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Author Topic: Ghosts of the Past  (Read 32964 times)

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Offline Jerusha

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #75 on: December 19, 2017, 09:23:42 am »
Darcy Cameron tightened his grip on the prisoner beside him.  The man was in a panic over the removal of the amulet.  But Sweet Jesu, the priest was Deryni!

Darcy looked warily at Father Columcil and Sir Washburn.  What had he gotten himself into?
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #76 on: December 19, 2017, 10:25:34 am »
The bigger question, Darcy Cameron conceded to himself, was what to do with their prisoner.  If they continued to the church, the man would certainly decry their ruse as monks.  The man he gripped seemed to lose some of his bravado with the loss of the amulet, but Darcy felt the man’s muscles begin to tighten in resistance.

“Father,” Darcy said as he turned Austin away from his line-of-sight to Lord Alister, “why don’t you return to the church.” He jerked is head slightly in Alister’s direction, clearly suggesting that he take him with him.  “We’ll linger here awhile and see if we can convince our friend to be more talkative.”

Darcy smiled; it was not a pleasant smile. “In the nicest possible way, of course.”
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Offline Evie

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #77 on: December 19, 2017, 10:31:59 am »
Aliset took a moment to consider her situation.  Father Columcil had revealed his Deryni powers to Darcy, and thus far Darcy hadn't run screaming into the darkness. And surely he had to have figured out by now that Sir Washburn, younger son of the Morgans of Corwyn, was also Deryni.

It would not do, however, for their captive to recognize her.

Under the concealment of her hood, she allowed her features to transform into a form she was unused to assuming, but as her pursuer did not come from the village of Mariot or (as far as Aliset knew) any of the surrounding villages, it was unlikely he would recognize the slightly balding gray-haired visage she now assumed as that of the village cobbler.  ((6 + 5, verification #1904cblgl7, for a successful shift to the new shape.))  Pushing back her hood, she regarded the wounded man soberly as she approached.

"What have we here?  An arrow wound?"  Casting a glance at Darcy, who appeared somewhat stunned (and little wonder, Aliset thought, wishing she'd been able to warn him beforehand), though not so much as to lose his hold on his captive, she drew closer, ready to draw her dagger for self-defense if need be, but thus far the wounded man seemed to realize he was outnumbered and outmatched, now that his protective amulet had been taken away from him.  Pondering her choices, Aliset glanced at Sir Washburn.  "We will need to remove that arrow and staunch his bleeding before anything else, I think. Can't have the man bleeding out and dying on us before we've had a proper chance to question him." Looking into the man's eyes, she added, "You do realize, don't you, that there's no way to simply pull that arrow out without the arrowhead's barbs causing more damage to the wound?  We shall have to push it through so we can cut the head off first before we can draw out the shaft. I can offer you something for the pain, or perhaps one of my Deryni companions can alleviate it via magical means, if they so choose." She gave those men a skeptical smile. 

The wounded man turned pale, but met her gaze defiantly. "I'll accept no painkiller or potion from your  hand.  You likely mean to muddle my thinking, or worse."

"As you wish," Aliset answered, closing the distance between them, and laying one hand upon the arrow's shaft as if to push it the rest of the way through muscle and skin. At the last moment, however, she stopped, laying her other hand upon his brow instead.  ((Dice roll 3 + 4, verification #6gv7mcdrbx)) She attempted to Mind-Read him, but unfortunately she could not.  He was still shielded despite the removal of his amulet.  His shields were not particularly strong, no stronger than might be expected in a human who had spent a lot of time in contact with a Deryni, but she was still too tired to be able to break through them nonetheless, at least not without risking damage to him that might destroy the very memories she sought to gain access to.  She sighed.  "All right, it seems you're not feverish at any rate," she said in hopes the captive would not realize she was Deryni as well, and therefore figure out she was actually the lady he sought in someone else's guise.  "Let's do this, then."  Taking hold of the arrow's shaft again, she braced herself and pushed the arrow through his flesh the rest of the way.  Meeting Sir Washburn's eyes with a faint grimace, she said over the man's outcry, "If you'd remove the arrowhead now, my lord, we need the shaft out as quickly as possible so we can staunch the blood's flow."

((1d6 roll for Austin to check for further damage to his health and see if he loses consciousness. He got a 4, lucky fellow.  Verification#1p4xtx696g))

The wounded man swayed a little, but remained conscious, glaring at his captors defiantly.
"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!

Offline Laurna

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #78 on: December 20, 2017, 03:04:03 am »
Wash had accepted back his dagger with one hand, even as he took the leather thong from which dangled the amulet in his other hand. Just holding the metal ringed gem near was enough to confirm that this was indeed to source of the shadow Wash had felt earlier. That the good Father Columcil could feel it too, was the surprising proof that he too was Deryni. Darcy seemed none too pleased with this revelation. Wash knew several Deryni priest; beside those who were family. Most of them chose to stay close to Rhemuth or to Valoret, where acceptance was not an issue. Columcil was proving to have a story as yet unheard.  The priest even hinted that he could Heal?  He didn’t, however. Holding the amulet by the throng, Wash well understood why.

There was no time to delve into the amulets power. Columcil had turned away revealing Aliset behind him. Only, as she confronted their captive, her face was other than that of her own or her brother’s. Darcy appeared none too pleased with this revelation on top of the last.
 
Wash slide the amulet quickly in his pouch, best if the thing was out of visual sight and not touching skin. He prepared himself to jump in with dagger in hand, as the old monk who was Aliset pushed the arrow head through the wound on their captive’s shoulder. The arrow had sunk deep from his shot; it had cleared the bone causing little other obstruction for the steel tip to escaped the body through the back skin. Wash’s dagger was sharp, he snapped the head off the shaft in one quick motion. Even as Aliset pulled back on the shaft. He used that moment to place his hand firmly over the bare shoulder, his mind seeking Control through the touch, swift to overcome the other's resistance.

((2d6  rolled 4 and 4, failure, darn, Verification Number: 3rzs394hwf))

Resistance he meet. It mattered not how fast his attack had been; his thoughts did circles around shields strong enough to hold in defense. Yet that was all. Their captive did not respond with a mental attack of his own. Wash had been prepared for that, yet there was no energy build up or reciprocating strike. So the man was not Deryni. That would make things easier.

Their captive pulled away from his touch. Wash let him. Darcy’s grip was sure, the wounded man was going no where. “I think we shall take a moment to dress our friend’s wound. I have nothing to accomplish that, so I am certain you will not mind if I go through your saddlebags to find what cloth we can use?” Wash was please to see concern in the wounded man’s glare with his head turned as far back as Darcy’s hold would allow. There was something in the bags that this man did not want Wash to find.

(( 2d6  roll 2 and 6  Verification Number: 6fsvlngrhn))

Wash pulled out a few expected items. A cup, a small knife, dried meat rolls, a bread loaf. He handed over the gauze cloth that had wrapped the bread to Aliset for a bandage. Still, deep in the bag, his fingers touched something round and cold, attached to a torn fragment of cloth. His hand pulled the item out. It was a pewter brooch with an eagle's head pinned to a segment of green and blue wool. Blood was on the edge where the wool was frayed.

It took every ounce of power for Wash to not turn around and brandish Sir Alister's brooch in his captive’s face. He daren’t, not in front of Aliset. It would send her into a rage. He would show her, later, when their prisoner was more secure. Or dead!

His fist tightened on his dagger. Anger swept through him.  He had his proof. Kelric would say it was justice. Kelson.... Kelson… the man, would not reprimand him. The King.. the King, who was the justice of the land... King Kelson would say he should have brought the prisoner before him and let Him be the Hand of Justice.

Fuming, Washburn stayed his hand.
« Last Edit: December 21, 2017, 12:44:28 am by Laurna »

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #79 on: December 20, 2017, 09:30:39 am »
Darcy Cameron had a momentary desire to release the prisoner, steal his horse, and get as far away from this small Deryni horde as he could.  But only for a moment.  He had not progressed upward from a kitchen swab on his first ship by running from the twists and turns in his life.  There had been too many twists this day, and his companions had a lot of explaining to do.

Now, however, was not the time.  Not in front of their prisoner, who was sweating profusely, partly from pain, and partly, Darcy suspected, from fear. The older monk, who must certainly still be Lord Alister, cleaned the wound with the small amount of wine left in the wineskin Sir Washburn had retrieved from the captive’s horse.  He had tossed it to the monk almost angrily.  What had he found in the man’s saddlebags to put him in such ill temper?

Their captive’s breathing became less ragged as the monk wound the cloth around the wound.  Darcy maintained his tight grip, perhaps tightening a bit more than necessary as the result of his own frustration. 

Lord Alister finished and stepped back from the prisoner, wiping the blood from his hands on the small amount of cloth that had not been required to bandage the wound.  Darcy took the opportunity to take a closer look at the monk.  Whatever his employer had managed to do, he had done it well.  Lord Alister gave a slight nod, acknowledging the scrutiny.

“My Lord,” Darcy said curtly to Washburn.  Best not to use names in front of the man he held firmly. “May I suggest we take this opportunity to question our captive?”  He moved swiftly to grab the injured arm and turn the man toward Washburn.  The man gasped and uttered a curse through clenched teeth.

Father Columcil and Lord Alister looked ready to object; Sir Washburn looked uncertain; remembering what he had found in the saddlebag, he was sorely tempted to allow the seaman to do what damage he wished. 

“We need answers and don’t have a lot of time to waste,” Darcy said firmly.  “Unless you have a better suggestion, I’ll see what I can learn.”
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Offline Evie

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #80 on: December 20, 2017, 09:55:51 am »
Aliset sighed, acknowledging the necessity of getting answers from their stalker. Deryni methods had failed to obtain that information, partly due to his protective shielding, but also partly (in her case anyway) due to her fatigue, so perhaps Darcy's methods would work better. Still, it would be better if they could question the prisoner out of the rain and damp, not to mention conceal their increasingly suspicious-looking activities for an alleged party of traveling monks from outside observation.  She nearly reached for her familiar belt pouch for the Ward Cubes she'd normally carried with her whenever she ventured away from home, until she remembered that not only was she not wearing that pouch right now, she'd not had time to retrieve those items before fleeing her manor home with Oswald's men in hot pursuit.

"I agree we need answers," she said, "though it would be best if we could obtain them somewhere a bit better protected from the weather and concealed from any curious eyes that might happen to be around."  She briefly debated the wisdom of continuing her thought aloud, but since she was hopeful the captive had not seen through her disguise yet, she carefully phrased the rest of her idea. "Perhaps it would be best to continue this within the shelter of the church, or perhaps even here under a protective Ward, although of course some of you might be better equipped for that sort of thing than I would be."  She looked around at her companions.  "Do any of you happen to have a set of Ward Cubes on your person at the moment?  Or even a set of regular dice that could be attuned to work as such? It needn't even be cube-shaped, just something stackable could work." She glanced at the captive's bag. "Perhaps he has something that might be of use to those who know how to work that sort of thing?"
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
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Offline Evie

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #81 on: December 20, 2017, 01:41:06 pm »
Aliset glanced at Sir Washburn in query, but he simply sighed and shook his head.  Whether he simply meant he didn't have his Ward Cubes on his person at the moment, or didn't have them with him at all, or that he had seen none in their prisoner's bag while he was going through it, she could not tell, but it was sufficient to inform her that a handy set of Ward Cubes was unlikely to be produced from that quarter.  A quick glance at the priest showed him glancing back at her with an expression that was difficult to read, though she guessed he didn't have Ward Cubes either, or perhaps not any that were immediately at hand. Or maybe he was reluctant to tip his hand before their reluctant guest as well.  And as for Darcy, he was unlikely to own anything as esoteric as a set of magical Ward Cubes, wasn't he?  No, unless she spent precious time and energy to search for materials to activate to serve such a purpose, it seemed they were going to have to do without the standard Deryni means of warding.

Which wasn't to say that there weren't any available forms of warding that couldn't serve the purpose nearly as well, at least for a short time until better arrangements could be made.  Casting a quick glance around the area, she spotted a nearby willow tree.  Aliset smiled.  Using her dagger, she swiftly chopped off a slender branch.  Returning to her companions who stood guard around their prisoner, she told them, "My mother used to use an old Border folk prayer to protect our livestock.  Let's see if it might prove useful here." 

Centering herself and focusing her mind on the task at hand, she began to walk around the gathered group in a circle, walking sunwise around them, inscribing a circle on the ground with the tip of the willow branch, the center of this circle at her right side.  As she walked, she began to speak quietly.  "Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, bless the ground that I walk on. Four Archangels, gather near; pray protect those gathered here.  Holy Trinity, grace this ground with protection all around." 

((Dice rolls 6 + 4, verification #50g45zm2n5.  YES! Finally SOMETHING went right!!! ;D)

Thrice she circled the group, repeating the chant.  As she sealed the circle at the end of the third round, a dome of protection, more sensed than seen, rose up around them, obscuring those within from the outside world while deflecting the falling rain.
"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!

Offline revanne

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #82 on: December 20, 2017, 02:30:57 pm »
Columcil saw Alister's glance and cursed himself for his indecision. He knew that he was far less exhausted than she was; in any case he had already revealed himself to have power of a kind and the warding he could have offered was common to border folk, not just Deryni. By the Saints, she was a brave lass! Something akin, indeed, to how he imagined St Melangell herself. Muttering a prayer of apology to that Saint for his own cowardice, he thought that his best way of making reparation might be to offer to lessen Alister's fatigue,  if he could do so discreetly  ( (1+1 =2 4j66kbhd81)) but as he moved towards her he realised that all he had succeeded in doing was to make their captive eye the both of them with suspicion. 
Let God rise up, let his enemies be scattered;
    let those who hate him flee before him.
As smoke is driven away, so drive them away;
    as wax melts before the fire,
    let the wicked perish before God.
(Psalm 68 vv1-2)

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #83 on: December 20, 2017, 03:16:23 pm »
Dice roll:  2 + 3 = 5 (verification 1rqft4kkgj)

Darcy Cameron was frustrated.  The man should not have died.

A few punches in sensitive places and a sharp twist to their prisoner’s wounded arm had merely been to let the man know that Darcy meant business and suggest he could do worse.  Darcy did not consider himself a cruel man; the suggestion that he would break the good arm in several places and it would not likely heal straight was meant to frighten.  No one wanted to go through life, even temporarily, with two crippled arms.  Darcy might even have done it.

He had not expected the man to suddenly arch his back in rigour, bleed from his mouth, ears and nose and collapse.

They had all frozen in that moment, staring in horror at the body on the ground.  Father Columcil moved forward first, but Darcy stopped him briefly with an outstretched arm, drew his sword and planted the tip in the centre of the chest of the man laying on ground.  He could be still be alive, though Darcy doubted it. If he tried to spring up or grab the priest, he would impale himself.

Father Columcil nodded, knelt beside the man and felt for a pulse.

“He’s gone,” the priest said as he rose to his feet.

“Bloody hell, and no I don’t beg your pardon, Father.” Darcy returned his sword to its scabbard and stood with his hands on his hips.  “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him for this.  Now all we have is a body to explain and no information at all!”

Darcy did not notice the look that passed between his three companions behind his back.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Offline Evie

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #84 on: December 20, 2017, 03:35:08 pm »
((Noooooo!!! LOL!))

Sir Washburn closed his eyes briefly as if praying, or perhaps summoning his strength.  Or maybe calling up reserves of patience to keep from killing Darcy.  Possibly all three.

Falling to his knees beside the stricken captive, he glanced up at the others. "I might be able to find out the information we need through a Death-Reading, if it's not too late."

He lay his hand upon the man's brow, closing his eyes in concentration.  ((2 + 4, dagnabbit!  V#2gp1l7bbqd))  After a moment, he looked back up with a shake of his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line of frustration.  As his eyes met Darcy's, his gaze softened slightly.

"It wasn't your fault, man.  There was a Death-Trigger set in his mind, probably by whoever it was he was working for.  That much was evident, but unfortunately it did its work thoroughly."

"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!

Offline Evie

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #85 on: December 20, 2017, 09:14:50 pm »
There was a moment of shocked silence, then Father Columcil sank to his knees beside the dead man, perhaps to pray for his departed soul, or maybe just to confirm that he was actually dead rather than simply unconscious or feigning death.  Whatever he was doing, Aliset only barely registered the motion. She stood in stunned reflection as she stared at the tableau unfolding before her, mind frantically awhirl as she wondered how in God's name they were going to explain this to the King!  It might have been one thing if their prisoner had died while actively attacking them, if they'd had to defend themselves from some act of violence at his hands at the moment of his death.  But no, this did not look good, not at all.

Although...Sir Washburn had said something about a Death-Trigger.  Aliset breathed a relieved sigh.  Then it wasn't their fault.  Wasn't due to Darcy's rough handling of him.  Not entirely, anyway.  Which might not absolve them fully in the eyes of their King--not if he became privy to the full details, anyway--but it was something to cling to nonetheless.

She knew deep in her soul that this was the man who had hunted her down all the way from her village, even though now she had no way to prove his guilt to King Kelson.  Or did she?  Maybe they could learn something from Reading the lingering psychic impressions from that amulet the man had worn around his neck.  Surely that could provide them with some information about whoever had hired this man to pursue her?  Certainly Oswald had been involved in that in some way, but Aliset knew enough about Oswald's loyal retainers to recognize that this was not simply one of her cousin's lackeys.  No, there was some other person behind all this--some other Deryni.  They must find out who this other enemy might be.  And perhaps if they could prove that connection, that would be sufficient proof to bring before the King to show that, despite the accidental circumstances, this man had truly deserved to die.

With that hope to cling to, she turned to Sir Washburn.  "That amulet...we need to Read it!  We need some sort of proof that this man was ordered to follow us, and if possible, we need to find out who he was reporting back to."

Sir Washburn nodded slowly, although there seemed an odd reluctance in his reply.  "There is some other evidence in his bag that ought to prove sufficient, I think. Handling that amulet would be dangerous.  I sense an aura of darkness shrouding it."

Aliset stared at him. "What sort of evidence?"  And why had the knight not said anything about it before this?  Granted, everything had seemed to happen so quickly....

The Deryni knight seemed even more reluctant to answer this time, but at last he reached for the dead man's travel bag, fumbling inside it to produce what appeared to be a blood-stained piece of fabric. The details took a little longer to seep into Aliset's fatigue-clouded mind, but when at last she pieced them together--the eagle, the colors, the pattern of the weave--she sank to her knees before him, one hand reaching out for the precious item. 

Cradling it against her chest, she began to weep.  "Alister!  Oh, Alister, blood of my blood, my brother...."
"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!

Offline Laurna

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #86 on: December 21, 2017, 04:05:23 am »
Hell’s fury unleashed!

Nothing in this world was ever simple. Escort the surviving heiress to Rhemuth, Safely, his brother had asked of him. A few days in the saddle, acting as guard for a carriage with women on board.  How had that tasked ended up here.

Aliset was weeping. Caused by her exhaustion and grief, her features were shifting to the face of a maiden, whose high cheeks and wide eyes would prove her a beauty, if they had not been for her tears. Wash hadn’t wanted her to see the evidence, not like this. It could not be helped. He did not want his companions blaming themselves for this murderer’s death. Colmucil and Darcy had fallen into this not knowing the risks. This was not their doing.  He knelt down beside his friend's twin sister, one arm around her shoulders, giving what comfort he dared.

“Colmucil? Darcy?” he said quietly, looking up to the two other men.”This is very important that you know the full extent of what you are involved in. This is Lady Aliset de Mariot. She is the only surviving heiress of her late father’s estate. Her family has been assassinated upon the order’s of her cousin Oswald, who has taken over her manor house. That brooch was her brother’s; the same Lord Alister that you thought Lady Aliset to be. That man,” Washburn alluded to the dead man, “was the man who stole Alister’s life. I knew that the moment I touched my friend’s brooch. He may not have been the only one. I fear we may not be able to tarry here too long.”

A wave of responsibility came over the son of the King’s Champion. He would not be his father’s son, if he did not try to make this right. “If you must walk away from this, I suggest you do so now. If there is compassion and justice in your heart, than I plead with you not to. Instead, guard Lady Aliset. Take her back to the church, see that her identity is not discovered. And get what sleep is possible. Say nothing about this to anyone. If I am not returned by daybreak, proceed to Rhemuth, as swiftly as you are able.”

“What of him?” Darcy asked of his prisoner. “Are you burying him out here?”

“If it were only that simple,” Wash replied. “I’m taking the body to the near by manor house. A few days ago, the baron seemed like a reasonable fellow, loyal to Kelson, too. He knows of me. My rank and reputation should be enough to have my explanation believed. And as I will tell the truth, as much of the truth as Baron Adam Trillick needs to know, I should not be detained overlong. I'll say I am traveling back to Rhemuth to inform the king of the assassination of Baron Mariot and his family. I discovered I was being followed by one of the assassins, whom I confronted this night. I have proof that he is a  murderer. There was an altercation between us and he died, unintentionally, from his wound. There will be no mention of any of you.”

Wash turned his attention to Aliset, he sent all the energy that he dared to bolster her through the night. (( roll 2 &4 Verification Number: 39gqkjf5pj That dice rolling page hates me!)) Again, as before, the Rapport was one sided, but that was not a concern. What was a concern was taking the brooch from her fingers. She did not willing want to let it go. But she understood that was his proof. With a kiss to the pewter the surviving heiress let him take it.

“Be well, my lady. Take comfort that Alister is avenged.” He stood then, noted the resolution in the two men before him, and he leaned over, lifting the body and throwing it over the neck of the man’s horse. The ward was up, a faint shimmer of blue. “Let me go ahead of you, my lady. You may stay a little while under the ward after I am gone. But do not stay overlong. You need sleep in the protection of four walls.” She was hesitant, but she did as he asked. He walked the horse through the narrow opening she made in the ward. Wash leapt to the saddle feeling he had failed in some great way.  He gave a nod of respect and kicked the horse into a trot, away from the church and up the road to where the manor house stood on the hill.





« Last Edit: December 22, 2017, 11:59:05 am by Laurna »

Offline Laurna

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #87 on: December 21, 2017, 01:05:54 pm »
Sir Washburn Morgan regretted leaving his companions in the woods. He had only gone a few paces from the ward when he turned to say something to them. He could see them not. The ward was functioning perfectly. There was no evidence that it was there or that three people were safe inside it. If he ever eventually gets back to Rhemuth, he was going to have to ask his nephew to return his ward cubes. His pouch had gone missing after his last visit to his sister Grania’s house. He suspected her five year old son, Brion had taken them, thinking them a great dice game. An oversight on his part that he now regretted.

He berated himself. His  hand steadied the body before him. His thoughts replayed the events of the last hour. Why hadn’t he been able to mind read the man when he needed to the most? What powers had been in that amulet? And what monster would have set a Death Trigger in his own minion? Who was behind this and why?  Too many questions.

The rain which had been a light drizzle, was coming on harder. Wash brushed he hand over his wet hair and cursed has his fingers touched his tonsured scalp. Damn and double damn. He could not go before Lord Trillick like this. Aliset needed to teach him her magic. If he could make it look like he had hair. He didn’t try. Something told him that with his luck at magic, that might lead to some worse fate. His cloak was in his saddle bags and he really needed his horse anyway.

Wash changed direction. He arrived at the back of the church hedge row in the dark unseen. He tied the horse to a tree and secured the body to the saddle after he dismounted. It was dark, raining, and cold, he was in black. It was easy to slip into the shed row barn and retrieve his horse and gear.

(( roll2&6= 6 Verification Number: 69lgdf0rjj , Yes. Wash is good in all things not magic. I guess the dice just will not let him do mind reading. Sheesh))

All remains quiet, even the three remaining horses he leaves behind. He quickly retraces his steps to the tied up horse, throws his traveling cloak over his shoulders, mounts his horse and pulls the hood down over his face. Now he was ready to meet with Lord Trillick and explain what happened.

((Edited to change Grania's son's name to a proper Haldane Name :D))
« Last Edit: February 01, 2018, 03:26:50 am by Laurna »

Offline Evie

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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #88 on: December 21, 2017, 01:19:49 pm »
((You rolled a 6 there. That's a success.  What were you trying to do?))
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Re: Ghosts of the Past
« Reply #89 on: December 21, 2017, 01:22:27 pm »
((You rolled a 6 there. That's a success.  What were you trying to do?))
Wash succeeded in sneaking out the barn with his horse without causing the others to whinny and cause a fuss. Thus not bringing unwanted attention.

 

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