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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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Jerusha

(( Your luck has been much better than mine at the dice.  I'll leave it to you.  ;)))
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#196
It was a bit unnerving to see the town gates open, allowing all manor of folk to enter and leave as they desired. The guards were attentive, waving through the locals that they knew, questioning the drivers of carts which were stacked with goods, giving warnings to young men who on other days had been the cause for trouble, but generally, they turned no one away. It was market day. The town relied on the trade of goods to stay independent of the political currents.

Washburn walked the square  wondering if he had been noticed with so much else going on. He entered the gate house, that room which had been the center of last evening's ordeal.  The room had been cleaned, the floor spotless, his belongings missing: the Lendour tunic gone, his chain-mail gone. He turned to leave when the guard captain entered behind him. At least someone was paying attention. Washburn thought.

"My lord, you should have come to see me first," the captain declared.

"Aye. I was on may way to do so," Wash replied casually. "I have questions for your prisoner. Have you learned anything from him?"

"Not anything that you wanted to hear. Tomas, doesn't seem to know too much."

"No? Certainly, he has told you why he and three others were determined to kill me, and why they marked a good man like Kieran with such zeal?"

"Poor Kieran, he was a good man. A man most loyal to the nunnery and to the kingdom. Just hearing you were a Morgan set his pride on the line. That line got him killed." There was anger in the captain's words.

Wash nodded in understanding. "He was your friend."

"He was." The captain's stern glare challenged Wash.

"I owe him my life; a debt I can not repay in full today, but one that I will not forget." Wash sighed. "Will you take me to see Tomas?"

"I already told you he has little to tell. He and those other three were bully's, trouble makers in these parts. Hassled the merchants for protection fees. The town guards did their best to keep them controlled, still those boys were known to beat up a man or two who did not pay.  This is the first I heard of them killing."

"Oh, they didn't seem strangers to the notion, if you ask me," claimed the knight.

The captain grimaced at that. After a moment, he seemed to have made up his mind. He waved Wash out the room. "Follow me." He lead Sir Washburn to the barracks and down into the dungeon. Tomas was chained to the wall. He looked like he had gotten a beating since last Wash had seen him. An uncivilized brutal form of interrogation. Wash considered his Deryni methods far less barbarian, though he knew few humans would think so.

"May I question your prisoner?" Wash asked, knowing that what he asked may be difficult for any human to accept. "I need to know what he knows."

The captain's fists clenched and released. "His soul isn't for you to steel. He must face God to earn his judgment. Not  be condemned by your mere touch before he can get there."

Wash took a deep breath and steadied his ire. Here on the border's of Meara, the old ideals of fear of his race, had not fully given way to tolerance and knowledge.

"I don't have the means or the time to convince you that my abilities are not evil. Seeking the truth is far from evil, in my book. I will Truth read the man, for I want justice for Kieran, as I am certain that you do too."

The captain said nothing but he did step back a pace to allow Wash to move within arms reach of the prisoner. The young man looked up with a determined arrogance, which disappeared with a single touch of the knight's finger upon his forehead. Wash hadn't the need to do that, yet sometimes for the captain's sake, it was better to make it look like such a touch was necessary.

((02:20 laurna Wash Truthreading Tomas.
02:20 laurna !roll 1d6
02:20 derynibot 5 == 5))

"Tomas who ordered you to kill me?"

"Kyle," the man answered. 

The captain's eyes rolled. "Kyle's dead, he's the one who killed Kieran."

"How did Kyle get his orders?"

"Phyer made the order for Kyle to kill you."

Wash looked over at the captain, but the man had no idea who Phyer was.

"Tell me about Phyer, who is he?"

Tomas squirmed under Washburn's touch. There was a trigger there, one placed by a Deryni.

Before the trigger could released, Wash had both his hands over the man's eyes; he delved deep for that block.

((02:36 laurna Wash overpowering a trigger in the prisoner
02:37 laurna !roll 1d6
02:37 derynibot 4 == 4))

Wash found the trigger, it was sloppily placed. He removed it, freeing up the memories of a man named Phyer. It was a code name. Phyer had contacted Kyle only a few months before. They had done odd jobs for him. Mostly brutalizing the citizens who were most loyal to Gwynedd. Leaving those who were Mearan born alone. Tomas had never seen Phyer's face. He had heard his voice often enough from a man behind a brown cowl. Wash placed the memory of that voice in his mind. If he heard it he was certain he would recognize it. There was little else that Tomas could show him. Wash released the prisoner, who looked at him wide eyed. 

"That man Phyer, would have seen you dead," the Corwyn knight said. "Be glad I just released you from his influence, you may yet live another day."

"To see the hangman's gallows," the captain decreed.

Returning back to the main floor of the barracks, Wash was intercepted by a lanky fellow carrying a shirt of chain-mail. His chain-mail; he recognized it by the buckles. "My lord," the man bowed. "By orders of the captain, I spent the night mending the rents in the links. It is whole and ready to be worn again."

A smile passed the knight's lips as he handled the mail, all signs of damage removed. "You have a talented gift, my friend. I thank you." He was quick to pass two gold coins over to the man. Wash left the barracks with a word that he would make a prayer at the Church for the departed guard's soul.

True to his word, the knight was soon kneeling in prayer beside the pall that Guardsman Keiran laid upon. If this man had not opened the gates when he had, Wash may very likely be dead.  Keiran had also helped in his healing and his prayers reflected his thankfulness to the soul of such a good man. He had two coins in his hand as he stood to leave, he had meant to give them to the priest for the widow. But it was the widow who caught his eye as she sat very quietly off to the side, her head draped in black, a youth was seated beside her.  Wash waved the boy over.  The boy of twelve or so came forward, bending a knee to the tall lord. "How do you know this man?" Wash asked.

"He is my father," the boy said proudly.

"Aye, then, I will tell you that your father was a great man. He was loyal and honorable. I want you to be proud of him. I want you to know that he died in his duty, serving his king. I will tell King Kelson what your father has done. And his name will be spoken well of at court. If the day comes that you want to serve the king like your father did, you can come to Rhemuth, speak his name to the captain of the guard, and he will see that you get the training that you seek." He took the two gold coins he was holding and placed them in the boy's hand. "Give these to your mother and thank her for me." The boy was wide eyed for a moment.  He bowed and then scurried back to his mother. Wash gave her a respectful node, and then he left the church.

He had one last duty to make this morning. He walked back up to the convent. Gaining entrance from Simon, he asked the nun who came to greet him for a private moment with the abbess.
May your horses have wings and fly!

Jerusha

Darcy Cameron looked around the town square at the crowded market stalls.  At this hour, activity was at its height.  No one seemed to take note of their presence, but if someone watched from the shadows or a nearby building, he could not tell.

"My Lady," he said quietly to the woman beside him.  "Father Columcil said he would head back to the Nunnery on his own?"

The woman beside him nodded.  "He thought we would be safe enough."

"The Reverend Mother may be the greater danger when you return alone with me."

Lady Aliset laughed lightly.  "Just don't throw me over your shoulder to add to her current level of concern."

Darcy grinned and they made there way back up the street leading to the Nunnery.  They spoke little, neither one wanting to say anything that might catch someone's attention.

Simon let them in the gate, and when asked, told them that Sir Washburn was with the Reverend Mother.  Father Columcil might have returned, but he was not sure.

"Let's check the guest house to see if he's there," Darcy suggested as he started in that direction. "If he is, he'll be chaperone enough we can sit inside.  With the door open."

Father Columcil was in the guest house.  He had secured a small pitcher of ale and several cups.  Aliset seated herself on the room's only stool, positioning it so she could be seen from the doorway.  Darcy sat down the on his bed from the night before, removed his leather cap and scratched his head with both hands.  Several strands of pale hair came loose from the braid, falling along the sides of his face.  He brushed them back and accepted the cup of ale offered by the priest.

"Do we have a plan?" Father Columcil asked, seating himself on the bed opposite Darcy.

Darcy took a healthy drink of his ale.  "Not really, but Sir Washburn and I came up with a few possibilities."

"Yes?"  Aliset asked eagerly.

"All have some risk. There may be a tunnel or passage under the town wall; they are not uncommon where I come from, and Sir Washburn is familiar with the one at Castle Coroth.  If there is one, and right now it's a big if, it's not likely we could get the horses through.  Someone would have to bring them round to meet us, and that is a risk."

"Other possibilities?" Columcil asked. 

"We thought about trying to get someone to smuggle us out in a wagon or two, but unless our horses draw the wagon, there is still getting the horses brought to us to deal with."

"That's all?" Aliset asked.

Darcy smiled ruefully.  "Other than those two, everything else we came up with was pretty much garbage. Sir Washburn," he added, "did intend to ask the Reverend Mother about a tunnel or passage."

Aliset looked thoughtful but said nothing. 

Suddenly restless, Darcy drained his cup, stood and walked over to the door.  They needed to be on their way soon; they didn't dare stay here much longer.  Yet he also knew that the danger would increase as soon as they left.  He spotted a familiar figure approaching from across the Nunnery courtyard.

"Ah, here comes Sir Washburn," Darcy announced. "Whether the Reverend Mother knows of a tunnel, or if she will tell us if she does, is a roll of the dice."
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#198
"...is a roll of the dice," Darcy was saying as Wash entered the guest room.

"Master Darcy, I know there is little to do on shipboard during your off-hours, but Dice? Certainly by now, you have learned that those are always a bad prospect. Dice rarely roll to your benefit. At least they have most certainly given me bad percentages of winning. I can tell you, I am not lucky at dice." Wash laughed as he pretended to roll a set of dice onto the floor. He looked at the invisible dice and laughed again. "Ah a good roll! For the first time in a long time." He gave his companions a broad smile. "Now, give me four white and four black dice and I can have the power of the Gods'. Sorry Father, just saying hypothetically," he laughed at Columcil's chagrin. "If only one young nephew of mine had not Borrowed," he stressed the word, "my dice, I might actually wield said power." He poured himself some of the ale and sat down on his bed. "Your stuck with me the way I am," he added in a demur tone. One hand brushed across the back of his head. "Owy! Starting to feel like a mowed church lawn. Do you have to shave your tonsure every day to keep it?" He asked the good father with a happy jest. Happy that his was going to grow out soon, that is.

Father Columcil only shook his head. "Doesn't take long before it stops growing and you rarely have to shave. You certain you don't want to be a monk a little longer. One or two more shaves is all that it might take." The good father laughed at the horor that crossed the young man's face.

"Ah no. I will leave that for men with true vocations. That would not be me. Forgive me Uncle Duncan." Wash said to the ceiling.

"So...?" Master Darcy asked as Wash took a long drink.

"Yes," Wash said in answer.

Darcy looked pleased.

"Learned a little something from Tomas. It seems those four were hired by a man using the code name Phyer. I want to show you what I learned. Yet..."

((02:20 Laurna Wash sharing what he learned.
02:20 Laurna !roll 1d6
02:20 derynibot 1 == 1))

He stumbled over the memory like it hurt him. Had some of Phyer's shielding of his identity come across to Wash during his Truth Reading? Wash put his head in both hands and concentrated.

((02:30 Laurna new roll to shield the information in his mind to keep it contained.
02:30 Laurna !roll 1d6
02:30 derynibot 1 == 1
02:30 Laurna What did I just say about dice rolling))

It was no good, his head hurt more than ever. "Aliset...I..." He couldn't say more...
May your horses have wings and fly!

Evie

"Sir Washburn?!"  Aliset stared at the knight in alarm. Something evidently was blocking his ability to share what he had learned, but what new twist of magic was this?  She knew, of course, of ways to block someone's memories from being accessed in the first place, but blocking another person from being able to share memories gleaned from someone else was new to her.  She searched her minds for what might be causing this even as she reached her hands out to lay them on either side of his head, making soothing noises as she probed gently within his mind in an attempt to see what was causing his distress.

((09:22   EvieAliset   !roll 2d6 to get past Wash's block
09:22   derynibot   4, 6 == 10))

How curious!  There was some sort of compulsion to remain silent there, even though Aliset could not figure out how one might have been transferred from one Deryni mind to another. But that was something to ponder at leisure some other time.  It was sufficient that she managed to find and eliminate it.  That task done, she gave a sigh of relief and stepped back, smiling encouragement at Sir Washburn and awaiting what he had to share.
"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

#200
"Aaah!" Washburn sighed. "My thanks to you can not be expressed enough. I am guessing the trigger this man called Phyer set in Tomas was not as sloppy a setting as I had thought. I really do need to go back to the Schola to finish my training." He looked sheepishly at the lady, hating to admit his own weaknesses. "What I wanted was to share with each of you was this man's voice. If you hear it anywhere, I want you to be able to recognize the man were up against. At least the local one from Droghera." He looked around at the four seated before him. "Let us try this again." Wash lifted both hands palm up before him. "Touch my hands if you will, Darcy you may join us. If you think you can drop those shields long enough to do so. If not, I understand. Aliset should be able to share with you what she learns separately. No judgement from me either way. All right?"

Aliset stayed standing behind Wash, her hands on his head, just in the case he still felt distress from the sharing. Columcil joined his hand to the knight's right hand. After hesitation, Darcy grasped Wash's left hand. Though dropping those shields of his was not an easy prospect. He didn't completely. If he dropped them enough for get Washburn's information of Phyer, Wash honestly could not tell.

Wash opened to the memory of Phyer giving his orders to Kyle, Tomas, and the two others. The voice was deep with a very slight Torenthi accent. Almost a fake border brogue added, though it was not a born Mearan brogue.

After a moment, Wash himself pulled away. "My brother makes Rapport look so easy," he said with a slight shake of his head.
May your horses have wings and fly!

Jerusha

Darcy Cameron hesitated a moment and then grasped Washburn's left hand.  He barely knew what shields were, how was he to lower them?  Bloody hell!

Darcy felt a reproachful whisper in the back of his mind.  A woman's soft voice, admonishing that such language was not proper from a Son of Isles. Gently, she encouraged him to lower the barriers, like the tide rolling back from the shore.

It did not come easily, but he pulled them back just enough to receive Washburn's remembrance of the voice.  Darcy accepted it into his memory; he would not forget it.  Just as he had not completely forgotten the voice of his mother.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

revanne

A day later

It had not after all been the same day that they rode out; it had proved too difficult to decide on the safest way of leaving their refuge. Columcil had even suggested, only half in jest, that they should wait where they were in the hope that Washburn's message had got through and even now half the Cassani army were thundering towards their rescue. It had not gone down well with the youthful ardour of his companions, in fairness he had had to agree that their continued presence would sooner or later put the townsfolk in even greater danger than they had already. He did not want another Kieran on his conscience.

However perhaps there was something to be said for giving the appearance of staying a little longer, to put those who were watching them off their guard if only slightly. He had breakfasted with Father Eifion after morning Mass and had relished the ample fare, the first really satisfying meal since they had left Culdi. The meal provided in the nunnery guest house, though sufficient for bodily needs, lacked both variety and taste. Father Eifion, noting his guest's enthusiasm, had given the name of an alehouse in the town which had a name for both the quality of its ale and its venison pies. It might, of course, be a trap but if Eifion was in the pay of the separatists then their chances of getting out alive were slim anyway. Better to face your Maker full of good ale and meat. As Columcil made his way back to the guesthouse, he prayed earnestly that he would not find Aliset there this morning and, thinking that, fell to wondering whether it would be possible to find a way for her to accompany them on their foray into town. Otherwise he feared it would fall to him to be left behind while Darcy and Washburn took full advantage of his intelligence.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
(Psalm 46 v1)

Jerusha

"I think she should come with us," Darcy Cameron said as he shoved his foot into his boot and tapped his heel sharply on the floor a few times to make sure the fit was correct. Father Columcil, Sir Washburn and he were in the Nunnery guest house. He reached for the second boot.

"I'm not sure the Reverend Mother will allow it," Father Columcil said thoughtfully.  "Perhaps if she shifts into her Lord Alister disguise...."

"I'm of two minds about that," Darcy admitted.  "I wonder if it might be better if she came with us as herself."

"I'd say that's a bit risky, Master Darcy," Washburn interjected.

"If we hope to give the impression that we are not in a hurry to leave, it might be better if she goes as herself."  He held out his hand to forestall the objection he was sure Sir Washburn was about to make.  "I carried a young lady up to the Nunnery; if we show up with a young lord, that will raise questions and perhaps give away her ability to be someone else."  Darcy firmly moved his mind away from the memory of that particular warm body in his arms. 

"We cannot risk her safety," Washburn said firmly.

"I agree.  We can make it an early night and be back well before dark. Whatever plan we decide on to get us away to Rhemuth, we need to make an early start."  Darcy paused a moment.  "Father Columcil, if you asked Father Eifion to join us, Sir Washburn and I would each have a priest to ensure we are honourable in a public house.  Do you think the Reverend Mother would object?  She can't very well keep Lady Aliset a prisoner here."

Father Columcil looked doubtful.  "I think what we must do first is ask Lady Aliset what she would like to do.  There is no point in annoying the Reverend Mother more than we already have if Lady Aliset doesn't want to come with us."

"Aye," Darcy agreed.  'I have noticed that Lady Aliset knows her own mind."
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Evie

((Technically these scenes would all go before revanne's scene above. Dhugal would have made his contact after bedtime, when he would be most likely to be able to get a message through to Richelle in her sleep.  Dice roll was done on 1/22 when I did the other rolls for him, but just as a reminder, I am copy/pasting those results here:

No time to write a second scene at the moment, but I went ahead and rolled to see if Dhugal succeeds in that attempt to contact Richelle, although that scene will need to wait until late at night after she's asleep. I rolled it at a disadvantage since I doubt Dhugal is in the habit of linking with Richelle, but since the dice are smiling upon me at the moment....

15:57   Evie   !roll 1d6 for Dhugal to contact Richelle
15:57   derynibot   6 == 6


Duncan would have left Ballymar to return to Rhemuth after receiving Duncan Michael's news, and Jass would have ridden forth with his retinue the following morning at daybreak.))
======================================
Early evening ((I don't recall what time the messenger arrived, but I'm guessing this timestamp would work.))

Duncan McLain stepped out of the Portal niche in what had once been his study before he became Archbishop of Rhemuth and Father Nivard had taken his place as the Rector of Saint Camber's Schola.  John looked up in mild surprise as Duncan entered the room.

"You're early," John remarked with a welcoming smile.  "We weren't expecting you back for another day or two."

Beside John, Sister Helena--better attuned to Duncan's moods even though he made no conscious attempt at rapport with her at that moment--met Duncan's eyes with a concerned frown, laying the scroll she was reading on her lap absently. "What's wrong?"

"Something seems to be afoot in Meara," he answered as he crossed the room towards the door, "but at this point it's still hard to know what. I need to consult with Kelson, though." He paused at the door to spare them a brief glance over his shoulder. "Not meaning to sound so mysterious, but this feels urgent. I'll try to get back later tonight with a fuller explanation. I understand Richenda is here in Rhemuth?"

Helena nodded. "She and the rest of the family arrived last night."

"Good. Apparently she's sensed...something.  It would be good to know more particulars. And the more Deryni minds we can turn to putting together the pieces of this puzzle, the better."

"Ours are at your service, Your Grace, if you have need of them," Father Nivard reminded him.

Duncan grinned back at him before continuing out the door.  "I was rather counting on that!" he assured them both.
--------------------------------------------------

Two hours after midnight

Duchess Richelle awoke with a start, the images of her vision yet so vivid that her first impulse was to survey her surroundings in alarm, making sure there was no signs of danger in close proximity.  As her extended senses detected no nearby threat, her heart rate calmed, and she took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly to cleanse her inner turmoil from her system.

Beside her, Brecon stirred.  "What is it, love?" he murmured sleepily.

She blinked away the lingering fog of sleep.  "Duke Dhugal...sent me a message, I think."

Her husband looked puzzled at first, then understanding dawned in his eyes. "Through some sort of dream vision, you mean?  Some Deryni thing?"

Despite the gravity of Dhugal's message, Richelle had to smile at Brecon's phrasing.  "Yes, love, a 'Deryni thing' indeed!"  She frowned. "He asked if we have heard any whispers or rumors of unrest here in Meara, or of a rise in banditry recently."  Taking his hand, she Mind-Shared the Duke of Cassan's communication with her. "Apparently Baron Jass is on his way back to Trurill to take care of a coup against one of his vassal's manors by an alleged Mearan separatist, and the messenger tasked with getting the news to Dhugal and Jass barely made it to Castel Dearg alive."

Brecon's frown echoed her own. "I've not noticed any increased activity of that sort, but then again, if there any anything stirring, I imagine the leaders of such rebellion would attempt to keep any hints of it from us for as long as possible."  He looked out the window. It was still full dark, a few hours from dawn.  "Rory and Noelie should be arriving sometime in the morning; perhaps they've heard something.  In the meantime, I suppose we can merely watch and wait."

"And make careful inquiries," Richelle added.

"Definitely," said Brecon.  "I'll send my best scouts out at first light."
---------------------------------------------
Dawn, the next morning

Sir Jass, along with a company of twenty-five men-at-arms--some his own MacArdry retainers, and others of the Duke of Cassan's retinue--mounted up and rode out towards Trurill.  Baroness Ailidh, after watching the departing men ride off, retreated back into Ballymar Castle, but not to remain closeted in the ladies' solar until Jass's communication with his liegelord later that evening.  Instead, she descended the stairs to the hidden Portal room, stepping onto the center stone to return to her home keep at Trurill using a much faster method of travel.
"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

#205
Even as the good Father arose from his cot to get ready for his morning office, Washburn awoke, fully refreshed from having a good night's sleep. He dressed quickly in trouse, linen shirt, chainmail and his Lendour Tunic. If they were staying put for at least the morning, better to make it appear he was causally using his rank, than to appear he was trying to be secretive. Unless he learned how to use Alisets shapeshifting spells, he doubted that that by now there would be anyone in this village who did not recognize him.

With a little worry for the Noble lady who was sleeping in separate quarters than their own, but who was well guarded by the Infermariana, Wash cast outward with a focused "Good Morning"

((11:48 Laurna mind speak to Aliset.
11:49Laurna !roll 1d6
11:49 derynibot 5 == 5))

"My lady, good morning, I hope it is a refreshing morning for you?" He heard her good morning in return though it still had a bit of sleepness infused in her words. "No need to get up too quickly, all is well here. The good father is going to church this morning and I will make the rounds of the town. I will see what can be happening in the village today. I will return to you with a full report."

"Very well," the lady Aliset replied, much more awake with this reply.

"There is some discussion here about you being yourself the morning. I will allow you your own mind on that subject for today. As long as you remain in our company with all of us, it will be acceptable for you to stay yourself. Your true guardian, Master Darcy, is very protective of you. You know that?" Wash smiled inwardly. "Now if you plan to go about secretively with just Darcy. Do Not do so as Aliset. or even as Alister. Find another guise if you must. Be well until I  return."

Wash finished arming himself; he walked with Columcil as far as the church. Then he continued on to the town walls. He greeted the gatekeeper who had not yet opened the big gates but was getting ready to do so. Wash climbed the steep steps up to the top of the wall.  He greeted the guard standing there, and then walked over to the stone Merlon, leaning out to peer over the crenel.

There was good cleared space of flat land beyond the walls. Well maintained. Only a low hedgerow of brush could be seen beyond the flat land, before the forest began. The road they had traveled up two days ago was clear, no foot traffic, no horse or carts waiting to enter the town. Yesterday had been market day. Today would be a quiet one.

Even in this still morning, it was not completely quiet. There was a very faint rustle among the hedges. Wash watched it for a moment. Yes, indeed something was there.

"Would there be any children picking berries out there this morning," he asked the local guard. "Any reason for a child to be within that hedge?"

"No, my lord," replied the guard. He had not noticed the movement until the tall Knight pointed it out. After a moment the guard nodded that he saw it to. "Been having trouble with the wild boars coming close to the gates. Especially after market day. They look for the leavings our vendors tend to throw aside on their way back home."

"Aye, I see." Wash said, having heard Father Columcil say he saw such a beast on his when here. Nonetheless, Wash could not be certain that was all that it was. "Would you mind?" he asked pointing to the guards long bow.

The guard smiled. "The hedge is out of range," he said. Though he did as the lord asked and handed bow and quiver over.

((12:14 Laurna Shoot a longbow; advantage
12:14 Laurna !roll 3d6
12:14 derynibot 2, 5, 2 == 9
12:16 Laurna Focused Telekinesis
12:17 Laurna !roll 2d6
12:17 derynibot 2, 4 == 6))

Wash lifted the bow with appreciation, the town did not sherk it's duty to have good weapons. He aimed high, marking the light breeze, and the movement in the hedge. He was not convinced if the motion was caused by man or beast. Something lay low out there. With a sharp focus he let the arrow fly. The arrow landed tip in the dirt right where he had intended it to be, just inside the hedge, just before the thing that was routing there.

((12:25 Laurna 1-3 a wild boar, 4-6 a man from the bad guys.
12:25 Laurna !roll 1d6
12:25 derynibot 1 == 1))

A wild boar squealed and ran back away from the hedge and into the forest.  Wash nodded, well satisfied that it had not been a scout watching for their departure. He handed back the bow and arrows. "Thank you, my good man."

The Knight left the walls to find the stables and check on his gear and on their horses.
May your horses have wings and fly!

Evie

((OK, not entirely sure who is still in that guesthouse, since Jerusha's scene has all three men still in it, but revanne's scene has Columcil out to morning Mass already (or maybe he's just returned?), and Laurna's scene is evidently set just before Columcil's, but was posted afterwards.  But I'll assume that at least Darcy is still in the guesthouse and attempt to make this fit. Somehow. If one takes heavy drugs before reading today's posts.  I'm so confused! ;D ))

Aliset waited in a shadowed corner of the courtyard within sight of the door to the guest house.  This time, she knew better than to simply walk in!

She considered whether she should simply approach the door and knock, or if perhaps it might be more prudent to attempt a mental probe to detect Darcy's presence, and then speak directly into his mind.  On further reflection, she decided against that course of action. The poor man seemed spooked enough by the frequent use of Deryni magic he'd witnessed from his companions without adding psychic intrusion to his list of startling experiences.

While she pondered, the door opened, rendering further contemplation a moot point.

Aliset smiled as Darcy exited the building, approaching him to speak quietly.  "If I must spend one more minute in that dormitorium, I shall scream," she murmured, her voice pitched to be barely audible. "Rescue me! Don't we have something outside these walls that desperately needs doing?"  As she spoke, she gradually began to walk towards the gates, Darcy falling into step beside her.

"I was just on my way to seek you out, my lady," he replied.  "Are you hungry? We were just discussing grabbing a bit of tavern fare . . . and, um, making other plans."  He added the last bit in an evasive whisper as they drew near to the gate sentry.

"Sounds lovely," Aliset whispered back. "I'm famished." They continued their approach to the convent gate.

"Ah...Will the Reverend Mother object to you being seen out alone with me?" Darcy asked as he risked a surreptitious glance back over one shoulder.

"In truth, I don't intend to ask," Aliset replied as she continued to walk, one guard bowing as he hastily opened the gate before her, perhaps fearing she meant to walk headlong into the barrier if he lingered too long at the task, since she made no effort to slow her pace as she approached it.

Darcy, ever protective of her, managed to slip past her to exit first, his pale eyes quickly surveying their surroundings to ensure there was no immediate threat in sight.  This quick survey done, and after Aliset had extended her own senses to check for danger herself, she held her hand out and looked at him meaningfully until he caught the hint and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

She allowed him to lead her towards their destination, not knowing what it was and in truth not really caring, so long as it got her out of the overly sheltering confines of the convent, though once they reached a sheltered doorway that hid them from view of any passers-by, she gave his arm a slight squeeze to get his attention before releasing it. "One moment," she whispered.

((16:20   EvieAliset   Rolling for Aliset's shape change
16:20   EvieAliset   !roll 2d6
16:20   derynibot   4, 6 == 10 ))

Muttering the words of a spell under her breath while tracing around her face in an oval, she focused on transforming her features.  Darcy was no longer startled to find a total stranger standing before him, only this time the young lad with auburn hair and a sprinkling of freckles bore no resemblance to any other guise he'd yet seen Lady Aliset wear.
"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 surveyed the transformation beside him.  Sweet Jesu, would he ever get used to this magic? 

"You might have warned me," he said, careful not to sound too reproving. 

"Does the magic disturb you?"  the young man who used to be Aliset asked.

"In truth, I'm not sure.  But no need to worry about it now.  I am told by Father Columcil there is excellent stew and good ale waiting for us in a tavern below."

"I'm all for it!" the young lad declared.

"So who is it I should now address?" Darcy asked.  "Stable boy, pewter's apprentice, cut purse?"

"Hardly cut purse, unless you want to bail me out of the gaol!" The lad beside him grinned a mischievous grin.  "Alfred should do."

"Very well then, Alfred.  We are off to the tavern!"

Darcy was sure it was the calm before the storm.  A few moments of relaxation, a short respite, before they travelled back into the lion's den.

Darcy noted the intense look of one of the town guard as they walked past.  There was no look of recognition.  Darcy had donned his leather cap before they left, hiding his pale hair.  No one would have seen the red-haired lad beside him before.  Nevertheless, without being obvious, Darcy noted the guard's appearance and committed it to memory.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#208
The stable yard and barn were far to the left of the town square. A short six foot tall brick wall surrounded the yard and butted up against the blacksmith's building. One side of the smithy opened to the yard with a tall awning to allow a horse to be shod underneath it, close to the anvils and furnace. The opposite side of the smithy opened on to the square proper to allow for the weapons master to sell his wares. That was where Aliset's new daggers had been purchased. Lord Washburn fingered a plain brown leather bridle hanging on a near post. It was sized for a small horse. Not large enough for Shadow's muscular build. "Do you have a bridle that would fit my stallion?" he asked of the man who was at the anvil.

The man looked up. He knew exactly which horse Wash was talking about. "Not many steeds of that quality in these parts, my lord. I could make you one, although, it would take two days."

Wash sighed, "Two days? You can do no better?

"No my lord, Your destrier deserves the finest leather, My apprentice and I would be sewing all day and night to have it done by then."

"I will consider it, Master Smith,  yet I am thinking I will not have that time to spare." Wash walked away.

He walked down through the barn isle, looking at all the plowing and driving horses stabled there. None had the head size  of Shadow, none would have a used bridle large enough that he could even trade. That red leather had been a showy sign of his rank. Come the time his fellowship would want to leave, a time far sooner than two days, he needed a more unobtrusive look for his horse. He arrive where Shadowed Night's was stabled. In a larger manger than the others, with a huge pile of hay and oats that the stallion was happily munching upon. "You eat all that and you'll be too fat and lazy to leave," he chided his horse. Shadow nudged him, happy to see him, but the horse whinnied when Wash took a large armful of the hay and moved it down to where the other smaller horses ate their meager portions.  As he pushed the fodder into the other mangers he spied two boys soaping down a pile of leather gear and oiling the leather with a dark stain.

"That is a lot of work you have there," Wash said to the boys. At least eight bridles and eight full harness were among the items hanging from a cross beam.

"Gotta ' ready for 'marrow morn," one boy said.

"Father riding out to Rhemuth; wants his gear clean, no grim on his horses when he rides for the capital," the second boy said.

"Is he now," Wash inquired with interest. "Seeing as how you boys are doing such a fine job, you wouldn't think it a problem if I add one more bridle to your workload, for two silver each." He added to the incentive.

The boys lifted their heads at that. Dad wasn't paying them for any of this work. That is the trouble with family chores. A little coin would be welcome.

Wash went back a few stalls, retrieved the red bridle, reins and martingale. Then returned to where the boys were working. "If you can use that black stain and cover all the red, I'll give you three silver a piece."

Both boys eyes grew wide. "Yes, my lord,"

"We have a deal?"  Wash asked, handing each boy one silver each. "The rest when I come back this afternoon."

"Now tell me why your dad is going to Rhemuth, and perhaps you could arrange for me to talk to him when I come back to pay you this afternoon."

Ideas of how to escape this town were starting to form in Washburn's mind. He returned back to his gear to retrieve his bow and his quiver and that heavy cloak he had in his bags. His hand touched his father's journal. He felt instant shame that he had left it here unguarded and very thankful that no one had pilfered it. He placed it under his tunic and chainmail, near to his heart.

He would need to find Father Columcil soon and perhaps find something to eat. His stallion had had too much food, but he himself had had very little so far this day.
May your horses have wings and fly!

revanne

#209
((Doing a bit of sheep dog here and rounding us all up into that tavern))

Columcil watched Darcy and lady Aliset leave from the guesthouse window. They seemed to be discussing something animatedly but Columcil made no doubt that the lady would win the argument and not just because Darcy deferred to her rank and gender. She was brave and true-hearted, not unlike, he reflected, his mental idea of St Melangell as she faced down the evil of her own day. So thinking, he sighed regretfully for a moment as he thought of his remote parish and the peaceful little stone church containing the saint's shrine, then recalled himself to his present duty with a mental slap.

He had agreed to wait for Sir Washburn but on reflection the stables seemed a better place to wait than the guest house. - Given the good knight's attention to detail it was almost certain he would want to check on their mounts and gear. As he entered the stable his own Spèan and Darcy's mare whickered in greeting and Sir Washburn whirled round his hand already on the hilt of his sword.

"The peace of the Lord, be with you too, my Son!" Said Columcil with a smile, though in truth he was glad that they had such a one with them. Washburn did not look the slightest abashed as he returned the smile but merely asked,

"What of Darcy and my lady?"

"They were heading down to Father Eifion's tavern, I watched them leave past the gatehouse. But whether we'll find a lady or a lad is anyone's guess." Then, with a courteous gesture which was half nod and half bow, he added, "Are you done in here, my Lord? Shall we go?"

"For now, yes. But we need to decide soon what we are to do."

Washburn looked far more worried than was right on a young man's face and Columcil forgot for a moment that he was in the presence of the great Duke Alaric's son and put his hand on his shoulder in reassurance as he would have done with any young man of his parish.

The tavern was only a few minutes walk away, tucked just behind the market square. There were few patrons this early in the day but away in a corner sat a man-at-arms in a leather cap and a young red-headed lad. As Columcil and Washburn made their way across they were pleased to see that there were four mugs of ale waiting on the table."
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
(Psalm 46 v1)