Journey in the Realm of the Goddess, board-wide topic :: open

[Ričle]

The last of the three great Imlandris warships sank beneath the surface as the glow of twilight faded from the western horizon, and the sea turned to black beneath a sky of emerging stars. The sea was littered with debris, much of it aflame, casting an eerie glow upon the floating bodies of the dead and dying as they sank, one by one, into the darkness below.

Lanterns aboard the enemy ships were lit, their light cast out upon the water. The soldiers of the ships stood vigilant at the sides of the ship, sending arrows down into the flotsam at any sign of movement. One warship was sent to follow the currents to the west, seeking survivors who might have had the strength to swim.

The depths of the ocean stretched beneath the soldier in limitless darkness, its mystery boundless and containing a myriad of creatures of which man's knowledge scratched the surface only as deeply as the bows of their ships. The night air was warm but the sea itself was cold and merciless, causing him to shiver despite his constant effort. The salt abraded his skin beneath his clothes, stung his eyes, and sucked the moisture from his body. The current carried him southward, dragging on his tiring muscles, and threatening to send him in the path of the searching enemy ships. But he knew that before him lay a hope; that the currents shifted in this region of the sea, and that but a few miles from where the battle had raged passed the southbound current that would carry him into the Strait of Melynas, and to land.

He also knew that it was only a matter of time before the enemy fleet sent a ship to the southwest in search of survivors who had struck out with that very purpose.

Hours passed. The soldier had no concept of time, and the events that had occurred were so terrible to think on that his mind shoved them from his conscious thoughts completely, leaving only the realm of his physical strife to occupy himself. Eventually his body went numb from the cold, and his movements became steady repetitions as he swam ever westward. Occasionally he would lift his head, gazing at the angle of the stars to check his direction, but he never allowed himself to stop for long. Once he reached the current that ran along the mainland he knew he could rest, and allow himself to float upon the surface as the waters carried him into the Strait. He would need the energy he saved, for he would come ashore in a foreign land that would likely rather see him dead than alive. While Imlandris and Aranos could be described at the best of their relations as tolerant neighbors, it had been generations since open fighting had occurred between the countries.

The soldier pushed those thoughts from his mind, and concentrated on swimming.

Gradually his movements began to slow, as his muscles tired and his mind was too exhausted to push them further. Spurts of conscious frustration with himself would revive his energy, allowing him a few minutes of normal effort, but soon he would slip into a daze, and his movements would slow again. As it became harder to keep his breath he realized he was being pushed off course, and that if he could not reach the southbound current he would be swept eastward of the isle of Celynse, where he was certain to succumb to exhaustion and drown if the ships of the enemy did not find him first.

At length he discerned the distant sounds of a reef. His mind came alert as he identified the sound, for the Imlandris charts of this region had not indicated the presence of any reefs. Had he been swept so far off course? Or perhaps their charts had been inaccurate? That seemed strange, as many Imlandris ships had sailed this region across the centuries. He paused, and suddenly realized that here the sea was still; no currents pulled him north or south, east or west. The sounds of waves on rocks could be heard all around him, but no light from the moon and stars reflected off the whitecaps. If anything, the sea was completely still and serene, more as a lake in a forest than a reef out on the ocean.

By all his knowledge of the sea, this was impossible.

As he floated in that eerie place, it seemed as if everything about him moved when all of his perceptions told him that the world was still. He blinked, and noticed the presence of two bright orange eyes staring at him from not ten meters away. At once he wondered how long he had been staring at them. Had the creature just appeared, or had he only just noticed it? Its eyes seemed to emit a light of their own. Nervous, the soldier froze, wondering whether this creature was friend or enemy. If an enemy, he knew himself to be at a severe disadvantage, exhausted and in the water, but still he loosed the knife he had retained upon his belt, ready in case the creature should attack.

It approached, slowly, seeming more shy of the soldier than he was of it. He could not distinguish any characteristic that identified the creature as male or female, for though it appeared to have the rough shape of a man it was covered in scales of some dark color, perhaps green, and had no hair to speak of. Its nose was flattened oddly upon its face, and its eyes were covered in some strange extra lid that blinked occasionally from below. A large flap of skin fluttered along the creature's neck and upon the top of its chest, apparently covering some sort of gills. The creature raised an arm, which turned out to be webbed, as a bat's, and made a gesture with its hand, which was also webbed.

The soldier hesitated. He had no idea what the creature was trying to relate, and remained on his guard. Finally, releasing his hold on his knife, he decided that it was best to not to intimidate this creature. Perhaps it was simply saying hello? He raised his right arm, and waved dumbly. "Hello."

The creature opened its mouth, revealing two sets of sharply-pointed teeth, and with a strange forcing of air produced a sort of screeching bark in such a sharp and inhuman pitch that it pierced the soldier's ears and caused his head to ring. The creature repeated the sound, and as the soldier raised his hands to cover his ears it suddenly lunged forward, placing its scaly arms upon the soldier's shoulders and dragging him underwater.

There was a scream, and then the sea was silent.

--------------------------------

He awoke upon a rock, and knew as much by the pain in his side where its sharp points were digging into his skin. Tenderly he opened his eyes, and found that the sun shone brightly in the sky, and it was mid-morning. As he shifted to sit up, he scraped his hands and arms on the edges of the rock, and was quickly bleeding. With several curses, he managed to prop himself up and take in his surroundings.

To the west lay the open ocean. There were no islands, or landmarks visible upon the horizon. Where was this piece of land the creature had cast him on? The mainland, in the country of Aranos? Or perhaps he had reached Celynse? Or had the magic been stronger than he'd thought, and he was upon some distant shore?

Perhaps he would be able to see more from the mainland. Turning, he looked towards the shore, and found that the stretch of land as far as the eye could see consisted of a rock face at least 200 meters high. Not unscalable, but with every rock along the way looking as sharp and cragged as the one he sat upon. Even worse, he was at least half that distance away from the base of the rocks. The water around him was clear as a mountain stream, and only a few meters deep. At the bottom were more rocks.

"Blasted scale-ridden fish-reeking sea creature," he mumbled. "It couldn't have gotten me any closer than this? Gods damnit." A wave hit the rock suddenly, splashing him across the face. It seemed the tide was coming in.

The soldier made his way slowly through the water, arriving at the base of the rock face only just before the waves became too strong for him to withstand. Even so, his skin was shredded and bleeding from contact with the rocks, and the saltwater against the wounds stung like fire. He fared no better in his climb upward.

Hours later he arrived at the top, and found a dense forest carpeted with moss and ferns covering the strata of the land. He sat beneath a tree and looked out upon the ocean, and for the first time since awakening realized that he felt neither hunger nor thirst since the creature had dumped him on the rock. Had the damned thing fed him as well? He hated to think what the meal must've been... probably raw fish of some sort. Hopefully dead raw fish.

Memories of the attack began to reappear in his mind, now that his body was at rest and free from imminent threat. The Celynse pirates closing in from behind, and the enemy fleet waiting up ahead. An anvil and hammer, sent to destroy them. His company of soldiers had sunk into the sea, filled with arrows. The captain of the Seaflower had caught fire, trapped beneath a piece of fallen mast. The wizard Baltek had taken an arrow in the throat, and fallen from the bow. And the prince - the man he had been sent to protect - had fought bravely against the boarding party, but had been cast into the sea as the pirate ship rammed their hull. The soldier had leapt into the sea after the prince, but he could not find him in the water, and a barrage of arrows was sent down, killing every man around him.

And then the sun had set, and he had begun his swim toward shore.

Had Baltek sent a message to the king before he'd died? There was no way to know. The archers had killed him early, there may not have been time. So, a short message at best. Would the king send help, or wait until the ships were due to return? Did more traps await them, or was it unsafe for the Imlandris fleet to sail south again?

He had to get home. It was no use counting on the wizard's message, or other survivors reaching shore alive and sending word to Caelin Tal. Whatever failures he must answer for were of little relevance compared to the importance of what only the soldier knew. The heir to the throne was certainly dead, and war had been declared upon the kingdom.

--------------------------------

It was late into the night, and the barracks within the walls of Caelin's keep were dark and silent. The spring air was warm and the sky was clear, and the stars above Elumintir shone bright against the darkness. Crickets chirped within the yard, and a prowling cat yowled, but few creatures stirred under the shadow of the tower. Light from a single window shone down upon the dirt of the practice yard; it had become a constant presence over the past several weeks. The office belonged to Nathan Brown, knight of Imlandris and ranking officer in the king's army while the general was away.

Nat was a skilled swordsman, an avid bookworm, and had a knack for fixing just about anything. But since his injured leg had begun to recover he'd been tasked to office work, and had discovered the importance of someone with foresight and leadership ability providing direction and guidance for those in the military and the city watch. Still, he was completely miserable, and this was not a job at which he thrived. The king knew his misery, and did not expect such work from Nat forever, but at the moment the knight's help was needed, and Nat understood that. So he sat alone in his office, working late nights with little sleep, channeling his misery into tenacity for his work.

The lantern lit his desk poorly, but Nat preferred squinting in the darkness to breaking his concentration and fixing the light. His desk was piled with books and reports, their organization indiscernible to anyone besides himself. The cane he'd used for walking for the past several weeks, a welcome upgrade from his crutches, leaned against the desk, and his injured leg was propped upon a cushioned chair. He worked methodically and ceaselessly, considering each situation critically and applying the best of his knowledge to guiding the operations of those beneath him. Occasionally he stopped to massage his stiff leg, or refill the mug of strong tea that sat beside his work, but day after day he never glanced at the hour until his work was reasonably complete or until he fell asleep at his desk.

And so it was strange to hear footsteps running down the barracks hall. At first Nat didn't register the sound, he was so absorbed in his work. But they grew in volume and in urgency such that his thoughts strayed from the pages before him, and he looked up at the door. A young boy, dressed as a castle page, burst inside suddenly, panting desperately for breath. Nat stood and reached for his cane, immediately aware that something was wrong.

The boy barely managed a bow before begging to speak. "Sir Nathan, the king and the duke send for you at once."

Nathan nodded, putting on his coat and limping as fast as he could to the door. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know Sir," said the boy. "They only sent me urgently to bring you to the tower."

Nat winced a little inwardly, knowing that meant the boy had received a tongue-lashing from the duke. He followed the page out of the barracks and into the castle yard, cursing his injured leg but not daring to put any more weight on it than he knew it could take. The two made their way slowly in the darkness, eventually reaching the outer doors to the tower. A pair of guards opened the doors for them, and Nat's blinked as they entered the bright, torch-lit halls.

They climbed seven flights of stairs to reach the king's office. The boy was sweating nervously, and Nat knew it was because that the duke's expectations for Nat's arrival did not consider the difficulty of climbing stairs on an injured leg. Nat kindly dismissed the page before they entered the room, to save the boy any additional unnecessary grief. He was waved inside by a castle guard. The room was empty save for the king, the duke, and the king's old wizard, Gerynd. The king's expression at Nat's arrival was one of worry and relief, but the duke glared at him impatiently. "Many apologies for my tardiness," he said sincerely, bowing as he approached the king. "I'm afraid my leg is still quite stiff."

The king remained silent, but the duke's irritation was far from placated by Nat's excuse. The duke cleared his throat. "A seabird with a message arrived this morning in Haven from the wizard on the Seaflower."

"Baltek?" said Nat. Panic was entering his own chest; the general and the prince were on board the Seaflower.

The duke nodded, and continued. "The wizard's message spoke of an attack on our ships. But the spell was cut off before it was completed, so that's all we know."

"Unfinished?" asked Nat; an unfinished message was unusual.

The wizard, Gerynd, supplied an answer to Nat's confusion. "The bird didn't receive all of the message before it was relayed," said Gerynd. "Either Baltek was killed, knocked unconscious, or magically prevented from sending the message before it could be completely transmitted."

"Killed?" Nat was growing even more nervous.

"It raises concern for what may have happened to the ship," supplied the duke. "If Baltek was killed, that may mean the ship was somehow taken."

Nat glanced at the king. The other man was clearly stressed and worried for his son, though Nat knew that in any other company the king would be showing more strength than this. Nat felt the same; not only was the prince a close friend, but the general was near to a brother to Nat. The men's eyes met, and for a moment they shared each other's thoughts. "What are we going to do?" asked Nat, ready at once to leap aboard a ship and sail to the south to find his friends.

"That's what we've called you here for," said the duke, with a completely serious tone. "What would you advise, Sir Nathan?"

"Me?" Nat asked dumbly. Perhaps the stress was showing in his own voice more than it ought to.

"Yes, you. Our best tactician has been absent for weeks, and you've been filling his shoes. Now he may be dead or missing, along with the heir to the throne. You may not be the general, but you were his right hand. We'd like your opinion."

Nat squirmed inwardly, discomfort and worry overwhelming him. Still, he was a soldier, and thus practiced at hiding his emotions away until a later time. He forced himself to push his worries to the side so that he could consider the duke's question. He thought for several moments before responding. "As I understand the mission, they weren't supposed to be attacked. They were sent to stop Celynse pirates from raiding our trade routes."

"That's right," said the duke.

All eyes were on Nat. "Then there are three possibilities," he said. "First, that Baltek was knocked out, or stopped from sending the message. In that case we can presume that he'll send a second message when he's able, and we should be alert for it. Second, that Baltek was killed, and the ships are fine and on their way home, unable to send a message without a magician. Third..."

"That Baltek was killed, the ships were attacked, and our people need help," finished the king.

Nat nodded. "If the ships are fine, they should reach a southern port in Imlandris within the week. Or limp their way to Nacaea and refit there. Either way, we should receive a message soon."

"I agree," said the duke. "The prince would send word as soon as possible."

"But I think that you should send a ship to their location, regardless," said Nat. "If they need help, it won't be delayed waiting for a message. And if everything turns out alright, then one of our ships will have sailed a few days to the south for no reason." Nat considered that this suggestion was extremely risky, and might be slightly biased, but he found that he didn't care. He wanted to save his friend, not sit around for a week and wait for a message.

The king nodded. "I'll consider your advice. Thanks, all of you, and of course I needn't stress the importance of keeping these events to yourself. In the meantime, Nat, please prepare to leave for Haven in the morning."

(OOC Instructions: Info and Map for Imlandris and Aranos

DO NOT post for your characters in Caelin Tal!! In my next post, Nat will be traveling from Caelin Tal to Haven (a few days' journey downriver). Haven is a port city on the coast. If your character is starting in Imlandris, please post for your character in the city of Haven.

Everyone please consider in your posts that the missing ship and prince are not public knowledge, and that characters in Imlandris would not know of these events just yet. Characters in Aranos *may* know of the battle if they are influential enough. Don't worry, our characters will all find out everything they need to know by the time they need to.

If your character is starting in Imlandris, please provide me with some context that will help me incorporate them into the story. I'm going to be seeking a group of characters to accompany Nat to Aranos. This is going to be done secretly, but I need some connection between your character and the kingdom. Maybe your character helps a public official occasionally, was arrested, is friend to someone in a high position - it doesn't matter, but some connection to the kingdom officials or the military would be very, very helpful for putting our little crew together! The way this will work: 1) you post your intro, with helpful connection, 2) I'll interact with all of you with some combination of PCs or NPCs to get your character involved, 3) We'll all come together and leave for Aranos. Interactions between your characters before we leave is optional, but the fact that the ship is missing and that a rescue mission is being staged should remain secret from the general public of Imlandris.

If your character is in Aranos... this is more complicated. Gav is currently on Celynse and needs to travel to the mainland - this makes a meeting between our characters less feasible. I propose 1) you post an intro, 2) I post, stating that the few days' worth of time during which Nat is traveling to Haven has passed in the Aranos timeframe as well, and state that Gav has traveled to the Aranos mainland during that week, and 3) Gav seeks out allies in Aranos, and finds your character(s). I'm open to other suggestions if you have any? Someone mentioned playing a spy; that would be quite helpful. I think that, with my suggestion, Gav and the other character(s) probably won't end up interacting for a few rounds of posting.

If you want to join late, post in the recruiting thread and we'll work you in. As always, post any other questions in the recruiting thread too. Thanks everyone!)

[E'doa A'nii]

"Yes m'lady" Maev quietly put down her poker and moved away from the rustling fire and towards the night stand. The massive wolf laying down by the hearth lifted his head off his paws and watched her movement with interest. His presence there seemed out of place. Like a part of the untamed wild had been brought indoors. One had the feeling that his presence was of his own choice. As if he were there for Maev only, and cared not for the safety or even presence of anyone else. Mave scratched his head as she left. He was inquiring. She didn't need Wolvgard to help her find her way about the room any more. She had been here two years now. She knew the room. The massive beast seemed to take her caress as a response and put his head down again. His eye never left her. Upon reaching the night stand Maev felt about for the hair brush. The desired comb sat by the brush and it too was picked up. The rustle of her ladyship‘s skirts means that she was sitting down.

She swished over to her mistress. Gently she grasped the soft downy hair into a low ponytail and began to run the brush through it. "My lady is not wearing her perfume tonight?" The object of her ladyship's affections would be at the gathering. The white hands put down the brush and set about twisting the perfect ponytail up into an ornate, but simple bun.

"There is such a thing as subtlety." But Maev could hear the smile and mischief in her voice.

"Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to imply that you should throw yourself at his lordship." The countess was indeed quite interested in his lordship. She fastened the bun with the comb.

"I know. Now off with you and be ready. It won't do for you to be unglamorous this evening." Maev smiled. She didn't get to go to many parties. But tonight she was to help her lady win her lordship, and for that she would have to attend. So with a swish of her skirt and a deep curtsy she scuttled off to get dressed.

Being behind the dressing screen meant being out of the wolf’s sight. So the big beast got up and padded his way across the cold stones so that he could sit where he could see. He didn’t like not being able to see his mistress, even if he knew where she was. Mave switched out of the simple white dress she wore every day, and into a dark purple one. The lavish dress set off her snow-like complexion and complemented her hair nicely.

It was a heavy piece of clothing and bedecked with much jewelry. She would look every inch the appropriate guest. She had to smile. Mistress had been quite thoughtful in providing the wardrobe. There was not a button to be had on any of the dresses. They always tied up neatly in the front, with a ribbon positioned so that it would look decorative, rather then functional. And though Maev did not know it, the kind woman had tailored the dresses to become her handmaid very well.

So it was that properly attired both ladies headed out to the party. Maev couldn’t help a smile. Perhaps tonight She would have a letter to send to King Halden.

--------------------------------

Rosealyn threw the axe she had been holding into the snow. It fell blade first with a 'schick' and dented the whiteness. The barn door slammed shut breaking the serene winter silence. Like a flash she was off, tall strides carrying her swiftly towards her target. Somehow, her quarterstaff and found her hand and flew along beside her, like a witch's broomstick she had forgotten to mount.

"Come back here you chicken thief!!" She screamed at the rapidly growing shadow.

That was no shadow. It was a man, with a sqwaking, squirming chicken tucked under each arm. He was running like blazes leaving a trail of rumpled snow behind him. Rose was following him. Each footstep fell in one of his, making the print bigger. She disturbed no new snow.

Rapidly she gained ground. The mountain woman over came the theif just as he reached a steep drop off on the side of the mountain. The man, evidently did not realize his peril until it was too late. He went skidding right over the side and would have fallen to his death with the disturbed clods of snow had not Rose stuck out her staff and caught him by the shirt with it's point.

"Just where do you think your going with my chickens?" Rosealyn Christie was an imposing woman. Stocky, tall and amply muscled, she loomed over the man. Most of the village steered clear of Rosy-Lyn. She was flinty at worst and hard at best. Getting on her bad side was not an option. Evidently the theif was a stranger to this side of the mountain.

He was youngish, wiry with a square face and an impudent set to his jaw. The impudence showed in his eyes ad his tone of voice.

"Heh..I just thought they might like a change of scenery.." He shrugged and managed a grin trying to ignore the massive woman's grip on his collar and the fact that one of the chickens was making a very painful point in his side.

"Well, they've had it. You can put them back now." Dryly. Something about those glinting green eyes made her very persuasive.

"I'm afraid I can't." Her eyes narrowed. "You see, I am anchored to this spot."

She wasn't about to release him. He would run away. Instead, she set him down and transferred her grip to the back of his collar. She gave a hefty shove. The boy stumbled forward and grudgingly commenced to shuffle his way back to the barn.

"Mind telling me why your doing it?" A command.

"Because your making me." Well, he would talk soon enough. The chickens scuttled away to the darkest part of the barn where it was safe. Rose picked up the axe and handed it to him.

"While your here you can make yourself useful."

The youth's face said everything. He looked incredulous. "I would love to stay...but I have urgent business to attend to.."

"It can wait." Quite matter of factly.

And the axe was swinging away. After the wood had been done, he was set to changing the hay in the barn. He was given dinner and a place to stay. It was, as they were sitting around the blazing fire and finishing up dinner that he finally spoke. "How long you gonna keep me here?"

Rose just smiled.

"Where you from, boy?"

"Haven."

"How you get here?"

"I was kidnapped about a month ago. Been looking to get back. I would have been there already 'cept I... I found other things to occupy me."

So, he'd gotten lost. Rosealyn sighed. She would have to take him there then. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning.” He dropped the spoon in his soup and stared.

******

The journey to haven went well for the boy. Unfortunately the author cannot say the same for Rosealyn Christie. She was seasick for the duration and spent her time in her cabin paying homage to the god Ralph.

Upon exiting the ship she had to be supported by the railing and the boy. But once her feet hit the ground called Haven she perked up considerably. Geralt (for she had learnt the boy's name) barely waited for her to recover.

He was off through the town in a flash. The pair did not stop until they reached a large house. A woman was tending the garden. Two little toddlers tripped about at her feet. A large, well dressed man sat under a tree eating an apple and scribbling away at something. The family. Mother recognized him first, because she gave a cry of joy and engulfed Geralt in a hug. Father, his writing interrupted looked up in surprise and wonder. Soon he too was hugging his son.

"How can I ever thank you?" he asked the massive woman who leaned on her thick quarterstaff.

"Raise him right."

Geralt's father chuckled. "We'll do that. If you ever need anything, let me know. I am the lord of this town, and the third cousin of the Duke of Caelin..." He took the heavy gold chain off from around his neck and handed it to her. It had the family crest on it. Evidently she was to send the medallion back if she had a request.

"Thank you. I'll do that." There wasn't any point in telling him she was going to go home in a few days and that she didn't live there.

She turned and walked away, taking care to put the family crest into her pouch so it wouldn't get tarnished. She needed to find an inn for the night.

[Nemaisare]

Sulking down the main thoroughfare of the port city, the dog did not attract a great deal of attention. He’d been seen here before, and while few would have been able to say why he was familiar, they would simply have shrugged it off by saying that he was one of the messenger hounds kept by the state government and surely most of them looked similar. Which wasn’t exactly true, but then, to most people, dogs were dogs and that was that, there was no reason to give them a closer look. Which suited Lacchi just fine. He didn’t want anyone looking twice at him. He’d never liked attention.

The only thing separating him from the strays that wandered about in the poorer parts of this town was the thick leather collar wrapped about his neck. Good for protection in dog fights, carrying about messages and coin and identifying him, through the faded crest stitched into the leather, as the property of the estate of Caelin. Or rather, Imlandris, though there wasn’t really any difference. Caelin Tal was the capital of this country and much of the controlling estate, the governance and the king, were all situated in the fine city. And it was to there that Lacchi had been ordered to return. There was money in his collar to pay for any expenses his journeys might incur from the good folk he was supposed to come across and ask to feed him. That was how it worked, after all. Everyone knew the system, even the dogs. They were the property of the country and should be treated just as human errand runners were, given room and board if they showed up and then left to go freely on their way in the morning if there wasn’t anything wrong with them.

Dogs were cheaper to keep than humans at least, so he’d heard many an inn man grumble as he took half again what he ought. But he was staying in Haven until he was rested some more, though there weren’t enough hounds to keep him off work for the day. At least he wasn’t doing any major runs. He’d overheard the kennel keeper giving orders to keep the black and white one in town and only on the slow routes. He was one of their prize runners, being a cross with some sort of racing hound, so they couldn’t afford to lose him from bad treatment. It was nice to be appreciated, but he’d still have preferred a day off to sleep and laze about.

And how he wanted to be lazy today. He’d run himself ragged for three days straight to get here because the kennel keeper had said that this was urgent news. He’d forgone a good feed and taken only enough breaks to have a drink every now and again and a few hours sleep. It was what they were supposed to do when the master ordered them to run instead of just to go someplace. So he had. He’d been dirty and panting and ready to collapse and the man had taken one look at the letter he’d carried to him and said they should have sent a bird. A bird! Of course they should have sent a bird! But obviously they hadn’t had one to send or they probably would have.

His hackles bristled slightly as he remembered how the man hadn’t even bothered to make sure he was all right. He might have been nothing more than a dog, but he had done the job asked of him well. Of course, it wasn’t really the master’s task to look after dogs; that was for the kennel keeper of this city to do. So Lacchi had been forced off the ground, though he’d dearly wanted to remain where he’d been lying, and sent down the street to the kennels where he was finally rewarded with a nice bed of straw, a heavenly round of beef, even if it had been the leftovers no human would want, and a big bowl of water. What more could a dog ask for? Why should he want more?

The cursed god sighed as he slipped around a couple walking even slower than he was and darted through the traffic to reach the other side of the street. He had been told to go to the Inn. A place of good reputation and admirable staff who kept a clean room and a good table. None of the poorer folk could rent its rooms, but from what he’d overheard while the man was writing out the letter, there was a party arriving on the waterfront that would be making use of it. So they’d need to keep their rooms free. He hadn’t heard any more details than that, he hadn’t really been paying attention. It may have been a party of one, or a party of twenty. Lacchi wasn’t overly interested. There wasn’t really anything to be interested about, it was just another message, and there would be another after it, and another.

When he got to the Inn, the hound wandered into the fancy courtyard that proved it was a place of high standing, given the cobbled and swept ground and the stables off to the side that very nearly matched the house itself, and then he sauntered to the door and barked. He could have let himself in, but the first few times he’d tried to prove his intelligence to the people he was bringing letters to, they’d reacted badly. So he refrained from invading the privacy of others and let them come open the door. Didn’t save on time, but it did save on the number of people cursing his over enthusiasm. He wagged his tail happily when a man greeted him with a frown, then barked as he kept standing there. Finally, the fellow saw the collar, which could probably have done with some restitching and maybe being replaced altogether, and put two and two together.

After which he was free to return to the kennel and find himself another message to deliver. But he saw no reason to hurry. If he wasn’t to be used for urgent business, then his absence wouldn’t affect the run of this country. In fact, his absence on any day probably wouldn’t ever affect the running of this country. The dog snorted and huffed at his foolish thoughts, then paused and plunked himself down to scratch vigorously at a sudden twinge on his neck. His claws couldn’t quite dig far enough beneath his collar to reach the niggling bother though, so he just scratched harder and faster, almost toppling over in his desire to make the itch go away. Honestly, if anyone walking by had known he was really not a dog, he would have been mortified to be caught out so desperate just to get rid of an itch. But they didn’t know, so he was perfectly free to have at it as much as he wanted to.

Finally, he paused to return the stare of the man who’d been watching his efforts in amazement. Lacchi couldn’t help but be amused. Keeping his leaning position, the hound dropped his lower jaw and let his tongue hang out in a doggy grin, laughing in his head at the fellow and then, just because he could and it was unlikely anyone would believe the man, he sent him a thought. -What? Y’ain’t never seen a dog wi’fleas afore?- Then, brown eyes dancing and folded ears flicking forward at the look on the man’s face, he righted himself and continued on. Suddenly, his day was that much brighter.

He was still panting happily when he returned to the kennel, and the old man at the desk who took down the words people wanted sent, smiled back at him as though they both shared a wonderful joke. Of course they didn’t, but since he liked the old man, and the fellow happened to be eating his lunch, Lacchi wandered over and let his chin drop into his lap. Rolling his eyes up, he begged shamelessly for a morsel of the smoked meat sandwich. He hadn’t had bread in such a long time…

[Old Hester]

A Merchant's Offices, Haven.

“Well here she is!” He stood behind his desk as they led her into the room. “I just couldn’t believe it when my bhoys told me you was so small. Who could think an ugly little old lady like you m’dear could cause me such aches.” He chuckled, the cigarette hanging between his lips jumping about as though alive. “Where’re you manners bhoys, show this lady a seat.”

Two pairs of vice hands clamped down on her shoulders and shoved her backward into a large chair. It almost swallowed her tiny frame, with its arching back and broad high shoulders. The same hands untied the cloth from her mouth with surprising delicacy.

“You fuc-” The hands replaced the cloth.

“Now now girl, no need for such thick-skinned behaviour.” He slipped round his desk, casual, elegantly, and sat in front of her, crossing his legs. Without removing it he sucked on the cigarette and inhaled. “And we know, oh we know, you can be quite thick-skinned love.”

*

She sat on the mesa, the roof of her home, and looked out through the fog of Troll Country. Flickering like little fireflies, something moved in the swirling, choking white. She had been following them for hours now, catching them right on the border and trailing them into the deepest, most dense hollows of her Country. She wasn’t sure who they were - merchants, pirates or just wayward adventurers - she didn’t care either, she just didn’t want them trespassing on her land. She extinguished her cigaretta and clambered to her feet. Her tired skin twitched its best effort at a grin. The trap was taut and about to spring, and Hester would be there to make sure it did.

*

A small wagon convoy, their wheels suckled on by the mire of Troll Country. There are three men leading; all of their hands sore, their feet rotting with damp.

“What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“There, up ahead. In the fog…”
“What’re - What the? Hey, Mister A, looka this.”

“Looka what?” A heavily cloaked man slipped off the wagon and joined the two men in the fog. “What’s that?”

“Looks like a figure. Hoy there!”
“Shhh.”
“Whatchu shushing me fur?”
“Somethin’ might hear you.”
“Somethin’? Whatchu mean somethin’?”
“You don’t think they call it troll country fur nothin’ do you?”

“Shut up. Both of you. Mister B. Take a lantern and find out what that is.” The cloaked man, Mister A, pointed at the human figure shadowed in the fog ahead. Mister B hesitated for a moment, but thought twice about crossing Mister A and turned and trudged through the swamp towards the figure. As he got closer he raised the lantern. The fog drifted reluctantly aside, like a heavy curtain, and the figure came into relief.

“What is it?” The third man - Mister C - called. Up ahead Mister B turned back with his lantern. “It’s… It’s a scarecrow. Freaky lookin- aaahhhheeeee!” The scarecrow’s shadow moved and Mister B screeched. The fog curtains railed across, hoarding the scene ahead from sight.

“What in Ralph…”
“It’s here.”
“What’s here?”
“Shut up!” Mister A snapped at Mister C. He leapt onto the wagon’s seat and struck the bell hanging there. Behind the convoy ground to a halt and a dozen shouts went up.

“What’s here Mister A? What’s that thing that took Mister B?”

“Shut up!” Mister A snapped again, rummaging in his pockets. He pulled a bell jar from some hidden depth, held it out as far from his chest as possible and opened it so very carefully. The blue ribbon which had been lurking inside snapped taut at the taste of air. It twitched. It turned slowly. Carefully. It slipped through the air, out of the bell jar and realised it was free. And realised it had a job to do. With a papery snap it shot off into the fog, leaving it’s tail behind in the bell jar. A tail to follow.

*

“It seems it wasn’t trolls after all Mister C,” Mister A stood over a crumpled old dwarf, bound by the blue ribbon from the bell jar. Mister C stood by his side. “What’d you do with Mister B!” He snarled kicking the dwarf in the back. She screeched and rolled away.

“Take her to the wagon men.” A dozen hands swallowed Old Mother Hester.

*

“Imagine. After all these years. So very long have we business men of Nerandor been trying to carve ourselves a nice slice of tender Meigian trade. And the quickest way to it’s heart, through the arteries of the Troll Country, had been guarded by a stumpy, ugly, smelly, mad old dwarf lady. You’ve quite a repertoire amongst the men of the merchant world. And quite a penny you’ve cost us all too.” He slid the cigarette across his lips, clamping it and taking another drag. “What did you say she was called?”

“Hester,” one of the hands answered.

“Just Hester?” The hand nodded.

“Well Hester,” the business man patted her bruised cheek. “A couple nights more in the gaol and you’ll hopefully look less like a holiday turkey. More fresh for the slaughter. I’ll inform my Brothers in Trade that I’ve caught the uncatchable, the troll of the Troll Country, the ghost of Meigia; that we need fear no more.” He bent his face close to hers and laughed, his cigarette jumping again.

“After all that… I can’t believe it. An ugly old woman. I can‘t believe it.” He exhaled a furnace of smoke into her face, like some loathsome dragon. The hands pulled her from the chair.

[Ričle]

A tiny, forest-flycatcher landed on the windowsill of Arthur's little hollow in Aranos, and stared at him intently from its perch. At first the mage didn't notice the arrival of such a small creature, and continued eating his breakfast in silence. But the little bird soon began peeping in earnest, and he turned around to see what the fuss was about.

He recognized the presence of a message-bird, though the species was certainly unusual. Large birds such as gulls and hawks were often used because it was easier for them to carry messages over long distances. Small birds, such as this one, were often easily killed or exhausted en route. He walked over and extended his finger, allowing the tired bird to step onto it. The message was there; it was a long one, and magically keyed to him specifically. Arthur extended his left hand above the bird and released the key spell, and the second spell that held the message was unbound from the bird. It floated in the air before him, like swirling particles of ink, and Arthur sent the spell to a blank piece of paper that lay upon a nearby table.

The message that appeared upon the page bore the seal of the king of Imlandris, whom Arthur had never met. He did, however, know Sir Gavilan quite well, and the knight's name was mentioned. As was that of the Imlandris prince, and the mage Baltek. The king asked Arthur to suspend his current plans for travel in Aranos and help to find the missing prince, as well as the other men on the missing ships.

Arthur sighed, and sat back down upon his chair. The little bird continued to perch patiently on his finger, though it was free of the spell, and Arthur poured some water into a bottle-cap for the creature and set the bird on the table to drink. The flycatcher dipped its bill into the offered water and sat for some time, and when it began to look lively again Arthur called to the winds outside and found a swarm of gnats, bringing them through the window. The bird hopped to the back of the empty chair across from Arthur, eagerly perching and calling, and began flitting through the swarm, snapping its bill and picking off the gnats one by one.

Rubbing his hands stressfully upon his forehead, Arthur contemplated why he couldn't seem to manage to escape such troubles. Perhaps the world was simply filled with them. He burned the king's message, withdrew a second piece of paper, and began penning a letter to one of the king's spies, Maev, in the Aranos court. The Imlandris prince may be in Aranos; find out if he is alive was coded into the text.

He would have to send the letter by regular post, and it would not arrive until the day after tomorrow. By then Arthur would be in the west of Aranos, searching for survivors.

(OOC to Maev: The opportunity for Maev to obtain this information will be provided in my next post. Go ahead and post Maev's receipt of the letter, and let me know of anything else you need).

*****

A squire walked into the Traveler's Way in Haven, and inquired if he might be directed to the room of Rosalyn Christie. He was perhaps a bit tall for a squire, and older than one might expect, but he drew no suspicions from anyone. The innkeeper obliged the polite and well-spoken young man and sent him upstairs, directing him to the third room on the right.

He knocked upon the door, and when the red-headed woman answered he bowed deeply. "Forgive me for disturbing you, Miss Christie, I know your journey has been long and you must be eager for a night's rest. Might I beg a few moments of your time, in private?"

The man entered the room, and the two sat down at the small table by the wall. "First, let me say that I am not quite as I seem. I've only come dressed as a simple squire to hide the nature of my purpose." The man pulled his outer tunic to the side to reveal the king's crest upon his undershirt. This identified him as one of the few chosen Knights of Caelin, honored men who gave their lives to serve their king and Imlandris. "My name is Melin, and, as you see, I am a knight of Caelin. I come to ask your help in the name of the king, Rosalyn Christie. The father of the boy you brought to Haven spoke very highly of you to many of my comrades, and it was come to be known that you are from the southern province near the mountains. We are sending a party to that province with urgent purpose, but their journey must remain as secret as possible. None of the men we have here in Haven know that area well, and no others can be called upon with the urgency or discretion that we need. Instead, would you be willing to guide our party to a specific location in the mountains? The location we were given is obscure, and likely only understandable by someone who is familiar with the wilderness in that area."

"I must be up front, Miss Christie, there may be some danger to your life - especially if knowledge of this journey is spread. The danger will likely be minimal from Haven to your homeland, and much greater once they reach the meeting-point they seek. We would not ask you to help us if you are at all uncomfortable with this fact."

*****

"This is it? Your best one?"

"That's him, sir," the kennel keeper said, indicating Lacchi. "He's on in-town duty for now, I'm afraid. They're sending him up to Caelin Tal in a week or so. But I've other fine hounds that would suit better, if you come over here-"

"No," said the city watch officer. "The orders changed; they said they want this one. We're pulling him from message duty and sending him to the castle in Haven. Lord Roupe requires him."

"Very well," said the kennel keeper, looking down at the orders he'd been handed.

The city watch officer led Lacchi away from the kennel, and down the city streets towards the castle. He interacted little with the dog, treating him as a simple duty that was part of his regular day. Once they were inside the castle keep the officer took Lacchi across the yard and into a side entrance, where they instantly detected the smells of cooking. Down a hall and through a nearby door were the castle kitchens, and the officer indicated that this was where Lacchi was to stay. "Kristen," the officer called over one of the cooks. "Can you keep an eye on this guy for a day or two? Lord Roupe wants him kept nearby and ready to go at a moment's notice. He's well-trained, so he won't be a bother."

The woman looked dubiously down at the dog. The last thing she wanted in her kitchen was fleas. "If the lord requests it," she said reluctantly. "But he's to have a bath to get rid of the fleas, and he needs to stay out of the main kitchen. He can stay in the chef's sitting-room, the kitchen crew won't mind having him in there."

The officer nodded. "Don't let him wander about the castle," he said. "And feed him well, he's going to need the energy in a few days."

Kristen looked at him like he was stating the obvious. "Honestly, who do you know in a kitchen who isn't well fed? C'mon, dog. It's bath time."

*****

A bruised and battered Old Hester was brought into the Haven city jail by a group of proud and rowdy merchants. She was declared a witch, an enemy of the state, and charges were being pressed against her for loss of merchant goods and for the disappearance of a number of brave souls who guarded the merchant trains. The prison guard looked at the merchants strangely, seeming utterly shocked. "A witch? You're serious? A real, honest witch?"

"That's right, a witch!" they exclaimed. "What's so unusual about a witch? There's lots of 'em around, though they're squirrely as 'ell to catch. We oughta know!"

"Of course. Yes. You're right," said the guard, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. "Here is your paperwork, we'll contact you when the magistrate is ready to hear the trial." They took Hester and her stick, placing one in a cell and the other in a locked closet.

Not two hours later, Melin entered the jail. He was dressed as a knight this time, and accompanied by one of Lord Roupe's most trusted mages. The prison guard showed him to Old Hester's cell. Melin bowed politely. "My name is Melin," he said to the old woman. "I am a knight of Caelin, which I'm sure means little to you, but my word is good, if that's any comfort. My friend here is a healer, and he will heal your bruises, with your permission."

"I come to offer a trade," Melin continued. "The government of Imlandris takes no part in your dispute with the merchants, especially as the merchants break more laws in their business overseas than you do by fighting them. I have seen the evidence and can tell you truthfully that our laws are not going to find you guilty based only on the word of the merchants. So, you need not worry about the charges you face. However, the fact that the merchants brought you to Imlandris presents some difficulty, as I assume you would like to return home to Meigia once you are set free. We are prepared to offer you a return trip to Meigia in exchange for a favor. Would you, Hester, be willing to travel to Aranos and use your witch magic to aid our kingdom? If you agree, we will send you home on a ship that leaves for Meigia in two months' time."

[Old Hester]

Old Hester was sprawled across the cot, her face tented by those gigantic hands of hers when Melin and some ostentatious mage entered the cell. She didn’t look up at first, keeping her eyes closed and moaning, “Vann almighty! Does no one rest on this side of the world? I’ve been hurled, shoved, cursed, every fast paced and painful verb in the world since home.”

She peeled one eye open, peering at the two men between her fingers. “Who’re you’s?” She allowed the knight to explain without interruption. She was more than bright enough to realise the situation she had landed herself in this time was quite the bottleneck. She was willing to take any card from the deck, as long as it got her out of jail free. She sat up.

“Witch?” She chuckled. “Alright… If you say so."

"Hmm…” She rolled her tongue across her teeth, counting them like an abacus, thinking the offer through. “I ain’t never heard of no Aranos… Just don’t lay your magicking fingers on me,” she narrowed her eyes at the healer, “I don’t want no magic stinking me up. The stench is clinging to me enough as it is. Those damn merchants worked some nasty juju on me at home." Oh that note, she nodded, as though deciding. "Get my cane and I'm yours. It's a tall thing, thingamabobs dangling all from it. They took it off me when I was brought here, dunno where they hid it.”

*

The cane was found in a closet between a mop it’s bucket and a broom. They all looked suddenly forlorn when the cane and it’s thingamabobs were plucked from their side. Hester thanked the two men and, using it as a crutch, lifted herself off the cot and onto her feet. “Lead on mister Melin.”

[Nemaisare]

Hmph! Lacchi eyed the officer with no small amount of injured dignity. Imagine! Waking up to have two men staring at you and then having one of them ask 'this is it?' as though they were disappointed! Well, what had the man been expecting? A horse? Or maybe he'd wanted a mastiff. Well, how unfortunate for him. The god yawned and stretched as they talked between themselves, then went to curl up in the corner of his pen to go back to sleep. He'd grown used to the idea of being lazy for the whole amount of time he was given to be lazy. After all, the rest of his life was now taken up with carrying messages about. He got enough exercise doing that that he didn't see any reason to give himself more.

It seemed he wasn't to be given the chance however. The black and white hound sighed as he was called to the door. Orders were orders and that's what had come his way. Good thing he was only a well-trained mutt who didn't have to know what those orders were exactly. Lacchi couldn't help but wonder at this strange behaviour, at the shift in the routine he had known for a few years now. Oh sure, there were the occasional requests made in cases where messages weren't quite ready to be sent off yet, or when a noble was worried he might need to send off some missive quickly, or while traveling, but it wasn't often. And almost never for a specific dog. So, he had grounds to be suspicious, especially since that specific dog happened to be him.

Still he followed the officer without much fuss and enjoyed the fairly slow pace the man set. Apparently, they weren't about to go traveling any time soon or they'd have been walking at least a mite faster. It was a nice day though, had been when he'd gone out that morning to stretch his legs while delivering a quick money note to the butcher for the meat they'd been taking off of him, and still was. It was full of sights and scents and sounds. The very same ones he passed every day. The baker's shop with its flour and yeast, the dyer's with their boiling liquids and smelling fabrics, wet wool, piss and rotting plants. There was the smith, in the distance, hammer ringing against an anvil, and the fields, pleasantly left to their own devices, since the fine Lord Roupe had no wish to look out his windows every day and see toiling, dirty peasants.

The air was fresh, the wind was gentle, the sun warm on his back and he should probably be worrying more about just what was in store for him when they reached the castle. Lacchi could not, however, bring himself to the level of anxiety required for him to bother. Short of dashing off now and ruining a good career, one that saw him well-fed and sheltered from the rain, there wasn't much he could do about it until it happened. And, who knew? Maybe there wasn't anything going to happen. So he'd have wasted his time worrying over nothing. He hoped...

When they got to the castle, Lacchi would have enjoyed the chance to look around, have a sniff about and search out any good hiding places. Or maybe just find the Lord and learn what it was he was wanted for, but of course, no one thought to tell the dog anything. One would think he'd have grown used to it by now. Which was probably the reason he didn't try to learn anything more. Instead, he continued to follow the man meekly and was overjoyed when he caught the scent of the place they were walking towards. A kitchen was, according to him, a far more important place to visit than any high and mighty lord's study. After all, a kitchen had food.

Lacchi's crinkled ears perked up as a woman came over, and he waved his tail back and forth just in case... But she didn't bring any food with her, and then went and dashed all his hopes in one breath. Not being able to stay in the kitchen meant that he wouldn't be able to beg! But he'd be stuck near enough that he'd be smelling all the wonderful smells! And someone was going to give him a bath... Lacchi didn't like bathes. It was one thing to be clean, it was quite another to get half-drowned with water up your nose and in your ears and soap suds in your eyes. He glanced dubiously up at the officer who'd brought him here, but the man only glanced down at him once, gave Kristen the news that he'd be staying there for a few days and left him there with her.

At the woman's positive commentary on the state of people who remained in, or near, the kitchen, his tail picked up a little rhythm for a moment, but apparently, his dreams weren't about to be realised just yet. Lacchi sighed as he followed the woman out another door and was given into the care of a younger woman who looked positively delighted to be given the task of dog washing. Well, he shared her delight. But at least it might get rid of the itchy pests that had been plaguing him since he'd slept in that barn awhile back. And maybe after that bath would come the food...

[xvcrimsajadevx]

Xiella 'Silvertongue'

Silvertongue worked above deck, sorting the ropes and checking knots, retying anything that needed retying as the Boatswain commanded while the Gunner and his mates saw to the cannons and their ports lining the sides of the deck. Looking out over the port railing on the starboard side, the draconis was relieved to see the rocky cliffs of Celynse coming into view; their craggy hideaway so close at hand. High above the gulls danced happily, calling out in subsequent unison, hoping to claim for themselves whatever small morsel they could find.

Though it had been several days since the smaller schooner, The Devil’s Gale, had been engaged with the three large, well build warships of Imlandaris along with several other ships of pirate kind, and their search for any survivors was finally at an end. Still, there was stmuch unease among much of the crew. Like most pirates, Xiella could have been considered ‘uneducated’ along with most of the crew, especially seeing as she had spent a good deal of her life in the wild lands of Nerandor living off foaming tribesmen before jumping into banditry and then piracy, but it did not take much to recognize the signs of potential war.

Only the Captain and his officers seemed all too pleased with their part in the confrontation. Personally the draconis had to wonder what kind of bargain they had struck with the Aranos government as pirates of their smaller stature rarely got involved in external affairs. Whatever it was though, Xiella was certain she and the crew would see no cut.

Perhaps she would not have been so concerned by this though were it not for her position among the crew. Sometimes the draconis swore she was being punished for past misdeeds; her immaculate voice and inexplicable charm captivated people despite her worse-for-wear appearance and stony disposition. She did not know how she drew people in – she just did – and this enigmatic talent had gotten her elected as the ship’s Quartermaster; the liaison for the entire ship and crew.

This meant she was constantly relaying messages between the officers and crew; keep track of inventory and supplies, and making sure the sip maintained a positive moral. This also meant she was in a world of constant hell. If something suddenly ran out, broke down, or went missing, it was instantly her fault and she had to bare the blame until the problem could be solved. It was even more annoying when there was a state of discord among the crew.

Her tail twitched agitatedly behind her; another reason that had likely drawn the crew to her. They were meek, composed of mostly humans, elves, and other similar races, and were either afraid of the Captain and his officers, or did not have the intellect to take command themselves. Xiella was not though, and though most of the crew did not recognize humanis draconis to see one, it was not hard to tell she was different than the rest.

While much of her appeared to be human, there was little Xiella could do about the tail that hovered behind her short of cutting it off. It covered in midnight scales, and while it had become shorter and stubbier than an average draconis’s tail in human form because of the large chunks that had been carved from it in both her human and draconis form over the years, it was still prominent enough not to go unnoticed.

If that wasn’t enough to set her apart from the rest of the crew, there were also her eyes. They had no whites; no irises, or pupils at all. Instead, it appeared as though a thunderstorm had been caught within translucent orbs, thick midnight clouds toiling and tumbling within; the mark of the shadow realm from which her race was from. The fact that her eyes had taken on a blue hue was odd in and of itself though, as the eyes of the draconis were almost always black.

She had never shown this particular crew her draconis form, but somehow they all knew that she was more powerful than she let on. If anyone was to lead a mutiny against those in command of The Devil’s Gale, the rest of the crew was determined to see that it be her. Unfortunately for them though, Xiella Silvertongue had no interest in taking command, even with this latest slight from their Captain.

“Quartermaster!” a voice called out from behind her, and she turned to ‘Old Dogface’, the Captain’s Lieutenant, himself. “You’re to take a boarding party ashore to gather supplies. The longboats have already been prepared.”

“Aye Sir,” Xiella said with a nod, “I shall see too it as soon as I finish up here,” She then turned to finish threading a new length of rope through some rigging, but found herself being forced back around to face the Captain’s hand. It took much to resist slapping the ugly of the man’s face right then and there.

“You are to leave now,” the Lieutenant damn near spat in her face. “Captain’s orders. You’re boarding crew has already been selected and is waiting. The Boatswain can find someone else to do the rigging.”

She stared at the man, trying to keep the hatred out of her gaze. “Aye Sir. I’ll see to it right away.” So, this was the way her service aboard the The Devil’s Gale ended, was it? Well, it was getting to time for her to be moving on. She had been planning on leaving the ship sometime in the near future anyways…

[E'doa A'nii]

The party had been divine. Maev had been able to dance with several young squires, and had a lovely conversation with an adventurous and daring young man who sat much too close to the fire and burnt himself. Well, his clothes anyway. The poor fellow had to excuse himself that he might make reparations to his singed state.

But that was two days ago, and Maev was once again attending the regular and oft quiet routine that was her duty. She had learnt little at the party. It was rude to flirt with someone else's Chosen, and the Baron had paid little interest in the hand maid. Which was for the best. She had done what she could to glean information elsewhere and had not been successful. Such was the life of the spy. One could have a steady trickle or a torrent of information for a short while and then nothing for years.

Nothing didn't mean things weren't happening. It just meant that whatever was happening hadn't been discovered yet. Most information to be discovered was sent over by order. Anything accidentally discovered was just that. So mostly her life was one of waiting.

Today she was taking up a hem in one of her mistress' gowns to suit the latest fashion. Fashion now dictated that hems stopped at the ankles. That left dozens of dresses to be taken up. Maev Naomhan-Nara was on her fourth that morning; the tenth in two days. This particular dress was tricky in that it was made of silk and so the stitches must be small and close. Such perticular stitches were difficult to execute on fabric which slipped so readily.

Maev was a good seamstress and she fought the fabric well.

Wolvgard hated sewing; hated being cooped up for hours at a day. He had been more frolicky then usual, so Maev had promised him a good run after lunch. She had an hour's free-time then, and planned to run the beast ragged. Tine dragged on for another half-hour and the woman was loosing patience with the cloth. She'd been at the dress for the better part of the morning and her fingers had been poked rather badly. She was becomming irritated.

"M'lady!" She called off the balcony to the statuesque below.

"Yes, girl? What is it?"

"I want to go a bit early for my walk."

"Go ahead, I shan't be needing you till tonight." There was a dismissive wave of her hand and the noblewoman returned to her task.

Delighted Maev called to Wolvgard (though she really didn't need to) and the pair set off for their walk. It was to be more of a run really. Before she could start, however, maev was stopped by the postman--a scrawny old man on a donkey.

"Your the Wolf Lady, aren't ya?" He really needn't have asked. The massive white wolf standing by the woman's side was answer enough, and if he needed further proof his donkey's unease provided it. All the same Maev nodded.

There was a moment of silence.

"I have some mail fer ya."

Another moment of silence. Trying not to look discomfited by the wolf, the old man extended a handful of envelopes to the young woman. She didn't reach out to take them. Puzzled the man frowned.

"You don't owe me anything, you know."

"I know. Give them to Wolvgard. Don't be afraid, he won't hurt you." She reassured him.

Now the man really was concerned. The great white wolf was a fearful looking canine indeed. Trembling he handed the envelopes to the wolf, who took them delicately between his teeth and set off towards the palace at a fast lope. Feeling as if he had debased himself, the man clucked to his donkey and left.

When her companion returned he carried but one envelope which the kitchen-boy had sent back with him. Rolph was probably the only person in the palace who was not disturbed by the presence of the massive animal. Infact, the page felt at awe around the wolf and delighted in it's company. He was quite at home ordering the animal about, so it was very likely that the rest of the mail had been delivered.

Maev placed her letter in the bosom of her dress. She would have her mistress read it to her when she got back.

----------------------

There was a knock on her door. Rosealyn Christie gave a soft groan, put her book down and shuffled about in search of her robe. Whoever it was knocking this late in the evening had better have a very good excuse. She grabbed her quarter staff and opened the door. Melin would never have known of the staff's existence unless his warrior's training told him. It fit perfectly behind the open door and was held there in such a way as to appear nonexistent.

The large woman glared at him from under a mess of wavy red hair. She was wearing a furred robe over a thick cotton night gown that tickled her collarbone and touched her toes. At this hour and in her present mood, she looked more like a wolf then the skin she was wearing. Infact, the wolf was probably friendlier before she killed it.

-- 'Miss Christie'? It had been a long while since she had been called 'Miss' anything,let alone 'Miss Christie.' The folk always called her Old Christie, despite the fact that she was far from old. Rosy-Lyn, Rose (rarely), Lyn and even Flinty Lyn. But never 'miss'. 'Ma'am' was the closest she'd gotten to anything. Sometimes she wondered if the village even remembered she was human. Not that it mattered much. There were more important things to care about, such as why he was here--

She had more then half a mind not to let him in. No decent person came prowling around a woman's room this late at night. Well, he could come in if he wanted to. She nodded and made way for him to enter. He took a seat at the table by the far wall so she did too. She may have left her quarter staff at the door but that didn't mean she wouldn't take him. Squire or no.

Well, he was from the king. She could recognize a royal symbol when she saw one. His name was Melin and he wanted help. Word traveled fast. Very fast. Especially for such a large town as this. They made her little village in seem slow. So they wanted her to guide them across her mountain. It might as well be her mountain. As far as she knew she was the only one up there.

She would guide them. If it was for the king then it was worth doing. Besides, it could get awfully routine up there in those mountains. Even the adventure of fighting nature could get old. It would be nice to test her strengths in other areas for awhile. Uncomfortable? She almost laughed then. Death was the mountain. Between the wild animals, the violent and tempestuous weather, the avalanches, the mountain's temper and the rugged terrain death lurked around every corner.

And she should be uncomfortable by a threat on her life. Granted the source was different but death was death all the same. The leathery woman smiled then. It was a big smile; jovial. "You've got yourself a guide." She stood up stretching her long legs. She made the table look tiny.

"Won't need no horses. Pack lightly. Dress warm. Bring lots of salted meat and wafers. Forget the water."

Simple instructions. But very vital. "See you tomorrow."

Obviously she expected him to be leaving now. He would need his rest if he was to embark on that journey. Arithymas was a hard master.

----------------------------

The letter was vaguely signed and not dated. The paper was crisp and white and the handwriting a bit shaky. Unusally so. Maev's mistress smoothed out the paper on her lap.

My dear daughter

,Her ladyship began,

It has been a long trip, and will have been an even longer one by the time this letter reaches you. I am glad to say that I arrived at port. However, I cannot say the same for the ship. We ran aground on a sand bar last night and in the morning we dragged in to the nearest port. The captain said she's badly damaged and may not sail again.

Can't say much for the inn. --I think I have gained an ailment in my travels, as I am in great pain and have been feeling rather weak. The doctor is uncertain as to what it may be; but he says that depending on what it is, I may not have long to live. I am sorry to bring you such bad news. I am sorry the letter is short. It is late I am ill and the innkeeper is grouchy. I hope this letter finds you well and in good care.

Do not bother to write back, as I do not currently know my location; not having been able to leave my room. I do not think I could receive letters anyway because Phelkas is a bear. I shall write again when I am well enough, and the pen is not so heavy. Give Wolvgard my love.

Your's Ever,
Father

Maev's blank white eyes teared up halfway through the letter and by the end of it she was sobbing. Her ladyship patted her gently (for she was fond of her maid) and left the girl alone with her sorrow...

Having read of her mission, Halden's spy awaited her chance to fulfill it.

[Ričle]

Nat's boat arrived nearly a day earlier than it was expected. He had ordered the captain to press the oarsmen hard during the journey, offering rest and a bonus upon their arrival in Haven. The oarsmen had performed spectacularly. Twenty of king Halden's finest soldiers disembarked from the river ship, with Nat limping along behind them dressed in his soldier's coat with the knight's crest upon the sleeve. Lord Roupe, a black-haired young in his twenties, rode to the dock personally to greet the king's men. He was young for a lord, but well-suited to his job, and in his few years of service had become relatively well-liked by his subjects. The young man clasped Nat's hand eagerly in greeting. "Sir Nathan," he said, "Welcome to Haven. It's good to see you back, I remember the last time you spent time here, some years past, with your friend Sir Gavilan." Lord Roupe shifted awkwardly, having spoken before he recalled that Nat's friend was currently missing. "My father was lord of the city back then," he continued, attempting to shift the subject. "I recall he spoke very highly of you."

If Nat felt any awkwardness at the mention of Gav, he didn't allow it to show. He returned the Lord's handshake readily. "Thank you, Lord," he replied, with a completely business-like tone. His expression indicated urgency, and Lord Roupe knew at once that the knight needed transportation to the castle so that they could discuss the mission, of which Lord Roupe knew only a little. "I'm sure you're tired after your journey," said the Lord, not sincerely but as an excuse to be on their way. He glanced dubiously at Nat's leg. "Can you ride a horse, Sir?"

Nat shook his head. "I think it would be best if I didn't try. Can we take a carriage?"

The lord nodded. "Of course, sir." Silently he worried; was Sir Nathan truly recovered enough from his injury for such a difficult mission?

Lord Roupe sent for a carriage, and the two men rode together to the castle while Nat's soldiers marched visibly through the streets of the great city. Lord Roupe watched the people's faces as they saw the Caelin soldiers in their streets, and considered the consequences of bringing the soldiers in so publicly. "Sir," he said to Nathan, "With the Caelin soldiers in the city, rumors are going to spread. We won't be able to keep the Sea Flower's disappearance secret any longer. Once your warship leaves tomorrow the city will know that we're sending reinforcements after the prince."

"That's alright," said Nat absently, his thoughts focused elsewhere. "Now that we've arrived in Haven, other things are becoming more important than secrecy. Is the warship ready?"

"Yes, sir," said the duke. "She's anchored around the point, out of view of the city and her roads. We'll flag her in now, she should dock with the evening tide."

"Very good," said Nat. "See that she's loaded with everything she needs, and that the soldiers I've brought are on board first thing tomorrow for the departure. And I'd like to talk to Melin, once we've arrived at the castle."

-------------------

Nat was shown to a private office, and Melin was sent for immediately. The other knight arrived swiftly. Melin was short, especially compared to Nat, and stocky in build. He was in his early forties, and his blond hair was thinning and darkening as he aged. His left cheek was scarred by a blade in his youth, and his torso bore many scars as well. His appearance was deceiving, for he was sturdy and well-muscled, and could move quick as a cat when it suited him. Nat looked up at the other man's entrance and smiled warmly and genuinely. Few knights of Caelin served the king, and Nat and Melin knew each other well. They greeted each other warmly, and since departing Caelin Nat was glad to be in the presence of someone who understood his sense of loss.

But there was little time for reminiscing and mourning; the two men quickly sat down and began to discuss the matter at hand.

"How many have you found?" Nat asked, his voice edged with concern.

"Three," replied Melin, regretfully. "Including the dog. There are few in Haven who are loyal, willing, and discrete to conscript. I could perhaps find one or two more, with a little time." He was clearly disappointed with his own performance, especially given how important the mission was.

Nat was indifferent; he understood that Melin's ability to find people who could help their mission depended on who happened to be in Haven at that time. "You only have until tonight," he said. "We must leave as soon as possible. But a small group is all we need, I think we will make do."

"Tonight it is. I'll make the arrangements," said Melin, casting that same doubtful look at Nat's injured leg as Lord Roupe had earlier, but honoring his fellow knight by saying nothing. If Nat couldn't ride, it would severely endanger the mission. Perhaps king Halden should have sent a more capable knight to travel to Aranos?

"Did you find a guide to take us to the meeting point?" Nat asked, oblivious to Melin's doubts.

Melin nodded. "Yes, we were fortunate. A suitable woman arrived in Haven yesterday. She's quite forceful, and insisted upon no horses and a dawn departure. Perhaps she misunderstood my request and believes we are venturing into more mountainous terrain, but I didn't want to risk revealing the location of the meeting place prematurely by correcting her. Either way, I think you'll find her quite troublesome." He was chuckling.

Nat simply nodded an acknowledgment. His lack of good humor was a sign of the stress and weariness he felt, and Melin recognized this. He began to worry for the other knight, thinking that perhaps more was wrong with the man than an injured leg. "Look, Nat," he said, "Why don't you rest for the afternoon? I can take care of the preparations, and Lord Roupe is personally overseeing the departure of the warship."

Nat looked up at Melin, suddenly aware how weary he must appear to others and mentally rebuking himself. "No," he said firmly, straightening his shoulders and consciously brightening his facial features. "I appreciate your offer, but this is too important. I need to follow every detail through to the end, or something could go wrong. Please make sure that our group is prepared to meet outside the city tonight, as planned."

Melin nodded deferentially.

----------------------

Hester's wounds were tended carefully and without the use of magic. After she and Melin left the jail her staff was returned to her, and she was kept safe and hidden inside a comfortable house in Haven for the next several days. During this time Hester was well-fed, guarded (for her protection, in case the merchants found out she was alive), and it was strongly suggested that she remain inside the little house and its garden to avoid any accidental contact with the men who had captured her. It was publicly circulated that the trial had found her guilty of murder, and that she had been hanged.

Mid-afternoon on the fifth day of Hester's stay, Melin knocked upon the door. He first inquired as to Hester's health, and whether she felt up to the long journey. "We will be leaving tonight," he said. "There is a horse in the stable that's been provided for you. She's a calm, steady beast with a rounded back - I thought that would be easier on your old bones. Your guard can help you saddle her. I'll come tonight at eight o'clock or so and together we'll ride out of town to meet the others. All the provisions you should need are in your saddlebags."

------------------------

Melin returned to Rosalyn's door the day following his initial visit. He explained that the leader of their party had at last arrived in the city, and that they would leave tonight after dark. "There is a horse stabled under your name in the Inn next door," he said, "We will meet at the copse of aspen trees beside the south road, about half a mile outside the city, at nine o'clock. We plan to make our way south with all possible speed to the town of Gespaldt, near your home. From there we ask you to guide us to a specific place in the forest where we must meet someone important. Our leader has a description of the location in writing, he will show it to you."

(OOC to Nemai: Since they think Lacchi is only a dog, Melin will simply come and get him when they're ready to leave. If you want to post, please assume that the cute doggie is well-fed and spoiled by the kitchen staff!)

--------------------------

The three pirate ships that had participated in the battle were anchored in the shelter of a secluded bay on the western Celynese coast. Their captains made their way to shore, where Havvad, servant to the prince of Aranos, awaited them. The captains wanted payment for their participation in the destruction of the Imlandris ship, and Havvad was present, as agreed upon, to provide that payment. It was strange that the full payment was being made after the job had been completed, and the pirate captains had been irritated with such a proposal. However, Havvad had indicated the benefits of destroying a vessel whose mission was to combat piracy in the seas between Celynese and Nacaea, and seasoned the deal with the promise that if any of the three pirate ships was destroyed during the battle that the share of the drowned ship would be divided amongst the others. The captains had reluctantly conceded to the delay, reasoning that, after all, it was easy work. In truth they had participated little in the battle, aside from luring the enemy into the trap and firing a few cannon rounds to prevent the Sea Flower from escaping.

The pirates, of course, were a problem. Nearly all of the prince's money had been spent purchasing, equipping, and furnishing the Aranos war vessels that had been sent to destroy the Sea Flower, and there was no money left to pay the pirates the agreed-upon sum for their participation. Furthermore, the prince did not desire that anyone in Aranos glean that he had secretly conceived and executed an attack on an Imlandris ship. The pirates would, of course, spread this information once they returned to port. Havvad's purpose on the beach today was, therefore, not to compensate the pirates for their work, but to alleviate these problems.

Havvad was flanked by eight imperial guards, and three small chests sat before him in the sand. The chests were empty, but because the pirates expected Havvad to bring their gold, to avoid premature anger or suspicion, Havvad wanted to appear as if he had that gold. He stood still as a statue, his hand on his sword and his eyes on the beach, as each of the captains came ashore. The captains were flanked by their first mates and one or two trusted sailors, and came to stand beside their respective chests. When all were assembled, Havvad addressed them together.

"Captains Gord, Ferallon, and Min, may the goddess bring winds to your sails." Havvad gave no bow with his greeting; a sign that he considered his status well above theirs. "His highness prince Inai'rafen, Lord of Selan, brother to the divine empress, sends me to inform you that he will not, at this time, provide the payment that was agreed upon for your aid in the destruction of the Imlandris ships. Furthermore, the prince commands that you and your crews are to depart Aranos seas for two months, during which time you will speak to no one of the battle you have witnessed. Upon your return the prince will provide each captain with the agreed payment."

There was an instant uproar amongst the pirates. They shouted, they swore, and they drew their swords. Between the three captains and their mates there were eleven pirates facing Havvad and his guards, and they clearly considered it a well-matched fight.

"Listen 'ere, Havvad, and listen close!" shouted captain Gord. "We be honorable pirates, and 'ave kept our part o' the bargain. We don't care none 'bout no orders from Rafen, he's got no command o'er us! You tell your prince that he's to give us our share, or - pirates we be - we'll steal it from 'im and run through any that gits in our way! Ho!"

"And what's this 'bout our leavin' Aranos?" added captain Min. "Who's he think 'e is? 'Tis prime trade season! We won't make no decent livin' hoverin' about Nacea this time o' year, I say!" He spat. "Hell with that!"

Havvad made no movement or emotional reaction to their shouting, and his guards remained equally still. "I'm sorry captains, but the prince will not alter his terms. There is no payment for you at this time."

"'ell there ain't!" Shouted captain Gord, kicking over an empty chest. "We'll skin you alive ere you get your prince to give us our gold!"

The eleven pirates shouted a battle cry, charging Havvad with their swords drawn. Havvad remained still, but his guards flew forward with amazing skill, decapitating the first pirate and disemboweling the second. Havvad watched their deaths passively, and removed his hand from his sword.

That was the signal. A rain of arrows fell upon the pirates that had landed on the shore, and balls of fire and oil, magically guided, catapulted at the three ships in the harbor. After two rounds, the ships were each aflame and their crews were diving into the water, surrendering their fates to the mercy of the falling arrows.

Havvad was thorough in his work. His guards dispatched the captains easily, and the archers continued to fire until every pirate that had not drowned or burned lay dead or dying upon the beach. The ships floated out to sea, sinking beneath the waves.

When it was done Havaad and his guards turned and walked back to the road, where their horses were waiting. Havvad's men remained to dispatch the remaining pirates, and dispose of the bodies in the sea. Havvad, his guards, and a contingent of mages and soldiers mounted their horses and rode eastward, where a ship awaited to take them back to Aranos.

(OOC to Crim: I assume Xeilla escapes Xeilla and Gav are both on Celynse, perhaps they could meet? Please steer Xeilla to a port town on the eastern coast of Celynese if yes, and Gav will somehow interact with her.)

------------------------

The country of Aranos is ruled by an empress, named Yui'faei at her birth but raised to the divine with her ascension to the throne. The empress is believed to be touched by the goddess of the Aranos faith, such that a piece of the goddess's soul resides inside her body. This gives the empress her divinity, and as such she is revered, loved, and feared as a corporeal form of the goddess herself. Her beauty is spoken of as legendary, and she is considered so sacred that no mortal may look upon her. All of her servants are blind, often by choice for the honor of serving the deity. Aside from her servants, only the royalty of Aranos, those blessed and guided by the goddess herself, may hear her speak. She lives a long, chaste life, often hundreds of years, until the goddess blesses her with a vision of her successor. A baby girl will be born somewhere in the kingdom; this girl is brought to the empress and her family is raised to royalty. Fifteen years later the empress will die and the piece of the goddess's soul that resided in her will return to its whole. The goddess will then touch the new child, and create a new empress of Aranos. All royalty in Aranos are relatives of an empress, past or present, and children chosen as empress are often born from their families.

Yui'faei was born to a royal family not forty years ago; she has one older brother, Inai'rafen. Her parents were killed many years past, though her aunts and uncles remain to receive her guidance along with those families of previous empresses. Nineteen years ago the empress, in her divine voice, prophesied a warning to the royalty of Aranos:

The goddess weeps.
In Imlandris, one is born touched by the gods.
His blood will tear the land
Bringing death upon her People;
Only the tůathien will know him.

Mercy, mercy,
The goddess weeps.

The empress was quiet, and could not be compelled to repeat or explain her words. Rafen was present when the prophesy was given, and the words burned themselves into his mind. While others soon gave up attempting to discern its meaning, Rafen made it his purpose to find the person mentioned in this prophesy, and to prevent the deaths of the people that the prophesy alludes to.

It was the tůathien that led him to the answer. In the depths of a library in Imlandris, in a book that was very difficult to access, an ancient verse spoke that when time began and the peoples of Elumintir settled Nerandor, the kings of Imlandris were bound to the earth, and the tůathien was their guide. With the progress of time that power faded in the bloodlines of the kings, except when the gods chose to intervene. Rarely, one of the kings of Imlandris would be chosen to bear this gift, as his ancestors had in the past. Rafen knew not whom this tůathien might be, but nineteen years ago, at the same time the empress's prophesy was given, a prince of Imlandris was born. Palamir was the one he sought.

But during those nineteen years, while Rafen sought this threat to his country, he let his purpose consume his life so completely that he became disliked by his subjects, his family, and his empress. He failed as a lord, never at home and never performing the duties that would allow his lands and their peoples to prosper. His family thought him negligent, and his sister expressed her disappointment with his service, though she never stripped him of his duties or his holdings and seemed always to expect him to be greater than he was. This disappointment truly broke his heart. He bowed to her with his face upon the floor, weeping and begging her forgiveness, stating that his only purpose was to serve the goddess, and that his actions were motivated by what he believed in his heart to be in her service. But she gave him only silence, and his family scorned him.

And so he continued on in secret, searching for the man who would bring death to his country and believing it his life's purpose to save his country from this evil. When Rafen finally learned the identity of the man in the prophesy he rejoiced, believing that at last he would prove his worth to his empress and his family, and save his country from this foreign threat. He poured what few assets his lands provided him into the purchase of three warships, and together with the hired pirates sent them to destroy the Imlandris ships and to capture Palamir. He was successful.

Rafen waited in his home on the coast of Aranos for his warship, which sailed in stealth by night along the Strait of Melynas to deliver his prize.

(OOC to E'doa: Maev would be able to learn nothing of the fate of the ship or the prince, as the empress and her court know nothing. However, she might begin to glean that the empress and her family might, possibly, not be behind the attack. More soon!)

[E'doa A'nii]

So. Here was the man who had asked to be guided to a 'specific location in the mountains'; who had come to her for expertise; who had recieved instructions.... and brought a horse. A horse! She had said 'no horses.' Explicitly told him to do more then not bring them, he was to forget bringing them. As in perish the thought of us ever needing horses. They're so useless where we're going you might as well not even bother to even mention it.

Granted they had a ways to go till they got to the mountains, much less any 'specific' location. All the same no horses were to be brought along. Firstly there were enough miles between themselves and the mountain that a good walk would easily and gently strengthen the weakest memebers of the party. That was vital. Rosy wasn't about to be carrying anyone up a mountain. If you were too weak you could stay below. In short: Being on the mounatain involved a lot of stamina and endurance. Walking created both.

Secondly, stamina and endurance bred a high metabolism. One needed a high metabolism to stay warm. A high metabolism required food ,though. Lots of it. So that was were the wafers and dried meat came in. Both were light weight, easily carried and very filling. She hoped he thought to have brought at least that much. Two pounds could last one person a month. Supplemented with hunting from mountain game, wafers and jerky could last ages before rotting.

--Forest or no forest he needn't have brought the horse. Those animals were notorious for being easily spooked; they were terrible under heavy snowfall, and required a great deal of extra provisions and jerky did fine for the trail all the same.-- She wasn't about to ride the beats. Oh, she could do it; she hated riding horses. She hated carriages. She detested boats. In short, any form of transportation that did not require her own two feet as the primary method of propulsion caused Rosealyn a great deal of physical discomfort.

Thanks but no thanks. Melin could keep his horse.

He needn't know that though. She would use it as a pack animal for now. She would leave it in a stable in Gespalt somewhere where it would be happily looked after till Melin came for it. As for herself, once her mission was over she would head right back to her little mountain cabin on the steep slopes of Arithymas. She had not been out of her mountain more then one full day and already she wanted to be back on it. Fool beaurocrats and their inability to follow instructions.

If they hadn't wanted her advice, why did they ask for it?

As if she needed further proof of is inability to follow instructions, he was insisting on a night departure. At the late hour of nine. Well, he would get away with it now, but once they were in the mountains it would have to be dawn. To travel in snow at the dead of night was to risk death of the most foolish kind: Game was harder to hunt. Preditors roamed the mountains. Temperatures were well beyond anyone's capacity to stay warm. The only way to stay warm outside, at night, was to hope the snow was deep enough to burrow into, and wet enough to pack. That way it would hold up till their body heat turned the inner layer into a thin sheet of ice and made the burrow into a cave. And then, they would still have to go without a fire, and there would have to be sentries in pairs. If the party was too small, there would be no sleep. If the party was too big they would have to split up in sections, and have a double sentry with a pair outside the burrows. Since there would be no fire, the shifts would have to change more frequently and rest would be scarce.

Lovely.

Well, it would not be her fault if his own independence caused him grief.

-------------------------

Maev pulled the covers up over the pillow and proceeded to tuck the hem under the feather-down mattress. She hummed a little tune as she did so. To the observer she looked very absorbed in her work; long years of practice, however, had made the job more a habit then anything. Maev's mind was not on her task.

She was mentally composing a response to the letter she had received. Only it wasn't to be sent to her father; it was to be sent to her cousin Arthur. Arty, as he was so affectionately called in the letters was only one of the names she wrote him by. If the letter was written by, or sent to 'father' then it was about the king or the prince. If it was sent to or from 'Cousin Arty' it was information to be relayed. And anything relating to mother had to be the empress and her court.

So it was that after breakfast, Maev had her mistress pen a letter:

Dear Cousin Arty,

I am afraid that this letter does not contain good news. I think you had better sit down before you keep reading. My heart breaks to tell you that my dear father has been stranded at some unkown port and caught very ill. I am afraid he might die.

I do not think that mother is aware of his plight. I thought I should write you first and seek your advice on whether to tell her or not. Other then that bad news, I am glad to say that I am well and so is wolvgard. Mistress is very good to me, and I am happy here. Life is peaceful.

I await your response with much anticipation.

Yours ever,
Maev

The letter would be sent out with the evening post.

[Colonel Mustard]

Darius Ignat

It was four o’clock in the afternoon in Haven, and an old man had been murdered.

Darius Ignat looked at the shattered window through which the murderer had entered, the old man’s modest home and the his corpse, resting stiffly in its chair, chest crumpled by the blow of some hammer or mace. The room had been ransacked, the thief taking all he could before disappearing. It was an act of sickening cowardice.

And Darius knew. He knew where to find the culprit, one of the holes such a rat, or its friends would be skulking. He knew the inns, the dirty ones that attracted the scum of this town. It was like all the port towns he visited; filled with sailors, thieves and criminals. Darius hated it, but he knew that places like this were the frontline of his personal, hopeless crusade.

He spat out of the shattered window in disgust, before stepping out of the house.

He found the inn a few streets away. It was in one of the dirtier parts of Haven, where there sailors went once they got drunk, the part of town where the thieves and the prostitutes were. It was a dirty, dingy place poorly lit by tallow lamps.

Already the tavern was busy, its usual collection of scum already present. The barkeep looked up as Darius entered, and his eyes widened in alarm.

“What do you want?” he asked, nerves creeping into his voice as the rest of the tavern’s clientele suddenly became quiet and intensely interested in their drinks. Even though most of them had nothing to do with the crime Darius was investigating, the man could be indiscrimate as a hurricane.

“An old man was murdered in his house a few streets away,” Darius said, raising his voice. “I am here to find the murderer.”

There was quiet for a moment as Darius waited. In reality, those in the tavern could have gone against him and torn him to pieces, but the sheer force of his presence was enough to cow them. Sure, they could kill him easily, but the fact was that he could take two, maybe even three with them, and it could be them.

There. He saw it, a flicker of eye in his direction from one of the tavern’s customers. It was barely a movement at all, but it was enough. Darius could read body language like an expert when it came to guilt, and once he had the scent he was on it like a bloodhound.

Armoured boots clanking quietly on the taverns stone floor, Darius walked over to the person he had spotted and asked quietly; “Enjoying your drink?”

By now the tavern was so silent with terrified tension you could have heard a pin drop.

“Y-yeah,” the lanky haired youth stammered in reply. A stammer. A definite sign of nerves. But this teenager probably wasn’t the killer. He looked surly and poor, but not a murderer. Or at least probably not. Darius had seen some pretty unlikely candidates in his time.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Darius said. “Now, you look like you know something about that old man.”

“I don’t know nothing,” the boy replied automatically.

He yelped in terror as Darius’ gauntlet slammed down and grabbed the boy’s wrist.

“I think you do,” Darius said.

“Seriously, I dunno,” came the reply.

In an instant, Darius’ free hand was clenched around a finger. There was a swift motion, and a crack. The boy screamed and fell to the floor, clutching his broken finger. Darius leant down next to him, and said quietly; “I know you know something. Tell me now and it will be far easier on you.”

“Alright, alright,” the bow whimpered. “My mate James said he robbed a house. He lives in Randall Street, a rented place, third on the left. Please, let me go!”

Darius released his grip on the youth’s hand, before rising and leaving, murmuring his thanks for the barkeep’s time.

The man strode along the streets, looking for the place known as Randall Street. He found it quickly, a one way road, roughly cobbled, leading to what looked to be a square. Third on the left, third on the…there; a wooden house, a squat, single storey, single room place.

With a single kick, Darius smashed down the door, sending the flimsy, half rotten wood toppling to the ground. A young man, snoring on a dirty straw pallet sat bolt upright in fright. Darius grabbed him by the neck of his rough shirt, slamming him against the wall and looking him eye to eye.

“Are you James?” Darius growled.

“What? Yeah,” the boy whimpered.

“Did you break into a house last night?” Darius said.

“I did,” James replied, too scared to lie.

“Then you are under arrest for murder,” Darius replied, still keeping his voice at a low, steady snarl.

“What?” James said. “I just belted ‘im, I swear! I didn’t mean to kill ‘im, just shut ‘im up!”

“You stole, and you murdered,” Darius snarled. “You are under arrest.”

The boy protested, and suddenly tried to struggle, before Darius slammed him against the wall again, dazing him.

“You’re coming with me,” Darius said, bodily dragging him through door, nearly chocking him on the collar of his shirt.

As he walked through the streets, his charge stumbling dazedly along behind him, Darius made an announcement.

“People of Haven,” Darius said as he paraded the boy through the streets. “I have with a thief and a murderer.”

This caught attention, and suddenly everyone was looking.

“For simple greed,” Darius continued. “He broke into an old man’s house, killed him where he sat before taking all he could carry.”

There was a jeer from the crowd, and a gobbet of mud flew from the crowd to splatter onto James.

“This scum is the worst of criminals,” Darius said, still dragging the thief towards the town’s gaol. “And he must be punished!”

By the time he reached the gaol, a small mob was following him, baying for James’ blood. The pair of guards stationed at the gate looked at the mob Darius was leading and paled; they’d come to know Darius’ visits as a regular occurrence, and like professional musicians encountering an amateur far more enthusiastic then themselves, he made them uncomfortable.

“I’ve a thief and a murderer with me,” Darius said, shaking James roughly.

“Hang him!” a few members of the mob shouted.

The two guards looked at the mob, looked at Darius, who was standing with a faint, satisfied smile, before nodding and saying; “You’d better come in.”

[Ričle]

The enthusiastic arrests of the paladin Darius attracted attention in the court at Haven; though not of a positive kind. His recklessness and public boldness incited mobs and riots, and as often as not resulted in the inability of the law to prosecute the prisoners he brought for trial. So, when Darius arrived at the city jail with a mob at his heels, Darius himself was brought inside and bound by the city watch, and then held in a cell adjacent to the other prisoner.

City officials and Imlandris nobles discussed what to do with the errant paladin. He was not a healthy man, and all agreed that it was not in anyone's best interest, including Darius's, for him to continue arresting citizens of the city. But where could they send him that he might be a productive force, instead of a chaotic one? Who would take responsibility for him? No one had an answer. So he sat in one of Haven's jail cells for a day and a half, well-treated and much speculated over, while they mulled over their possible options.

Nat returned to his office after several hasty, final meetings with Lord Roupe and the captain of the warship. The afternoon was growing late, and Melin was still out in the city arranging their departure. A silver envelope lay on Nat's desk, with a crescent moon sketched upon the front. It caught his eye instantly, and Nat stared at it, pulling from his left coat pocket an identical envelope given to him by the king before he had departed Caelin Tal. "You will have help on your journey," king Halden had said. "Know that your path is always watched, and that powerful forces will come to aid you, when and if they are needed. Palamir's fate is important to more in this world than my own heart, and this kingdom's future. Look for this sign; by this will you know your allies." The king had revealed no more information, though Nat had pressed him. The envelope given to Nat by Halden contained the location of a meeting place in the wilderness that lay between Imlandris and Aranos, where they would be meeting someone who would help them. What guidance would this new message provide? Nat tore the envelope open.

The paladin, Darius, must accompany you to Aranos.

That was it? Nat turned the message over, thinking to find something more, but there was nothing. Without hesitation, he called a page into his office and sent the boy to fetch Melin. Why a paladin? Nat generally disliked paladins, for he had never met one with a lick of humility or common sense. But he forced this preconception aside, telling himself that he must trust in the king's guidance and in this unknown ally who was aiding them. If Nat must bring a paladin to Aranos in order to save the prince, then he would.

Time was growing short. Nat spent the next hour packing his saddlebags, and ensuring that all of the plans he had conceived were well-laid. Melin appeared as the sun was setting. Nat informed his fellow knight that a paladin named Darius was to accompany their party, and asked whether it might be possible to locate the man in the three hours before their departure.

Melin was overtly shocked, and the obvious consequence of such an addition to their party jumped out in his mind. Consequently, he burst out laughing. "Pardon my reaction, sir Nathan, but are you completely mad? A paladin? And of all of them, Darius?"

Nat was confused by Melin's reaction. "What's wrong? I realize a paladin is less than ideal, but surely it can't be that bad. Who is this Darius?"

Melin stilled his laughter as best he could. "It's just..." Melin thought how best to explain, and spoke seriously this time. "Darius, sir, is incorrigible, and a poor paladin at best, arresting men left and right and raising mobs in his shouts for justice. He isn't right in his mind. The thought of him together with a witch, sir, is ridiculous! He is likely to try to run her through if he learns what she is, and she's likely to skin him alive for his arrogance. We can't possibly keep them from killing each other!"

Nat closed his eyes for a moment, and sighed. He imagined a raving paladin attempting to arrest or perform his own justice on the witch, while she dangled him in midair and threatened to scalp him. A laugh escaped him, and the stress of the day rolled off his shoulders as he resigned himself to fate. "The gods really have cursed us, haven't they?" His eyes twinkled with amusement, and he shared a grin with Melin.

Melin, seeing in Nat's expression that bringing Darius had not been Nat's choice, but a necessity, considered an alternative. "Perhaps we can find another paladin? There are several in the city, much more reasonable men by reputation..."

"No," Nat's tone was confident; the message had clearly stated that Darius was the one they must bring. "This Darius is special somehow, and we need him. We will do what we can to prevent the inevitable; or, at least delay it for a little while. Speak with Hester before she meets the paladin, and ask her not to expound upon her adventures with the Meigian merchants within range of Darius' hearing. Perhaps it would also be wise to ask her not to kill him, at least until the prince is returned to Imlandris. I will speak with Darius as well." Nat nodded, and considered the matter settled. "Melin, you clearly know of this paladin, do you also know where we can find him at this hour?"

Melin grumbled a few disapproving words under his breath, but made no audible objection to a situation that he obviously could not change. "Yes," he answered grimly. "He's in the city jail. They locked him up two nights ago for causing another mob, but no one can decide what to do with him."

"Good," said Nat. "We'll fetch him on the way, and bring him to the meeting place with us tonight."

--------------------------

His lordship, the object of Maev's mistress's affections, appeared at their door the same evening that Maev received the message from Arthur. He bowed to her ladyship, and requested an audience with her on business of the empress's court. Maev, of course, was in attendance, along with several of his lordship's men. His lordship discussed at length with her ladyship the virtues of opportunity, and the importance of finding his own place in the future of the empire. He was a second cousin to the royal family, and he had been called upon to serve a member of the court. The request had suggested that he bring what loyal friends and family he had, and he had thought at once of her ladyship. His lordship asked, with much grace and eagerness, if her ladyship and her most loyal servant would be willing to accompany him eastward to the desert, for a time, and serve the empress's court at his side.

(OOC: In case that was confusing, they're not going -to- the empress's court, but serving a member of the court.)

--------------------------

(OOC: Arthur and Gav are waiting on a post from Xeilla)

Melin and Nat left the castle at Haven early that night, in secret. Nat slipped out a side entrance, dressed in traveling clothes unlike a style he would normally wear and hunched to appear much shorter. He was neither noticed nor followed, and as far as everyone in the castle believed he was leaving tomorrow morning on the warship in the harbor with the soldiers he had brought from Caelin Tal. Nat walked down the city streets in the dark, the cool night air allowing him to keep the hood of his cloak about his face. Not far from the castle lay an Inn with a stable, where Melin had stabled his horse. Nat quickly saddled his mount and headed to the south gate.

***

(OOC to Col Mustard: In the interest of moving things forward I'm assuming that Darius comes along, but if I make any poor assumptions please let me know and we'll figure out an edit that works better!)

Melin went to the city jail with orders from Lord Roupe to release the paladin, Darius, into the knight's custody. The paladin's hands were bound, and he was instructed by the members of the city watch to maintain complete silence once outside the jail or his mouth would be gagged. Melin greeted Darius politely when he met the man, and said that he was to escort the paladin out of the city at the request of Lord Roupe. He asked, rather than threatened, that the paladin remain quiet as they left, so as not to disturb the citizens of Haven so late at night. He also stated that the paladin was to be freed and the situation fully explained to him once he was outside the city gates. If Darius was amenable to the arrangement he was to come with Melin, if not he was to remain in the cell until they could find another solution.

They rode on horseback, for Melin had brought Darius a horse with full saddlebags behind its saddle, though Darius's horse was roped to Melin's. They did not quite leave the city, and instead met Nathan near the southern gate. Melin and Nat had agreed that if Nat retrieved Darius from the jail it might arouse suspicions of his leaving the city, which they had endeavored to keep secret, and so Melin left Darius with Nat and went to find Lacchi and Hester.

Nat took Darius's horse's lead and tied it to his own saddle, and together they road out the city's southern gate. Oddly, no one was watching the road from atop the gate, and the area was completely quiet. They rode until they were a ways outside the city, and then Nat halted and untied Darius's bonds.

"Darius," he said, considering his words most carefully. "I am Sir Nathan. Sir Melin and I are Knights of Caelin, and we are on a mission for the king. Please forgive the manner in which we removed you from the city, but our purpose is a secret one, and it was necessary to present our request of you in haste and in private. It is true that you are free and may now go which way you choose, though Lord Roupe and his court ask that you do not return to the city. You have caused them much trouble here, creating much chaos and hindering the city watch from conducting their duties. But I do not mean to diminish your intent, which is an honorable one, especially as we need your help. Imlandris is under threat, and we are leaving now on a mission to Aranos on orders from the king. I was told that the paladin Darius was essential to our cause, though for what reason I do not know. But I believe that at some time on our journey we will need your help most urgently, and so I ask that you accompany us to Aranos. I ride now to meet the rest of our party, and once we are together I will explain the full nature of our mission. What say you, paladin; will you come with me and serve your king for the good of Imlandris?"

----------------------------

Once Sir Melin had delivered Darius to Nathan he returned to the castle. He left his horse tied outside the stable and went inside the kitchens, where he found Lacchi in the care of the castle's cooks. He patted the dog fondly and scratched his belly. "Are you ready, friend? The Knights of Caelin need a dog to serve them, and they tell us you're the best. Our group is waiting, and we leave tonight. Come on, then, let's be off!" Melin indicated enthusiastically for Lacchi to follow, and led the dog out into the courtyard. Lacchi seemed to be an intelligent dog, and Melin was pleased that he did not need the leash he had brought. He mounted his horse and led the way through the city streets to the house where Hester stayed.

"Hester," he said, greeting the witch with a short bow. He saddled her horse for her, and helped her mount it. The horse they'd chosen for the witch was mellow and smart, and it followed Melin's mount easily through the city streets. "I am glad your are coming with us, Hester," he said, as they rode. "But I must tell you before we meet the others, that some amongst are party are likely to be especially unfriendly to witches. If they knew your history, I am certain they would try to kill you. I and my companion will do what we can to prevent this from happening, and I've no doubt that you can defend yourself effectively, but I would encourage you not to speak too boldly of your nature and your history. And, if you would..." Melin hesitated, unsure how to phrase his words. "Please don't kill them." He flashed a wry smile at Hester. "You can consider it a personal favor to me, if you like. Once which I will do my best to repay. But the kingdom needs everyone among us, whether they are self-righteous assess, defiant maidens, or a murdering witch." Again, he was smiling.

(OOC: Ok, please reply! You can assume, if you like, that we continue on to the meeting place south of the city. Rose will meet us there.)

[Old Hester]

Housebound for five days, three of which were spent wrapped up in bed, Old Mother Hester could do little but stare at the panelled ceiling over head. She spent the entire time locked up inside her own mind, replaying the events out on the Troll Country, cursing the bewitched blue ribbon which had caught her unawares, and damning the merchants who dragged her across the world to be strung up.

Now things had gone from bad to worse. In return for life she’d been enlisted into some escapade, one which would probably end with her death anyway. Would she ever get home? Her thoughts drifted to the Marionette. She saw it watching the open sky of home with its endless obsidian eyes. Something like guilt squirmed in her stomach. She crinkled her nose and forced it out. Pah!

The house which Melin had bound her to was owned by a bassoon player and his wife. Each morning Hester would wake to the deep moans of a bassoon reverberating through the floor. “Damn you Melin.” She glared at the ceiling, the poor thing suffering in the knight’s place.

Pies. That’s what the wife did. Breakfast, lunch, supper, elevenses; for every damn meal invented she would appear in Hester’s doorframe holding a fresh pie. At first Hester had managed to dump them into the locker at her bedside but then the smell began arousing the wife’s suspicions. On the fourth morning Hester finally moved from the bed, finding her stiff old limbs were all the better for it. She opening the bedroom window and with great huffing and puffing managed to shift the locker out, along with its contents of pies. Hester heard the crash of wood on the street below. She didn’t bother looking, instead climbing back into bed. If the bassoon player or his wife knew they never mentioned it to the churlish old dwarf.

On the fifth night the bassoon player and his wife wouldn’t allow her to rest knowing that Melin would be arriving to collect her. She was sitting by the hearth in a large armchair, gazing into its red belly and glowering at the incessant chatter of her hosts behind her. The bassoon players voice may as well as been his instrument; it was so deep, like listening to someone speak into a large pot. Her lips twisted into a snarl. Her conviction that Melin had sent her here on purpose was growing stronger.

“A pie Old Mother?” The wife peered round the chair at Hester. Hester’s eyes flicked and met hers.

There was a soft rap on the door. “Oh he’s here!” The wife disappeared before Hester could catch her with the full force of her eyes. Damn Melin. She slipped from the chair and lumbered out into the hall, where the door was guarded by her hosts, both grinning down warmly at her.

“It was lovely to have you Old Mother.” The wife smiled and held out a brown paper bag. It smelt suspiciously of pie. Hester accepted the departing gift reluctantly. The bassoon player held out a carpet bag to Melin, another gift from themselves. “Goodbye now, Old Mother,” he boomed, and nodded in a bow. She ignored him and stepped out into the cool night. The bassoon player and his wife closed the door behind her, a little too quickly for Hester’s liking.

“Hester,” Melin said, greeting her with a short bow. She held up her finger in a gesture for silence. She took the carpet bag down from her mount where Melin had sat it, and tipped its contents out onto the doorstep of the house. Out tumbled a cloud of fresh clothes, all in children’s sizes that the wife had bought for Hester one morning. She was about to dump the bag too but reconsidered, taking a liking to its funny floral patterns. Then she took the brown paper bag and opened it. She wretched at the smell of cooked pie which collided with her nose. She reached in and pulled out two large pies, one steak and one chicken. They were about to suffer the same treatment when she saw the dog that accompanied Melin and the horses.

“Who’s that?” Melin explained Lacchi and Hester raised an eyebrow. She shrugged it off and tossed both the pies onto the doorstep. “Well, it doesn’t look like the pie eating type. And even if you are,” she looked at the dog, “They taste like tree bark. The nasty kind.” With that she allowed Melin to help her mount her horse, making sure to kick him as much as possible as he did.

"I am glad your are coming with us, Hester," he said, as they rode.

“Well that makes one of us,” she muttered darkly out of earshot.

She listened to him and watched him smile as though the entire thing was a joke. It’d better not be. She flexed her hands around the horses reigns, substituting them for Melin’s neck.

“Who ever said anything about me being a witch?” She chuckled loudly, the hideous sound jumping back off the walls of the narrow street. There were a dozen Old Mother Hester’s all at once. “You listened to those merchant’s too much Melin. I ain’t never killed nobody. Cross. My. Heart.” She leaned off the mount towards Melin, dragging a large X over her heart with one long fingernail. She slid back into the saddle and cackled.

“There’s a first time for everything though.” She grinned wickedly at Melin, revealing rows of crooked, sharpened teeth.

They had left the city now, trotting towards a small silhouetted group beneath the moon. She sighed aloud. This is it. The beginning of never making it home.

[Ether's Rose]

Veyana le Fay was moving through the city aimlessly, looking for something to occupy her curiosity when a man moving quickly, and with purpose passed her by. Veyana smiled happily and ducked into an alley, only to emerge a few moments later as a brightly colored bird, taking wing. She followed the man as he went about the city.

What on earth could be this man's purpose, to go to so many places? Veyana knew he was a Knight, that much was easy to tell just by looking. So was it King's business then? Veyana wondered. She supposed she could ask him, but she doubted that she'd get a straight answer. So, for the moment, she kept her winged form, and spied on him as he went about his odd business.

Things got odder when a paladin joined him, bound for some reason. Veyana had seen this one before. A rabble-raiser in town. So where was the Knight taking him? She watched on, chirping curiously in her bird-form.

He was given to another Knight, and then exited the city. Veyana flew as close as she dared, and used a tiny amount of wind magic to keep herself gliding, so that the beating of her wings wouldn't cause noise. It would be just a little odd for such an obvious day-time bird to be flying at night.

Sir Nathan...and Sir Melin. That was the one she had been following. And it was king's business! She had to keep herself from a victory chirp. The words about the mission, whatever it was, intrigued Veyana. She wondered how far away this meeting place was, and who else was going to be there. She was practically overflowing with curiosity.