total:4
Needs 3+ to convince drunk guards
Roll(1d6)
5,+0
Total:5
[/spoiler]
-
Franklin made the sounds since the other two were quickly falling ill, spewing out parts of their stomach-contents on the floor.
The guard closest to the room couldn't ignore it and went to check. He walked calmly and heard the sounds and then the smell, he wrinkled his nose and opened up the door to the room.
"Oh what the hey..." He mumbled and watched the two guards and the third laying beside them.
Franklin noticed how he turned around towards his guard comrade and was certain that his plan had failed.
"I could use a hand here, these looks like they could use a trip into the closest lake to sober up." The guard said and sighed as the other guard left his post.
Calanthe looked around the corner of the wall and noticed the guard leaving, this was their time to strike.
"The coast is clear."
Stahn started moving down the eastern path to assist Franklin in their ambush while James moved in the middle, Newt, Calanthe and Iasan stayed behind and were ready to make a run for it.
--------------------
The earl of Kinnoull moved stealthy and made sure that every step made as little sound as possible, when he arrived at the end of the wall he waited for the signal. A dampened thump was heard as Stahn knocked once, then twice.
James steeled himself, readied his crossbow with an arrow and closed his eyes.
He raised his crossbow into the air before stepping out, lowering the crossbow at the same time.
The guard was rudely awakened from whatever daydream he had as he found his life threatened by the determined earl.
-----------------------------------
"All right you drunkards, you've had enough!" Said the guard as he walked into the room and pulled one of the guards from the floor and leaned him against the wall.
"This is quite the mess..." Said the other guard as he entered the room and saw the source of the smell.
He passed the other guard who looked really down and went for Franklin who faked it.
Franklin kept playing sick and hoped that his assistance would arrive soon or this could get messier than it already was.
-
Not having the time even to wait for James' shot, Stahn stepped over to the door. Behind him there was a twang, a whistle which travelled the length of the corridor, and the collapsing of a body. He smiled.
He thought for a moment about the best approach, and decided that they had succeeded thus far through chaos, and subtlety would not be any use. Besides, the remaining two guards were preoccupied. Brute force would win the day here.
He stepped into the room. The guard approaching Franklin paid no mind, but the first guard looked up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes widened at the sight of the giant man filling the door-frame, and he lost his grip on the still-vomiting guard he held by the collar. Stahn took advantage of his fright, striding forward, seizing the wooden table, and flipping it sideways, striking the second guard across the side and knocking him down. Not missing a beat, he lifted the large axe and drove the blade into the guard's torso.
The first guard turned to Franklin, horrified. "Do something", he cried, "Why aren't you-". He was cut off, as Franklin drew his sword while deceptively stepping towards Stahn, before turning on his heel and stabbing the guard in the chest. Stahn and Franklin nodded to each other and stepped outside, leaving the two poisoned guards writhing on the floor.
"We're clear", said Stahn to the others gathered outside, "Now let's get upstairs and retrieve our things before the guards regroup".
-
Iasan stood in the hallway stunned beyond belief as he listened to Stahn declare that the group was "in the clear". In one evening he'd seen more violent deaths than in his entire life.
"Are you sure you'd like to move so quickly? If we wait around, there would be plenty more guards we could slaughter.” Iasan said sarcastically “I can't believe what I am seeing, all these deaths were unnecessary! We could have gotten past the guards using words."
"What do you know of battle monk?" replied Franklin quickly “you’ve barely seen outside a monastary.”
“I know enough to be able to tell who my enemies are. These men were Galuterran soldiers, are you not here to fights for Galuterra Sir Franklin? Or are you a soldier of Foristland in disguise? Your actions show no loyalty to this Kingdom.”
“Be careful how you talk to me Brother, I am in no mood for a lecture.”
“And if I’m not careful how I talk you, what then? Will my fate be that of these guards? That is the kind of response I would expect from this Northern Barbarian.” Iasan pointed at Stahn while he said this, “And what kind of example do you think you are setting for the boy Newt? Shall he grow up to inherit your bloodlust?” Looking at Franklin Iasan finished “These men are dead now and nothing can be done about that. In the future I hope for the sake of this boy traveling with you and for your soul, that you do not jump at every opportunity to shed blood. I hope this also so that your presence here does no further damage to the Kingdom of Galuterra. Your actions today have served nobody but Fortisland and the devil Belial.”
Iasan walked away from them in disgust, heading into the keep to grab his few belongings.
-
Franklin shook his head as the upset monk walked away. He had been careless. Apparently actions of survival was not one of many attributes the people of Galuterra possessed.
Maybe it was just he who saw that they were attacked by dark magic and then almost poisoned after fighting for their lives. If their host was ready to finish them off before they even started - why wouldn't the guards follow orders?
"I wish I didn't have to do that." James; the earl said as he returned with his crossbow to the group.
Franklin met his eyes and nodded.
"None of us do, but the saint seems to think differently..." Franklin lied, lives meant nothing for a bitter warrior.
He watched as the boys came down the hallway and stared at the bodies.
"They're sleeping." Franklin said quickly and got the attention of them.
"I've never seen anyone sleep with blood as a mattress..." Newt said and walked ahead quietly.
Everyone started to move ahead so he announced that he would move the bodies. And so he did, dragging them into the room with his previous victim.
After sweating a lot he sat down on the chest in the room and pondered.
"If our task truly is to kill the princess of their enemies. How can one expect us to carry it out without meaningless deaths? Every live peasant who sees us proves a danger to our success."
He shook his head and wondered what to do with that monk, if he noticed that something was not as noble as a knight was expected to be - maybe someone else would as well. He decided that the monk would have his will through next time, and perhaps - just perhaps; something might happen.
He went through the pockets of the guards and pilfered an amulet and some kind of holy symbol before stepping out of the room and heading out to the keep.
-------
Something became very apparent as Franklin entered the keep, everyone was more or less ready. He hurried to his room and glanced at his heavy armour. It would take a lot of time to equip all of it. He swore as he unlatched the gauntlets from the rest of the armour and removed the ring mail. After struggling with it he managed to get it hanging loose underneath the guard uniform; to many threads to tie up at the back.
When he was satisfied he went for the door, but stopped and picked up the helm as well. Greaves, gauntlets and helm would be enough. If the water of the sewer was too deep he would be able to take it off. The rest of the armour had to stay.
He placed his fist against the door and took a deep breath too steeled himself, this would be a challenging quest indeed.
-
Stahn was waiting as Franklin emerged, looking breathless but all the better equipped, from his room. He'd gathered his own meagre possessions already, and now carried his large axe and pack on his back, as well as his two smaller axes at his waist. For once, he felt appropriately equipped.
"Good fighting earlier", he said casually, "Galuterra's best never stood a chance". Franklin smiled, somewhat half-heartedly. Stahn sensed earlier than the knight had been hurt by the monk's remarks, and although he himself had shrugged off the words, he could imagine why.
"I won't talk down to you", said Stahn, "You've likely seen as many battles as I have, if not more. But you've spent a long time fighting bravely. Men have stood before you and tried to kill you, yet here you are. I know men like yourself have honour and morals which you must keep, but let me tell you - I am no scholar, but I know that a man who regrets killing to survive because he thinks that he should is a fool".
Franklin nodded, and muttered, "I understand".
"So let's leave", Stahn finished, "You and I have children and nobles to look after". He smiled. "And", he added, "A monk whose advice I will take when he learns to tie his own bootlaces".
-
"Listen up." The Earl of Kinnoull declared as everyone was gathered.
"I haven't got a clue about the knowledge you have of this quest. Neither do I actually care..." He continued and met the eyes of Stahn and Franklin.
"We need to make our escape, and whoever decides to stall will be left behind." He said and pointed towards the door downstairs - to the sewers.
Everyone agreed, geared up and ready to go.
"Those words are hardly kind." Iasan noted to James.
"I suppose not... But we have a mission to take care of my dear monk, I would ask of you to help and support the boys." James said and raised a hand towards him.
The monk nodded slowly.
"I take it you know the details of the quest as well then?" Franklin said as he stepped out from the crowd.
"Indeed I do, it is not an easy quest and neither will I discus it right now." He said and glared at Franklin.
"I understand." The knight replied, although he felt like a peasant talking to royalty.
"We will meet our contact and all the details will enter the light then." James said and turned his back on the party.
"But right now we really need to move on before more of the castle guards find us. I assume that you agree that it will be the best for all of us that we enter those sewers before blood needs to be shed, ours or theirs.
James, the Earl of Kinnoull strode on ahead towards the sewers with those words.
Franklin on the other hand wasn't sure that he wanted to know what the sewers smelled like.
-
After speaking with the Earl of Kinnoull, Iasan felt extremely disheartened. These men seemed not to care about anything but accomplishing their goal. It would be an honourable trait, if accomplishing their goal did not require the deaths of many men. It was God’s duty to judge, however, not Iasan’s. He swore to himself he would stay with these men to keep them in good health, and hopefully in being with them, he could persuade them not to use violence at least some of the time. If Iasan’s presence saved at least one life, it would be worth journeying with the men.
“I need to grab my belongings from the chapel, I will try not to hold you men up” said Iasan as he headed up the stairs to the chapel.
-
Iasan disappeared up the stairs while Newt shuffled uncomfortably.
“I supposed I’ll get mine too. Calanthe, I don’t have much but you can share my things since your room burned down.”
Newt was only a minute longer than Iasan in returning. When at last the party was gathered, the young boy cleared his throat.
“Now if I remember correctly the sewer should be beneath a staircase on this floor.”
Franklin drew out the key he had confiscated from the guard. Testing it first in the door at the centre of the tower, he was met with failure. He tried again on the door at the west end of the hallway. There was a telling click.
“Well then...” said Franklin “Down we go.”
The group descended a twisting staircase, Franklin leading the way. It was at this time they wished they hadn’t extinguished all of the torches upstairs. The sewers were dark and stunk to high heaven. A small pool of water filled the centre of the room; it was eerily quiet, but for the strange sound of deep breathing.
“Calanthe...” muttered Newt “Do you have to breathe so loud? Why do you have to be so noisy?”
“That’s not Calanthe.” said Stahn, looking up “That’s coming from the ceiling...”
As the party looked up, they realized the ceiling was much higher than they had originally thought; it was so dark they could not see into its blackness. All they knew was that there was something up there and they didn’t know what.
There was a CLANG as the door up the stairs slammed.
-
Iasan sighed as he took in the smell of the sewer. ‘you wanted some adventure in your life’ he thought to himself. At this moment, however, the thought of the nice quiet little monastery back in Wintrie was appealing.
“Well I guess we’re getting dirty” Iasan said loudly, trying hide his disgusted expression. This was probably the last thing in the world he wanted to do. With this he turned to Newt and Calanthe, “Come on boys, its nothing a little water won’t wash off”. With this he began trudging through the smelly liquid in the centre of the room. Walking in as straight a line as he could, with the limited vision granted to him in the sewer.
“What do you think that noise is above us?” Newt asked the group nervously.
“I don’t know, but it’s the reason I’m so eager to wade through this disgusting sewer water” Iasan responded, keeping his pace steady trying to reach the other side of the room. “Are the rest of you coming?”
The next noise was the Clang of the door that they had entered the sewers through closing.
-
Something was off. From the moment Stahn had looked up, even before hearing the ominous sound from above, there had been something bothering him.
"Shut up", he said quietly to the monk who had wandered across the room. He needed a moment's silence to think. After a second it struck him: the room was far taller than the staircase they had descended. "This can't be part of the tower", he said under his breath, "It's too large. This is like another tower entirely". He paced about for a moment, the stony silence broken only by the strange sound from the unseen ceiling high above.
Stahn shook his head. "I don't like it", he said simply, "We should keep moving". He took his axes from his belt, gripped them tightly, and added, "Quickly".
-
Franklin had hoped that the sewers was the best choice.
He pondered.
What manner of dark creature could possibly lurk in this part of the fort? And what manner of lord and lady would have such an large array of danger hidden?
Maybe it was something that was common amongst the houses in Galuterra? Keeping powerful beings indoor. Franklin could not understand it at all. They had always taken care of anything magical back home, it was evil manifested after all. Beast or sorcerers - they all met the same fate. But none seemed to care here.
"We should keep moving" Said Stahn and Franklin could not agree any more.
"Arm yourselves and be ready to defend your life if anything decides to get in our path." James said as he raised his crossbow towards he looming ceiling.
Stahn already had his axes in hand but the boy ; Calanthe finally decided to heave the bow of his back without a word.
Franklin pulled out the short sword and remembered that he still had one of the inferior sword of the guard, he let that one rest and stepped into the water and felt that horrible feeling of his feet getting moist as sewer water poured into his greaves.
-
The Earl of Kinnoul aimed his bow at the ceiling as the others drew their swords.
“I hate this place.” said Newt “I hate this place so much.”
There was a twang as Kinnoul fired an arrow into the ceiling. A moment of silence.
Silence.
Silence.
SNAP!
A hairy pincer snatched up James in one fast strike. Two red eyes glinted from the ceiling. Four eyes. Then six. And then eight.
In a moment, the ceiling went black again. James’ unconcious body seemed to be floating, although the group new he was being held up by something above them.
-
Franklin saw the Earl being held by the dark force above them. He knew not what it was or what magic that bound it. But Franklin knew that his body was getting more and more exhausted for every battle they fought.
The earl saved his life when they went against the witch, and even more importantly - he seemed like the kind of authority that this group needed to stick together.
He floated above them, dangling from side to side - not responding. The crossbow laid on the tiles below him and everyone watched the bizarre scene.
The first one to react was Calanthe who fired an arrow above James' head. The Earl shook as the arrow struck something.
Franklin didn't know what to do but lounged out towards James' legs as it moved closer to the group. He missed and watched as Calanthe ran away from where he stood and something striking that exact spot.
"Don't let it catch you!" Franklin shouted as he tried to make out what was above them. "And find something to light this place up! We can't fight like this." He felt powerless on the ground as whatever hunted them preyed from above.
-
“We can’t fight like this.” Franklin was saying.
Iasan heard the knight and felt fear growing in him. “Are you mad!? We can’t fight at all, we need to get out of here. Newt you go along the walls and try to find an exit to this room, and be quick about it.” After saying this Iasan made a dash for the Earl’s crossbow. Picking it up he ran to Calanthe. “Pass me a few arrows, I will load and reload the bows if you keep shooting at whatever you think you can hit.”
“Alright brother, I’ll do my best” replied Calanthe, although the boy was visibly shaken.
“Right, so we’ll need to keep moving or this monster will snatch us up as well. Stahn try to grab a hold of the Earl if he comes near you.”
Calanthe fired another arrow aiming for the spot above James’ head. He handed the bow to Iasan to reload, while taking aim with the second bow.
“Feel free to send a couple in the direction of the Barbarian if you get the chance” Iasan whispered to Calanthe.
“Are you sure you’re a monk?” replied Calanthe, who had taken him seriously.
((Zerl I guess you need to roll before we know what exactly the arrow that Calanthe shot did? Also do we roll to see how long it takes Newt to find an exit?))
-
Stahn paced back and forth, keeping an eye on the ceiling. For once, he felt powerless to help, and rather than feeling fear, he felt anger.
One thing stuck out to him though. Whatever it was up above in the dark was very, very big.
"I can't reach that high", he bellowed to the monk, who was already giving out instructions, "Perhaps you might ask your God to lift me into the sky. And anyway, those crossbow bolts may as well be feathers for all they're going to worry this thing". He looked around, peering through the gloom of the sewers. Stahn had no intention of leaving the noble behind - a warband was nothing without camaraderie, he'd learned - but he was out of reach, and the foe was too mighty. He could only hope that Newt could find one of the narrow passageways that made up the sewer system.
Narrow passageways. That was it.
"Pull back", he yelled, trying his best to rally the troops, "We try and lure it after us. It'll have to come down to follow us into the sewers, and we should be able to reach the noble - and get a good view of our foe".
Stahn looked across at the monk. He looked speechless for a moment, then added, "Yes, I agree".
Stahn moved to Franklin's side. "We won't leave him", he said quietly, "We'll just bring the fight onto our terms".
-
Newt felt a rush of hope come over him as he heard Stahn's command. They were going to get out of here after all. Crawling along the outer rim of the wall, he felt around blindly until at last he felt a small gap and the cool rush of night air.
"There's an exit!" he cried as he pulled away some stones. The water rushed out of the room faster "There should be enough room for us to get through. Please come quick!"
He hesitated, wanting to crawl for his life, but not wanting to leave the others (or James behind) "You'll have to crouch down, it's very low."
The narrow tunnel stretched into an unseen darkness, it was filled with water at least six centimetres high, and stunk to high heaven.
-
Franklin heard the news and agreed to the plan.
"Retreat! Back into that tunnel!" He shouted as people drew closer to the tunnel and the stench which was sewers.
Franklin laid his eyes on the looming danger above him and the body floating in the air.
When the last person had reached the tunnel - he too began to slowly back towards it.
The eyes in the ceiling fixed on him as he was the last one out there.
He tried to read movement from the beast but it was almost impossible with the darkness.
The thumps of the legs moving against the ceiling left a chill along Franklin's spine as he realized that his foe was right over him at the moment.
With no hesitation he ran the last yards and leaped into the tunnel. He struck the water and his nose filled with the incredible smell.
Then came the crash, he looked up and could partly see what he was facing. A large, hairy monster with eight limb, it struck him to be a spider.
The creature began moving against Franklin and the tunnel with amazing speed for something that large although it seemed to be limping on the side it held their comrade.
"Continue further down the tunnel, I don't know how long it will be held where it is now."
-
Iasan moved further down the tunnel, shaking as he went. He wanted to keep moving but he knew that if the group did not get James back quickly he would most likely die.
“If we want the Earl to live we need to get him out of the clutches of that beast quickly. It is already likely that he’s lost enough blood in his body to cause an imbalance of the humours in his body.”
Iasan knew they needed James back now, yet he had no idea how to get to him, or what to do if he did. Healing was his talent not fighting. If the others could bring the Earl to him, he’d be the best person to dress the wounds and would likely save his life.
“You two are doing an awful lot of running, considering you are men who like to fight.” Iasan yelled to Franklin and Stahn. “You now know what the creature is and have a better idea of what it is capable of. Perhaps you should try and rescue a nobleman. The reward would be great I’m sure.”
-
Franklin met Stahn's eyes for moment and nodded at the command of the priest. They would make their stand here where the beast was stuck in a narrow place.
An arrow soared by them as they steeled themselves before the charge, the beast retreated a little but continued forward as the two warriors came at it, Franklin went first with the Northman a few steps behind.
The beast blinked with its' red eyes with anticipation as Franklin moved closer and raised one of the limbs against him. Franklin stopped for a moment as the beast waited. He jabbed with his short sword against it and the limb retreated a little each time but returned.
Then a strong forced slammed him into the tunnel wall as another limb lashed out. Franklin clashed with the wall, helm first and dropped his sword in the water somewhere.
"Honourless beast fights like three warriors." Franklin mumbled as he pulled himself back from the beasts advance.
Another limb rose up from the rest of the body as the beast got closer, Franklin drew the inferior guard sword from its' scabbard and slashed at the limb. But the limb grabbed the sword and held it firm, trying to pull it away from a sitting Franklin who pulled it with both arms.
"I command you to let go!" Franklin exclaimed as he did his best to retrieve his last weapon.
-
((Apologies for my absence, I've had no internet since Tuesday.))
In an instant, the beast retracted its limb. It was difficult to know whether it was down to Franklin's command, or the large axe suddenly buried into it. Stahn staggered momentarily with the force of the withdrawal before steeling himself and turning to face the creature. It too stood firm, barely acknowledging the damaged limb. It jabbed at the Northman's feet in warning, hissing through unseen fangs.
Quickly, Franklin took up his sword and stood firm next to Stahn. The two of them were a picture of battle.
Again, the beast jabbed with its forelimb, grazing Stahn's leg but drawing no response. Within a moment instinct struck and the two warriors were hacking desperately at the exposed leg before it was hastily withdrawn with another screech of protest. The creature surged forward in anger, splashing sewer water and causing the two men to retreat further back into the tunnel.
"Can we really hack this beast down piece by piece?", asked Franklin loudly over the creature's hissing.
Stahn gritted his teeth. "I've never backed down because a foe was bigger than me", he said solemnly, "And I've lived this long, so I don't see why I should change my ways now".
-
Franklin felt like a the tamer of bears, he did his best to slowly advance but was thoroughly pushed back as soon at his opponent realized what was happening. The Earl was so close to them and yet this beast would not let itself be defeated easily.
The beast relentlessly attacked them, Franklin and Stahn dodged out of the way of the beast's limbs and tasted the sewer water.
"We need to get him out of the way." Stahn mumbled as he and Franklin rose to face it once more. The Earl acting slightly like a human shield.
"You're right... Boy! Toss me that rope!" He called to Newt, with the rope they could perhaps get a grip around their comrade and have the rest of the band pull him out as they focused on distracting the beast.
"They'll get him out. We'll take this out." Franklin said as the boy threw the length of rope the last meter.
"It better work." Stahn said as he parried one of the limbs with his axe.
He tied a knot, the kind he used to make snare traps. Stahn kept the beast occupied with axe and will as Franklin readied the rope and called a signal to Stahn.
Stahn advanced and attacked the creature's limb with full force, Franklin moved in closer than he'd want to and threw the rope around the Earl. He pulled the end and the knot tightened, then he made a double on it so that it would last longer.
"Accomplished" Franklin called as he threw the rope back towards the boys and the priest - they would do the pulling. A quick swoop came at him and struck the helmet, balance was lost and he fell down into the water once more. There was little more than a putrid breath between him and the monster's jaw, the ugly eyes and the fangs.
He unsheathed the sword and held it out towards the creature, the face retreated a little but clicked as if chewing. Franklin used the momentum to back away from it when there was an eruption of slime from the beast, it all splashed against him and he felt a stinging smell and disgusting feeling all over as he was soaked in the creature's goo.