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DerynifanK

March 17, 2024, 03:48:44 PM
Happy St Patrick's Day. Enjoy the one day of the year when the whole world is Irish.

Ghosts of the Past

Started by Bynw, November 21, 2017, 09:26:09 AM

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Laurna

Sir Washburn sat back on his heels breathing harder than he thought he aught. It wasn't from physical exertion that had him catching his breath. "May the essence of Air, Fire, Water, Earth— and the Spirit ever come together in places of time and need to squelch evil from where ever it appears on this Earth," Washburn whispered to finish off the last of his counter-spell.

He held the dagger up before his eyes like that of a cross. The light that had infused the steel just moments before he struck it's tip to the pouch fabric and the heart of gem that it held within was now fading away to the dull sheen of a normal blade.

His hand shook just a little as he placed the blade on the ground. He bowed his head in thanks to the Spirites of the Earth and then looked up at the others with a fresh smile. "Thank you," he said to all. "Thank you," he said directly to Father Columcil.
May your horses have wings and fly!

Jerusha

Darcy Cameron dropped to his knees much harder than he intended to.  Sweet Jesu he was tired; he had stood full night watches in storms and not felt this spent afterwards.  He saw the look of concern in Lord Alister's eyes, but shook his head slightly to indicate that he would be fine.  He had had enough of magic for now.

He had no doubt that what he had seen and experienced in the last while had been serious magic. Deadly magic perhaps, given the power he had felt when the amulet was destroyed by Sir Washburn's dagger.  He did not want to think about what would have been unleased if they had failed.  They?  He doubted his own contribution had been very much, yet Sir Washburn had thanked him along with the others.

He could use a nap and a full jug of ale, not necessarily in that order.  He started when Sir Washburn tapped him gently on the shoulder.  Surely, he had not dosed off while the priest had been praying!

"We dare not tarry here," the Deryni knight said.  "Whoever it was that owned the amulet knows we have destroyed it.  He will act quickly."

Darcy rose slowly to his feet. "Aye," he agreed, "and he won't act nicely, I'll wager."
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#122
His hand tapped the dirt back into place. The tattered pouch with the shards of the blue gem lay neatly buried some two feet below.  He hoped that was deep enough. There had been a moment of suggestion that the shards of the crystal be scattered in the river's bottom. It had been Lord Alister's harsh laugh, "Let's not kill all the local fish from the river!" After which Wash had began to dig his small hole. Father Columcil's observances of Mass finished at about the same time. Each of the companions came to him with a bent knee to receive the Host. The mood of the small group seemed to lighten considerably after that. They had been through much in the past two days. A fellowship was growing where yesterday there had been none.

The silver mist of the ward disbanded from over their heads. Almost instinctively Wash cast outward for anyone with malicious intent nearby.

((2d6 3&3 failed. Verification Number: 1v4gjb61wk)) He must have been more tired than he thought. He could not tell if anyone was near at hand. 

His hand rested upon his horse's shoulder. ((Is the horse nervous? 1d6 roll of 1-3 yes, roll of 4-6 he is calm.  Rolled 3 Verification Number: 7flj15s6rh)) His destrier was tense, the black's ears pinned forward, his eyes locked on something unseen by the men in the trees near the river's edge.

Alister!  Wash send with Mind Speech to get the lady's attention. My powers fail me. Cast outward. Is it man or beast beyond the trees?

His sword had already found its way into his hand. He was likely jumping at shadows. The face from the Saint Camber's medallion may have knowledge where they were but could he have gotten one of his minions to them this quickly? He doubted that, yet a man prepared lives far longer than one taken by surprise.
May your horses have wings and fly!

revanne

#123
Somewhat to Sir Washburn's surprise he felt a hand upon his shoulder and he could barely surpress a start such was his level of tension.

"Sorry, Son," came a hushed voice with a border burr. "I didna mean to startle ye like that."

Columcil supposed that he should revert to more formal language now that the Sacrament was ended but it was a mark of their closer fellowship that the more pastoral address had come so readily. However it was best not to presume so he bowed his head in a slight reverence before continuing, "Would you let me calm this fine lad, My Lord? It's a skill that I have with beasts." Barely waiting for Sir Washburn's nod of agreement, as the latter remembered how the priest had been able to lead horses from the burning stable back in Culdi when they first met, Columcil took the horse's head between his hands and looked into the fearful beast's eyes. The destrier's tension eased but the same could not be said for the young lord whose knuckles were white as he gripped his sword.

"Can you sense anything, My Lord?", asked Columcil but he was startled to see a look of something akin to embarassment cross his face. "I'm sorry Father but dealing with that cursed amulet has left me drained of power." Columcil chided himself for a fool and replied gently. "No, My Lord, 'tis me who should be sorry for asking ye after what you have just done to save us. It's over late for me to hide who I am (or at least that I am Deryni he added mentally) - maybe I can sense if there is anyone out there."

He began to carefully extend his senses only to realise that his powers too were drained. ( 4+4 = 8 1j5xrhqm10 ((It's those dice again))) That thing must have been evil indeed to take all their strengths and he blessed heaven for the help they had surely received in destroying it. It was his turn to look shame-faced and he said quietly. "I'm sorry My Lord, it's drained you and me both, it seems. I hope that Lord Alister is in better shape."
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
(Psalm 46 v1)

Jerusha

Darcy Cameron stretched to one side and felt a satisfying crack to his spine.  The tiredness persisted, but he was beginning to recover, at least slightly.  He noted the conversation between Father Columcil and Sir Washburn.    They seemed to be concerned about something.

Darcy looked around.  Only the bare earth gave sign of the evil shards that were buried by Sir Washburn.  Lord Alister stood a little apart, whether deep in thought or gathering his own strength, Darcy could not tell.

The sun slanted through the trees; it was growing late.  He saw the flash of light, reflected off of something metal, saw the path a projectile could take....

"Bloody hell!"  Darcy took off running, launched himself at Sir Washburn.

((dice roll, 1 die, 3  verification 6k9xzpfn7q, crap)

Darcy caught Washburn square in his midriff, throwing him backward, but not enough to move him completely from the crossbow bolt's path.  The bolt tore through the knight's shoulder, forcing a yelp of pain.  Both men fell to the ground, entangled, and strove to rise.

A man darted from the trees, dagger in hand, heading straight for Alister.

But Father Columcil had his staff in hand....
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#125
((1-3 right shoulder injury or 4-6 left shoulder injury, unless someone else writes about it before I get to post again. Results  2 Verification Number: 4dj1xxdzz2. That's not good, I should have guessed with my bad luck at the higher numbered dice and reversed the sides. ))

Wash only knew as he was shoved down to the ground that his hand could no longer retain its grasp around the hilt of his sword. It took an instant to register why. The pain was instant, numbing after the first thrust.The tackle to the ground was more surprising. Knowing it had likely saved his life was little compensation for the knowledge his companions were being attacked. "Aliset!" he yelled, disperate to wake her from the self imposed trance he now saw that she was in. The Camber Medallion palmed in both hands before the eyes that were those of her brother's. She knew not her own danger.

Columcil's staff raised in defense. He attacked the man, blocking him, yet not stopping the dagger that launched from the enemy's hand, which flew toward Aliset's heart.

(( Telekinesis (Deryni): Moving without moving You can move small options just by thinking about it. You must have eye contact with the object and make a standard 2d6 Test.
Focus: This gives you a success on your next attack roll if you get 4 or above.
Hero point: You succeed on any Test with a roll of 4 or greater. Or if the success is already at that level it succeeds at the next lower pip, in this case a 3,4,5,or 6 to Push the dagger with his mind away from everyone.
Roll 2d6 1 & 3 Verification Number: 5ch5xg61rf   Success!  Thank you Hero Point!))

Seconds passed like hours: The dagger flew through the air like a slow moving bird. Washburn saw its shine in the afternoon sun. It's silver rays gleaming in his eyes like the flair of a firefly. He focused on it, he focused down hard, taking his soul into the light of the steel. Using the spirit of his family, the spirit of his birth, the spirit of generations of men before him, good men, who had done great deeds. This one deed he would do: his mind locked on the thing that flew straight toward his friend's sister. He owed Alister that. It would not harm her! It would not cause her hurt! It would not hurt anyone!

The dagger broke from its trajectory. It twisted in the air. Its speed taking it away, throwing it far from the target it had intended to kill! It sunk, giving off the sound of a deep twang, uselessly into the trunk of a tree well beyond anyone's reach!
May your horses have wings and fly!

Evie

The unexpected sound of vibrating metal and the knight's shouting broke through Aliset's trance, alerting her to danger. Her eyes snapped open as she whirled to face the source of the attack she now sensed nearby, one hand reaching for the dagger at her waist.

If someone was close enough to attempt to spear her with a thrown dagger, he was close enough for her to try to do the same. Reaching out with her senses, she focused in on the threat before her.  Concentrating the full force of her will on hitting her target, she aimed and threw.

((rolled 3d6 because dagger is her weapon of mastery, but got 3, 2, and 2, which not even a hero point can save.  Verification # 46s4b8hjdr.  Much weeping and gnashing of teeth, not to mention unladylike language inserted here.))

Despite Aliset's fierce concentration, her foe managed to dodge the flying missile at the last moment, much to her consternation.  Alarmed at the loss of her weapon, she instinctively drew upon her powers to reach out for it, mentally willing her dagger to fly back into her outstretched hand.

((2d6, 2 and 5, v#2jsqjqjk48.  Phew! Lucky save!  And I guess that counts as my two permitted actions for this round.  And now I'm off again for a girls' night out, so see y'all tomorrow.))
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Jerusha

Darcy Cameron hit the ground as hard as his target.  The crossbow bolt had found its mark but not the deadly one that had been the original intent.  A small victory, but Darcy cursed himself for not being able to knock Sir Washburn completely clear.  No help for it now.  Darcy rolled, launched himself upward and drew his sword. 

He checked at the look of intense concentration on Sir Washburn's face.  Sweat beaded the knight's face as he concentrated on the path of the dagger in its swift flight toward Lord Alister. Darcy's every instinct told him to leap forward into the dagger's path, but there was not enough time, and the dagger's aim was true.  Somehow, without realizing how, he understood what Washburn was trying to accomplish.  So he stood ready and watched the dagger falter, deflect, and anchor itself in a tree far beyond Lord Alister.

Their foe managed to dodge the dagger Lord Alister threw toward him and ran back toward cover.  Darcy charged after him, checking his headlong rush barely in time to avoid the dagger that flew back to Lord Alister's hand.  The few seconds had cost him the chance to overcome the man quickly, and who know what ambush might lie ahead?  Sir Washburn was wounded and needed their attention.

"Bloody hell," was all Darcy could think to say as he turned away from his pursuit.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#128
Still deep in trance Washburn moved his mind from the action around him to seek out the Culdi Highland Road and discover whether their attacker was alone.

((2d6 Focus Roll a 4,5,or 6 to see if he can sense others. Rolled 3&4 success Verification Number: 4768x8j26w))

((1d6 roll to see if there were any other enemy nearby. 1-3=Yes, 4-6=No. Rolled 3 Yes there are others Verification Number: 2q7mv8fw4b))

((1d6 how many more enemy: 1or2=3, 3or4=2, 5or6=1, rolled 5 that is one other enemy detected. That is good news at least.))

(1d6 1 point for every 100 yards away the second enemy is. Rolled 2 Verification Number: 45zkr58pnz  that's 200 yards away down the road. Oh Dear! There are still some of those two dice in the dice roller. Can someone please remove them.))

The downed knight woke himself from his trance with a fierce need. The pain in his shoulder seared as he tried to stand.  There was a hand there to stop him, but he shook it off. "We have to ride. Our attacker is not alone! There is another with him. He is on the hilltop, north. He could be in bow range if we don't move! Now!"

Adding action to his words, he grabbed the hilt of his fallen sword with his left hand. Burying the tip in the dirt, he used it to help himself stand. A harsh grunt escaped his lips from the effort and again from the steps it took to reach his horse. He undid the reins that were loosely tied to a tree. He took them in his left hand, threw the far rein over the horse's head, grabbed a handful of the black's long mane and leaped upward swinging his right leg up over the horse's back. It was a momentary scramble. He made it, but the effort left him breathless, lying against the destrier's neck.  That position allowed him to step his horse over to the standing sword and to pull it forth from the ground.

"We have to ride!" he shouted again to the others who had delayed to watch him and who only then were finding their own mounts. "Ride!" he yelled as he spurred his horse through the creek, over the far bank, and up onto the road. He looked north, saw not far up the hill a man break from the trees. A second man raced down the hill riding one horse and guiding a second. It would only be moments before the two enemy would meet, before their attacker would have a horse under him and the two would be chasing them down. His fellowship was in danger! There was nothing for it but to run. Without his sword arm, he was useless in a fight. With cross bolts in the enemy's hands they would never get close enough for that fight, anyway.  As  his friends came on to the road, Wash kicked his horse to a canter and then to a gallop, racing south.  At this pace, his chain-mail shirt jarred against the crossbow bolt which stuck out from his shoulder with every hoof that pounded the road. 
May your horses have wings and fly!

Evie

Aliset leaped into the saddle, glancing around to see her companions doing the same. Spurring her mount on to follow Sir Washburn's, she reached out with her senses, trying to establish how badly injured the knight leading their party was. A wave of roiling pain met her psychic inquiry and she withdrew her mental touch, concentrating on moving her horse closer to his flank. Signaling the priest to do the same on his other side, she caught Darcy's eye. Waving him on, she yelled, "Ride on ahead of Sir Washburn, but not too far ahead, and keep a sharp look out for any possible ambushes in wait for us.  We need to tend to his injuries, but it's far too dangerous for us to do so here."  Thinking fast, she tried to recall what sanctuaries might be found in this part of Meara.  Ah, there was one possibility that came to mind--the Abbey of St. Brigid!  She did not like the thought of putting the convent at risk, but on the other hand, there had been such backlash from the local population at the atrocities that had been committed there by Mearan separatists of the previous generation that she suspected Oswald's--or the mysterious Deryni's--hired men would not risk provoking the wrath of a populace they hoped to win over to their side of the conflict between those loyal to the Mearan separatist cause and the Kingdom of Gwynedd.  And if they could reach the abbey's gates alive, they would be nearly at Gwynedd's border, and even closer to safety. One might hope, anyway, though deep down Aliset knew better than to think their pursuers would leave them alone once they exchanged their mountain trail for the Gwyneddan hills and plains.

"To Saint Brigid's!" she called out to her companions, though not so loudly that their pursuers might hear their plan and find some way to detour around them and block their progress towards that refuge.  Beside and slightly ahead of her, Sir Washburn seemed to nod in agreement. At least she hoped it was agreement and not a sign he was near to losing consciousness.  Raising one hand to clutch her medallion of Saint Camber, she prayed that they would make it to the safety of the abbey before the knight from Corwyn lost too much blood, and that Father Columcil would be recovered enough from their efforts at destroying the amulet to use his gift of Healing.  Or failing that, that the convent infirmarian would be able to provide Wash with the assistance he needed.

"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Jerusha

Darcy Cameron urged his horse forward, past Sir Washburn, continuing forward until he was four horse lengths ahead of his companions.  Far enough ahead to spot anything amiss and be able to warn the others, or far enough ahead that if he sprung a trap himself, they could see it in time to pull up and take shelter.  Though at this pace, it would be difficult. He did not find the thought comforting.

His could not shake the belief that they were being herded forward.  He strained every one of his senses to pick up anything that seemed wrong.  How far ahead was Saint Brigid's? Could they reach the convent's shelter before Sir Washburn could no longer ride? 

(Dice roll, Survivalist, advantage when seeking shelter.  3 dice:  1 + 2 +4 =7.  Sheesh, can't one of us get a break?)

Darcy's horse stumbled, nearly taking them both to the ground.  The mare recovered, but Darcy had no choice but to stop.  He dismounted and checked her for injury.

"How bad is it?"  Father Columcil asked they pulled up behind him.

"It could be worse," Darcy said glumly.  "Her shoe is loose; if I try to keep up this pace, she'll fall and break a leg for sure.  You go ahead.  I'll keep up as best I can and try to keep our pursuers off your backs."
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Evie

Aliset hesitated. She was their pursuers' main quarry; if they managed to catch up with her, perhaps they'd let her injured companion go free.  At any rate, she couldn't leave her man-at-arms behind. Or at least she would not, even though she could.

Glancing over at Father Columcil, who was taking note of the situation with grave concern, she told him, "Go on ahead with Sir Washburn and inform the abbey of our situation. They might be able to send aid, and if nothing else, they certainly ought to have a bed in their infirmarium where you can turn to Sir Washburn's injury. I'll remain here with Master Darcy to slow down our pursuers."  Wheeling her horse around, she drew her horse up alongside Darcy's, facing the direction they had come from with a grim smile, one hand upon her dagger.  "They'll not take us down without a fight."
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Laurna

#132
In anguish and frustration, Wash circled his horse around his friends, guiding the beast with his knees. He growled as his left hand touched the barb embedded in his shoulder, wishing he could rip the thing out of his body. The brief effort made him dizzy with pain and he growled again.

"You'll have no chance against those crossbows." He gasped, coming around to face Aliset. "If you must do this, than take to the trees. Before they come around that bend and see you.  Chance might be that they will follow us and never know you are not ahead of me. Don't-" he gasped-"don't risk a fight unless there is no other way." His bloody hand grabbed up his reins "Quick before they see!"

"Saint Camber save her, don't let her be caught or injured by such evil men." He managed to whisper. "I would rather be dead than see harm befall her." his prayer was said to himself, but his words may have been loud enough that they may have been heard. 

"Columcil, run ahead of me! I will draw their attention when they come around the bend," Wash stepped his horse ten feet back into the middle of the road. He lay down across his horse's neck. It wasn't all an act. He knew it, but hoped his friends believed it to be. When the two pursuers came on, he would taunt them into following him. With hope they would not know Darcy and Aliset were left behind.
May your horses have wings and fly!

revanne

#133
Columcil had been trained to obedience to authority by his days in seminary but it was not natural to him and nor was the idea of leaving an injured man when he could offer aid. "Let me heal you first, My Lord", he begged in a voice rough with worry. ((4+1=5 69krtl6mbf aargh!!)).

Mingled pain and frustration were in the look that Sir Washburn gave him, "There is no time, and we dare not risk rapport or a healing trance out in the open here. The devil will be on our heels soon, for the love of God please go!" Reluctantly Columcil saw the sense in the words, he bowed his head in acceptance, then turned and kicked his mount onwards.

The track curved around a bend and ahead he could see the beginnings of a small town. But there was no sign of a Convent this side of the town walls, which were new by the look of them, strong and sturdy with a solid looking gatehouse. All a bit much for a little town, surely, and betokening a history of violence in these parts.

Dare he ask for help or did he risk bringing more trouble on his companions. Well there was no help for it, he had to try; perhaps he could think of a story that would endanger only himself until he was sure of the nature of his welcome.

The thickets to the edge of the path had been cleared to a bowshot's distance as he neared within what he reckoned was less than half a league from the town but, his senses on edge, he thought he heard a rustle at the edge of the grass to his left. Pulling his mountain pony to a sudden stop he dismounted and swung the staff from his back, slamming it down from where he thought the rustling had come. There was a squeal and a half-grown wild boar shot out, blessedly too startled to turn and attack and shot into the deeper woodland. ((4+2 =6  7hs&zc2l6d - I forgot that Columcil could roll advantage for weapon's mastery - the best thing seemed to be to make him waste an effort. He is as irritated as I am))

Thoroughly annoyed with himself he remounted and hurried on towards the town.

((Modified as I hadn't intended to make Wash appear dictatorial))
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
(Psalm 46 v1)

Evie

There was no time to lose. It seemed clear to Aliset that Sir Washburn was in no shape to deal with the enemies closing in behind them, yet she refused to leave Master Darcy behind to deal with them alone either.

An idea came to her, and she brought her horse alongside Darcy's.  "Quickly, mount up behind me!  We are still near enough to the village, and perhaps even the abbey, to make it to the safety of those walls if we can ride swiftly, but as your horse is not up to that, our best bet is to let him follow along behind us as best he can. Our pursuers are under orders to stop us; I doubt they'll veer from their pursuit to capture a lame horse, so hopefully we'll be able to recover him once it's safe to do so."
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!