• Welcome to The Worlds of Katherine Kurtz.
 

Recent

Welcome to The Worlds of Katherine Kurtz. Please login.

March 29, 2024, 06:38:11 AM

Login with username, password and session length
Members
Stats
  • Total Posts: 27,486
  • Total Topics: 2,721
  • Online today: 254
  • Online ever: 930
  • (January 20, 2020, 11:58:07 AM)
Users Online
Users: 0
Guests: 247
Total: 247

Latest Shout

*

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

Previous topic - Next topic

0 Members and 2 Guests are viewing this topic.

Jerusha

Darcy Cameron paused just inside the door to Lord Buckley's great hall and took a steadying breath.  Father Columcil was right; charging head first toward the high table would not go over well.  Nor would running in armed.  In spite of his own reservations for doing so, he unbuckled his sword and laid it against the others by the door. 

As he approached the high table, he saw that Washburn was in conversation with the duke.  Lord Jaxom was immersed in lively conversation with Lord Alister.  Lord Alister looked politely amused and slightly bored.  Darcy forgave himself for his inner smirk.

It would be best if he approached Washburn quietly but with some degree of concern.  He did not want to embarrass the good Father, but he needed to secure assistance.

As Darcy approached the high table, Duke Kelric looked up.

"Beg pardon, your Grace," Darcy said as he rose from his bow.  "If I might have a word with Sir Washburn?" Washburn gave him a curious look.  Darcy cleared his throat delicately.  "Father Columcil is feeling a bit indisposed.  Nothing more that mead on top of too empty a stomach after the day we've had I'm sure, but if Lord Alister and/or Sir Washburn could spare a moment?"

Aliset, who overheard the request, rose immediately.  "Of course."  She knew immediately that her man-at-arms words did not quite ring true. 

Washburn stood as well.  "I'm sure it's nothing, but I could use a bit of fresh air myself."  At his brother's nod of agreement, Washburn joined Darcy and Aliset and withdrew from the hall.

Once at the door, Washburn turned to Darcy.  "What is this about?  What are you up to?"

"Let us join Father Columcil, and I'll explain.  I suggest you bring your sword."  Darcy lifted his own sword from the stack by the door and led the way outside.  "There is one who has joined us here that bodes ill."
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#331
Washburn was only too happy to follow Master Darcy and to retrieve his sword. As he clipped the sword and scabbard on his belt hanger, he suppressed his anger for having lost part of the Heirloom set. This sword was not meant to be carried alone. Its big brother was his favored great-sword, which had gone missing the day before. Even in an alternate state of merasha induced delirium, Wash had not mistaken the sight of his great-sword on the back of that man who orchestrated his attempted captured. That man had not succeeded, yet he had commandeered the Lendour heirloom. Grateful for his escape, Wash had not complained, yet the reminder of the loss gave him a moment to swear he would find a way to get it back.

At this moment, however, he had to put that anger aside and refocus on his friends. Something was up and he had yet to get a clue just what that was.  "So our hosts meal wasn't very good. Are we out to hunt killer Coneys to sate our appetites?  Or at least clear the throat of that poor mead. If Columcil is truly ill, I will gladly stand before Lord Buckley and forcefully request that he open his wine cellar. Certainly, he must have better than what he served the duke of the realm at table-side." Wash was not really joking as his eyes scanned the moonlit courtyard looking for the good Father.
May your horses have wings and fly!

revanne

Duke Kelric realised how much his opinion of his brother had changed in so short a time. Just a few days ago he would likely either have refused his brother permission outright or at the least demand that he explain himself. Worse still he might have chided Washburn for the lack of manners shown by him and his companions.

The realisation that had been creeping up on him since their conversation in the Church, and having spoken with his companions, now hit him with full force though nothing about his demeanour showed anything. He trusted his brother, utterly and completely. Washburn had been sent to do a simple task which had turned into a nightmare in the fulfillment of which he had handled himself well and won the loyalty of his companions. Whatever was going on, and Kelric was certain that it had nothing to do with the supposed overindulgence of the priest, he would not help matters by interfering unless he was specifically asked to do so. One of the burdens of his rank was that he could do nothing discreetly - even going to the garderobe would have had the whole hall on its feet until he had rapidly waved them down. Until he was asked, or unless he knew that Washburn was in serious danger when his love for his brother, always there but masked perhaps too much by his sense of responsibility and irritation, would be shown in all its intensity. Then let others beware.

For now though his task was to continue as though nothing of note had happened. He cast his senses discreetly outwards to feel if there was any other Deryni present ((123 yes, 456 no 4gt1833bmn)) and being reassured that there were none he risked Sending to Washburn

"No need to explain but I sense something's wrong. I'll cover for you here but keep me informed. Be safe."

Washburn gave no outward sign that he had heard but replied "Yes. Something's afoot and I'll wager that it's not Father Columcil. And thank you, My L... brother."

Kelric was hard put not to smile as his brother signalled his recognition of the change in their relationship by his change of address but turned towards Lord Buckley and said by way of explanation. "My brother met up with Father Columcil on his journey, it seems that the country priest is not used to such good fare as you have provided."
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
(Psalm 46 v1)

Laurna

#333
The figure of a priest was standing in the shadows of the stable wall. He held one hand to his belly as if it hurt and one hand to the wall as if to hold himself from falling. A stable boy was standing next to him looking concerned, but uncertain if he could even touch the priest and lend a helping hand. For the priest did look ill.  When Washburn saw him, he almost believed Columcil's act. Forced to playing the part before the stable boy, Washburn paced over to Columcil's side and put his hand under the good priest's elbow. "You don't look well, Father."

Columcil gave a belch that could turn the stomach of anyone in hearing range. The boy turned pale, not knowing  how to help the master's guests. Washburn sympathized. "Lad, go on, go back to taking care of the horses, I can see to the good Father."

The boy appeared to not have heard, "I can get you water to drink," he offered trying to be helpful.

"Nay, laddy," Columcil said while scrunching his shoulders high and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "Wha' I nee' is sa' peppermint leaves for boilin' w't a wine in my wine skin. Both wil' a be found in me' saddle bags. But I am nat'a sure I can'a walk that far myself."

"I will get them for you." The knight turned to the boy, handing over a half cent. "Thank you, lad, we got it from here."  The boy didn't question; once the coin was in his hand, he ran off. Washburn turned to Darcy and Aliset. "Stay here with Columcil. I will retrieve that which Darcy saw inside." Washburn's hand brushed Darcy's wrist. "Can you show me what he looks like," he asked very calmly, not wanting to frighten the seaman's fledgling use of powers.

((02:23 Wash Shallow rapport between darcy and wash 1d6 4,5,6 success.
02:23 Wash-darcy!roll 1d6
02:23derynibot1 == 1))

Unfortunately Darcy had not been prepared to drop his shields in order to share the information so readily. Apologetically Darcy instead whispered, "Same man we saw yesterday riding hard. He's wearing brown leathers, has black hair and mustache, a heavy belt over his jerkin with several daggers and a long cleaving knife."

Wash nodded, "Our trapper then." Wash scowled. "He is human and very dangerous. Lets not all walk into his traps, let me go first." The knight stepped toward the stable entrance.

((02:28 Wash, Wash sees Rayne when he walks in the stable 2d6 5,6 yes.
02:29 Wash-darcy!roll 2d6
02:29 derynibot 6, 5 == 11))

Half way down the stable yard, Wash was certain he saw the man Darcy had seen. The man was bent down tucking a dagger in his boot. When Washburn started walking his way, the trapper made the pretense of tying his saddle bag on his horse's far side. Hiding himself behind his mount while keeping an eye on the entering knight.  Washburn paid the trapper no mind as he walked passed him down the aisle, looking for his and Columcil's mounts. When he reach Spean, he pretended to look into the Priest's belongings bag. All the while trying to make contact with the Trapper's mind.

((02:56 Wash Opening his senses to make contact with Rayne 2d6 success 5,6
02:56 Wash-darcy !roll 2d6
02:56 derynibot 1, 1 == 2))

After a moment that seemed useless. He was going to need physical contact to read the man or to influence his actions. All of Washburn's senses were focused. One hand pulled his own dagger free, hiding it well between the horse and himself, while his other hand seemed to rummage through the bag on the saddle.
May your horses have wings and fly!

Jerusha

"I don't know that Sir Washburn walking into a possible trap by himself was such a good idea," Darcy Cameron muttered as he stood beside the much-recovered priest.  He looked at Aliset and asked, "Did you bring your dagger?"

Aliset nodded.  "I picked it up as we left."

"But you don't have your staff, Father."  Darcy unsheathed his dagger and passed it to Columcil, who took it with some reluctance.  "Just in case, Father Columcil.  I hope you don't need to use it."

"So do I," Columcil replied, "but I will if I must."

Darcy stood at the ready, uncertain whether he should stay with his companions or go after Sir Washburn.  After all, Washburn had said "Let me go first," not "Wait here."

The sound of a startled horse made up his mind.  "Keep her safe, Father," Darcy said as he drew his sword and darted toward the barn.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#335
Master Rayne was furious with himself. Where was that dagnabbit trinket Lord Oswald had given him? The lady was nearly within his grasp. He was certain to capture her tonight. The lady had remained in that poor disguise of her brother, whom Rayne knew full well was long dead these past weeks. She would find a way to sleep in a seperate room from the rest. Lord Buckley's steward had already assured Rayne that he would give Lord Alister the corner room, the one with the passage into the secret stairs. Together the steward and he would slaughter that man-of-arms of hers and Rayne would be off with his conquest with none being the wiser until morning. Trouble was, without the drug, he would have a harder time with her. Well, he had handled feisty women before. He knew their weak points and he would use everything he knew to accomplish his task.

But then that man-at-arms walked right past him. Rayne cursed himself for being so careless as to think Lord Buckley would let one of his guests out of his sight from the main hall. Buckley was not a too brilliant fellow, even if he was a Mearan loyalist. When the man-at-arms left, he had encountered someone else outside, and then the two of them had walked away. Rayne was certain he had been compromised. He repacked his belongings in his bags fast, then he reached up to the saddle for his crossbow and loaded an arrow into it. He hung the loaded crossbow back on the off-side of his horse.  He tightened his horse's saddle girth back up and readied the horse to make a speedy get away, if need be. The gatekeeper already knew to open the gates for him when he was ready to leave. So that wasn't a bar to his escaping. The man would be watching out for him. Grabbing two more throwing daggers, Rayne placed one in his belt and was bending down to put one in his boot, when that lord-ling knight entered the barn.

The man must have nine lives, like a devil cat, Rayne thought. He knew Master Feyd wanted the knight alive. Why? He was too much trouble alive, better dead and out of the way, so he could get to his lord's future lady. Rayne considered his options as he hid behind his horse and watched the knight walk further down to the horses stabled there. The knight was so foolish as to turn his back on him. Foolish indeed.

Rayne brought the cross bow up and balanced it over the saddle. That wide back was an easy target. His finger pulled the trigger. Then he was moving. Horses were nayying, but he didn't look to see if he had hit his mark. He mounted up quickly and spurred his horse for the barn entrance. A throwing dagger was readily in his hand when that damned man-at-arms ran up and tried to block his path.
May your horses have wings and fly!

Jerusha

#336
Darcy Cameron ran forward and saw the horse and rider bursting forth from the stable.  The man's hand was raised, and Darcy barely had time to see the moonlight flash off the dagger's blade.

Roll to see if Rayne's dagger injures Darcy
19:28   derynibot   4, 1 == 5
19:29   Jerusha   !roll 2d6
Failure!

The uneven pace of the horse racing forward caused the dagger to go wide.  Darcy heard it singing past his shoulder.  Horse and rider were charging ahead; Darcy had no choice but to dive to the left.

Can Darcy avoid the charging horse?
19:29   Jerusha   !roll 2d6
19:29   derynibot   4, 2 == 6
Oops.

The horse's flank caught Darcy on his shoulder, but it was his left shoulder, and Darcy focused and swung his sword across the horse's flank, aiming for the saddle girth, as he fell to the ground.

Darcy, precise attacker, focused attack; success on 3, 4. 5, 6
19:31   Jerusha   !roll 2d6
19:31   derynibot   1, 4 == 5
Yippee

His sword struck true.  The saddle girth split, and rider and saddle spilled to the ground.  But the horse was between Darcy and the man.  Darcy rolled and gained his feet quickly, but the man was already up and running.  Darcy sprinted after him, and saw to his alarm that the man was heading straight toward Colmucil and Aliset.  Sweet Jesu, let him get the man before he could reach Aliset!

Father Columcil moved Aliset behind him and raised the dagger in defense. 

The noise in the courtyard had roused the guests within.  Lord Jaxom emerged, looking confused at the scene before him.

"Lord Jaxom," Darcy yelled.  "Stop the man! Take him down!"
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#337
Sir Washburn may have had his back turned to his adversary, a thing every fighting master warned that one should never do, yet his mind's eye was deliberately focused on every action the man behind him made.

((00:31 frogzilla (kind of a cool alias, don't you think?) Rolling for Washburn- focused sensitivity 2d6 4,5,6 success
00:32 frogzilla !roll 2d6
00:32 derynibot 3, 4 == 7  success))

The man behind him was most definitely the same man he had been sensing all afternoon as they had followed him down the valley. Wash had not seen the man in the trees, but he knew the man's life force which was filled with purpose and hate. If only he could subdue the man's mind from this distance, but the trapper's hate was strong, almost like a shield. In his sharp focus, the knight felt rather than saw the ranged weapon drawn. Wash sucked in a breath knowing the bolt was already loaded and at close range. He had but a split second to turn. He daren't duck down as then the horse would become the weapon's victim. Yet, he had to see the arrow to deflect it with his powers. He turned, breaking his deep focus in the instant that the twange of the crossbow released it's bolt.

((00:31 frogzilla Rolling for Washburn's unfocused Telekansis 2d6 success on 5,6 
00:32 frogzilla !roll 2d6
00:32 derynibot 3, 4 == 7, failure))

That split-second of turning stole his opportunity to Push the bolt away. The projectile was a blur as it flew toward the knight.

((13:47 frogzilla Laurna is rolling for Rayne using his crossbow on Washburn at close range 3d6 success on 5,6.
13:47 frogzilla !roll 3d6
13:47derynibot 4, 2, 4 == 10
13:48 frogzilla Rayne missed Washburn.))

It was only sheer luck that the projectile missed its mark. The mettle point skimmed the black tunic of his shoulder.

((00:34 frogzilla Does the bolt hit an animal? 5,6 hit
00:34 frogzilla !roll 2d6
00:34 derynibot 2, 2 == 4 failed))

The bolt Flew clear over Spean's shorter back. It skimmed across the hairs on the rump of the black stallion, causing the war horse to jump and squeal like he had been bitten by an animal. With a thud, the arrowhead embedded itself in the partition between the horse stalls.

"Curses!"  The trapper was getting away! Nothing for it until Shadow was calmed, else the great beast would splinter the stall apart in his panic to be free.  Wash dodged around Columcil's pony, freed the lead rope tying Shadow to the railing.  He yanked the rope down stopping the stallion from a full rearing up. A hoof kicked out, missing Washburn's chest. The knight yanked the rope again. This time he was able to touch a calming hand to the great black's nose.

((01:36 frogzilla Washburn's Rapport with Shadow- does the horse calm instantly Advantage roll for the long time established report between rider and horse.
01:36 frogzilla !roll 3d6
01:36 derynibot 5, 4, 2 == 11))

The Lendour knight established the rapport he had long ago trained into his favored mount. Shadow settled with a knicker and a few backward steps and then willingly was led forward to be tied securely, once more.

There was noise in the courtyard. Anxiously , Wash ran after the fleeing trapper. He feared he would be too late to assist in the action sounding off ahead of him.
May your horses have wings and fly!

Jerusha

"Lord Jaxom," Darcy yelled.  "Stop the man! Take him down!"

Lord Jaxom Trillick gave Darcy a startled look, not comprehending why Lord Alister's man-at-arms had his sword drawn and was chasing after another man in the courtyard. "Sweet Jesu," Jaxom muttered when he realized the priest was standing with a dagger to face the man, who was quickly closing the distance between them.  Lord Jaxom drew his own sword and moved forward.

Darcy saw Lord Jaxom finally react, but he feared it would be too late.  The man he was chasing stooped down and grabbed a dagger tucked into his boot.  It caused him to slow his pace, but would it be enough?

As the man raised the dagger to throw it at Father Columcil, Darcy put all his energy into a burst of speed.

Will Darcy catch Rayne in time to stop the throw
Jerusha   !roll 2d6
12:08   derynibot   5, 6 == 11
Success!

Darcy slashed the man's side with his sword, cutting through the man's tunic and into flesh and bone.  The man stumbled, and Darcy grabbed for his arm.

Will Darcy disarm him
12:09   Jerusha   !roll 2d6
12:09   derynibot   1, 2 == 3
Failure.

Darcy grabbed the man's arm and twisted, but Rayne did not release the knife.  Instead he twisted his own body, trying to trip the smaller man and send him to the ground.

Will Rayne trip Darcy
Jerusha   !roll 2d6
12:32   derynibot   2, 2 == 4
Failure!

Darcy moved in closer to restrict the man's movement, deliberately digging his elbow into Rayne's injured side.  Lord Jaxom, reaching them at last, forced the dagger from Rayne's grip.  Darcy twisted Rayne's arm behind his back and forced him to his knees.

Darcy's chest was heaving from the exertion.  He wanted to ask Lord Jaxom why it had taken him so bloody long to do something.  Instead, in between gasps, he said, "Lord Jaxom, much obliged; well done."
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#339
Lord Jaxom had barely scuffed his tunic as he had wrestled the dagger away from the captive's hand, yet he gave it a brush and a straightening before he waved his two armsmen, who had followed him out into the courtyard, to secure the man twisting to get away from Master Darcy.  Jaxom nodded to the navigation's officer taking his praise without a second thought. It was well known that ships officers had to be good at grappling down bigger men, else-wise mutiny would be more prevalent. Darcy was just doing his job. Belatedly, Jaxom, realized he had to reward lord Alister's man-at-arms with a return praise. "Thank you for apprehending this attacker. What was he after?"

The eyes of the captive had been staring at the priest and the lord just out of reach. At Jaxom's question the man's eyes turned away. It was Jaxom's turn to look over at the old priest and the young lord. A queer look crossed Jaxom's features. Why was it that the old priest, with not but a dagger, stood in protection of the lord whom had recently made knighthood; wasnt that just this last twelfth-night? Lord Alister did indeed have his dagger in his hand, but not his sword. Jaxom realized for the first time that Alister hadn't ever even carried a sword. No knight would have walked freely without sword at his side. Even if he had lost it, just has Sir Washburn had nearly lost his to that captured man Phyre earlier this day ((yes it is still the same day as than)), a real knight would have commandeered a weapon from a guardsman. It was the right of nobility.

Suddenly, the name Washburn had used earlier this day, the name Aliset, stung Lord Jaxom's mind. Wasn't Alister a twin and wasn't his sister's name, Aliset. The reason for the discomfort of his dining companion at the high table came clear. Lord Jaxom gave a wide smile to the young man standing at the back side of the old priest. The lady of de Mariot is said to be a beauty. He imagined just what hid behind those brown eyes.

"Let us get this man into the presence of the lords in the hall. His Grace, I am sure will want to know the meaning of this assault." As Lord Jaxom assessed the courtyard for any other altercations, he nodded to Sir Washburn, who was just stepping out from the barn. The knight was nodding agreement to going back to the main hall, even as he slipped his dagger back into his belt sheath. The trouble was secured, for now.
May your horses have wings and fly!

revanne

#340
Lord Jaxom made his way proudly into the hall but made a deferential enough bow to Lord Buckley and a deep obeisance before the Duke of Corwyn before signalling to his men at arms to force their captive to his knees in front of the high table.

"Your Grace, My Lord. I found this man engaged in violent affray in the courtyard, and I believe that without my timely appearance the good Father here would have likely been run through. Is that not so, Father?"

Columcil nodded curtly, not thinking it seemly to contradict a member of the nobility in front of His Grace. Inwardly though, he seethed. Yes,  Lord Jaxom had been the one to finally bring their tormentor down, but yet again he could not help but feel that Darcy had been treated unfairly by this lordling. Columcil wanted to Mind speak Darcy in commiseration ((2+2 =4 3gh00h4qz5)) or to reach out in the same way to Washburn to beg him to speak up for the man-at-arms (( roll advantage for all the good it did 3+4+4=11)) but, aware of Lord Brackley and Duke Kelric's eyes upon him, he feared that he could not produce the necessary focus without appearing to be vacant and ill-mannered. To be thought of as a drunken sot was bad enough, he had no wish to add insolence to his list of sins, still less be publicly rebuked for it. Perhaps in a moment of quiet, if one ever came, he could ask Lady Aliset to help him slip into rapport without making it so obvious.

As he thought of her, the look that Lord Jaxom had given to Sir Alister in the yard flashed back into his mind and its meaning hit him. Dear God, no! The man knew that they had been riding in company with a young unmarried woman. Blessed Saints! The damage a man with mischief on his mind could do with that knowledge.

His thoughts were interrupted as those around him sank again into obeisance and he hurriedly bent his knee with the rest. Duke Kelric had risen from his seat and walked rapidly around the table to join them, beckoning several of his men to draw their bows and be ready to aim at the prisoner, and distractedly waving a end to the varying gestures of respect. Columcil felt sure that the Duke was Mindspeaking his brother though he listened with apparently full attention to Lord Jaxom as the latter gave his report. Quite casually Duke Kelric placed his hand on Darcy's arm to draw him into the conversation, a gesture that Jaxom could hardly object to, as in fairness to the man he had made passing reference to Darcy's actions. Columcil was again sure that more was happening than met the eye, as Darcy stood a little straighter and prouder, and he began to feel ashamed of his somewhat grudging respect towards the Duke.

"I trust you are recovered from both your indisposition and the violence you have witnessed, Father?"

Columcil had not expected to be directly addressed and he felt himself colouring. "Aye, Your Grace." Something seemed to compel him to lift his bowed head and dare to look into the Duke's eyes, where he saw, - did he see?- the very slightest suspicion of a wink. Praying desperately that he was not about to make a terrible mistake he bowed over the Duke's hand and brushed it with his lips.

His voice said "Thank ye for your concern, Your Grace."

((Columcil Mindspeaks Duke Kelric rolled disadvantage 5. 12c4gglhm5))

His mind said "Your Grace, I fear I am breaking confidence but there is something you should know."

"If it is about the Lady Aliset, I already know. Is there something more?"

"Sir Jaxom kens. I dinna ken how, but he kens awreet."

"I trust you in this, though that's a complication we don't need. You see a lot for a 'drunken old priest'. That was quick thinking out there.". As Columcil straightened, relieved and pleased to have been so commended he felt the Duke's gaze upon him and briefly met it, unaware that his amber eyes were flashing with emotion.

Something jiggled at the back of Duke Kelric's mind triggered by that voice that became broader in its speech with emotion and those unusual eyes, but there was no time to pursue it. He wished that he had had the opportunity to contact Kelson, the man kneeling sullen and silent at his feet was at home here and it seemed unlikely that his actions and loyalty could be totally unknown to the Lord of the manor. He took a deep breath, in truth he already knew that the King would not want him to publicly accuse one of his barons of being complicit in treason even if only by passive collusion. Not this side of the border, at least not yet. His hand went instinctively to his father's St Camber medallion which never left his neck and closed around it as Kelric prayed that Lord Buckley would not betray himself not yet be betrayed by his underling.  and thus force the issue.

He turned back to Lord Buckley who had risen as the Duke did and remained standing, his face impassive.

"My Lord, do you have somewhere private to secure this man? I think he will have much to tell us."

Did Lord Buckley turn a shade paler? It was hard to tell. At any rate he gave no hint as he replied,

"Of course, your Grace. If you would give the order for the prisoner to be brought, I will lead the way." Lord Buckley included both Lord Jaxom and Duke Kelric in his words but at a sign from the Duke it was his own men who took charge of Rayne, pausing to tie his hands behind his back and loosely tie his feet so that he could still walk but with difficulty. Kelric glanced at the bowmen to follow but when Lord Jaxom made to follow stayed him with a look which then moved towards Washburn.

"My Lord Washburn, would you attend us in this?"






God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
(Psalm 46 v1)

Jerusha

#341
Darcy Cameron was quietly pleased at the chagrined look on Lord Jaxom's face.  The man was a peacock; prettily dressed and utterly annoying.

Now that Duke Kelric and the others had left the hall, people began to move about, some gathering in small groups to speculate on what had happened in the courtyard.  Darcy saw more than one man glance in their direction, then look away.  Belatedly, Darcy realized that his tunic was stained with blood, again.

Aliset had also noticed.  "I hope that's not your blood, Master Darcy," she said, looking concerned.

"Nay, it's not mine," he reassured her.  "But I seem to be a bit hard on my clothes."

Father Columcil snorted and Aliset managed a smile.  Darcy was about to suggest they sit down at the table when he saw that Lord Jaxom was heading toward them.  There was no polite way to avoid him, and Darcy contemplated doing something impolite but thought better of it.

"Lord Alister," Jaxom said as he reached them.  "After that fight in the courtyard, I could use some refreshment.  Would you join me back up at the high table for more of Lord Buckley's mead?"

Sweet Jesu, Darcy thought.  Hasn't Lady Aliset been through enough without having to endure more of Lord Buckley's ghastly mead?

Jaxom motioned toward the high table as he spoke, making his intention clear to the rest of the room.  Aliset hesitated a moment, then nodded, unwilling to offend him, at least this time.

Jaxom smiled and allowed Lord Alister to precede him.  There was something about his smile that Darcy did not like.  Before Lord Alister could be seated, one of the Corwyn guards returned and said something to him.  The young Lord nodded and preceded the man from the room.  Again Lord Jaxom attempted to follow, but he was waived back.
 
Father Columcil tapped Darcy lightly on the arm.  "We might as well be seated ourselves."  Darcy nodded absently and sat beside him.  "Can you lower your shields a wee bit?"  Columcil asked quietly.  "There is something you should know."  Columcil moved his hand so it barely touched Darcy's on the table. 

Darcy gave slight nod, and after a moment of concentration, rolled back his shields.  It was not as easy this time; he had not realized how solid they had become during what had recently transpired.

The "sound" of the priest's words in his mind was odd, but not uncomfortable. Lord Jaxom knows she is Lady Aliset and not her brother.  I don't know how, but he knows.  I have informed his Grace.

Roll to see if Darcy can mind speak
Jerusha   !roll 1d6
17:36   derynibot   2 == 2
Sigh....

The implications of Columcil word's alarmed Darcy enough that his shields snapped back into place. "Sorry, Father, I didn't mean for that to happen."

"I understand, son; this new development concerns me as well."

Now that Columcil no longer spoke directly into his mind, Darcy resisted the temptation to shake his head the same way a wet dog shakes. He supposed he would have to get used to this new form of magic. "We'll need to ensure we keep a close watch to ensure her safety.  I don't trust him," Darcy said in a low voice. 

Father Columcil nodded, but wondered how they could keep a closer watch on Lady Aliset than Darcy already kept.  Darcy wondered if he should attempt to follow Aliset, but since she had been summoned by one of the Duke's men, he decided to remain, carefully watching, his senses alert for any sign of trouble.

((Edited to put Aliset in the right place at the right time.))
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#342
Nine men filed into the private room at the back of the great hall. Lord Buckley, the first to enter, stepped all the way to the back of the room to stand beside his working-table.  Duke Kelric followed, yet he choose to stand near the hearth at the side, his back warming with the low fire. Washburn and Lord Alister respectfully followed the duke to stand at his side. Two of Lord Buckley's men stood to either side of the entrance; one of these men was the Steward Dolin of the Buckley Hall. 

((Washburn Rapport 2d6  success on 5,6   rolled 1: 3 + 6 = 9   Verification Number: 3kw1kqt97r))

From the moment he had entered the hall after the altercation in the courtyard, Sir Washburn and been passing along snippets of information through the brother's well established rapport. His Grace was therefore informed of all that his brother knew about the man whom the Corwyn guards, entering last, pulled non-to-willingly into the center of the room. Once there, they forced him to his knees. The trapper's gaze had locked onto those of the manor lord's for just a instant, almost pleadingly, but he was met with a hard look of castigation.  Then after, the prisoner looked only at the black knight with a seething hatred.

Lord Buckley was the first to speak out. "If you will allow it, your grace. I can have my steward beat whatever answers you need out of this man. You needn't waste your valuable efforts on such as he."

The duke considered the manor lord's request for just a moment before shaking his head. "Under normal circumstances, I would allow you to do just that, Lord Buckley," Kelric replied, "The trouble being that nothing about any of this is normal."

Sir Washburn got a mental request from his brother to prepare himself for the interrogation.  Washburn stepped forward to stand over the accused man. As was the duke's right, he choose to preeminent the authority over the lord in his own home. Washburn knew his brother would never have done so had he but trusted Lord Buckley. "I believe this business is a concern of the King's, I would know what this man knows. As lord of the manor, I request you to bare witness to all that is said and done here. I trust that you will not object to what I consider a necessary means of discovering the truth.  I am sure you are aware that I and my brother have ... certain abilities... which allow the questioning of this man to be both painless and informative. I am looking for justice, are not you also?"

Lord Buckley had very little control over the situation, he knew it full well. He inclined his head in agreement with the duke. "I will thank you for allowing me to witness your questioning of this man," the manor lord said.  "Proceed."

Did Wash just see lord Buckley's hand tighten on the edge of his desk. Wash was quite glad he had not given up his sword when he had entered the hall this time.

Kelric turned his full attention on the prisoner. "In the name of King Kelson of Gwynedd, I stand in judgement of the accused. Have you anything to say before we begin?" the Duke questioned. The prisoner's lips remained pursed together, he offered nothing, his dark eyes burning with hatred.

"Sir Washburn..." the duke gave the questioning over to Wash. Let us refrain from questions that might implicate our host, Kelric mind spoke. I don't relish the idea of fighting our way out of here.

I understand and concur, Washburn replied in kind.

((Washburn Truth-Saying the Huntsman  2d6  success on 5,6   rolled  2: 5 + 6 = 11 Verification Number: 3kw1kqt97r))

The Knight of Lendour looked straight at Rayne. In that minute. the trapper thought he was going to lose his soul. He started to object to the Deryni's touch, when he found that even without being touched, he could make no such objection. The hated Deryni didn't need to touch him to capture his gaze and his mind.  Rayne tried desperately to look away, only to find himself drowning in the knight's intense sea blue eyes.

"Tell the duke your name and position?" the knight asked with a quiet calmness that was disconcerting.

"Rayne Lanackie, master huntsman." Rayne found himself saying, unable to disobey.
A series of short questions followed asking pointedly about the setting of leg traps near the church graveyard, and caltrops set on the ground along the valley road. With each question, Rayne could only say "Yes," as if he were a raven calling for scraps of food.

"What was your purpose for setting these traps?" the knight finally asked.

Rayne wanted to hesitate to not answer at all. It was not a yes or no answer and surely he could get around it in some fashion of blathering a nonsensical excuse.  But then the blue eyes held him and he could but only comply. "To injure the king's men, to delay them."

The knight's eyes only intensified all the more. "What is the reason that you needed to delay the king's men?"

"To capture the girl." Rayne spit out. He would have turned to Lord Alister if he at all could turn away from the knights questioning.

"Whom do you work for?" The knight asked quickly, avoiding the question of what girl.

Rayne so wanted to blurt out the girl's secrete and let shame fall upon her head, but he could do no more than answer the posed question. "Baron Oswald de Mariot!"

The Deryni's gaze burrowed deeper into Rayne's soul and Rayne hated him all the more for it. "Did you shot me with a crossbow bolt?" the knight suddenly asked.

"Yes!" Venom filled that one word like the bit of a snake. There was a gasp from someone in the room. They probably just understood what had been the cause of Sir Washburn's ripped and soiled clothes.

"Did you shot me when I was in the tree, yesterday?"

"No." came a regretful reply.

"No?" the knight looked away for a moment, yet his gaze returned before Rayne could blink.

"Did you shoot your crossbow at me on the Cuiltrien road, near the town of Droghera?"

"Yes," Rayne offered, "Twice!" he announced, clearly pleased with his accomplishment.

Washburn shook his head, pushing past the memory of that pain. He turned to look at the duke for instruction. Clearly, Lanackie had confessed enough to get himself hung, but certainly that wasn't all the man was guilty of. Can you glean Oswald's plans? Kelric asked. Washburn most certainly didn't like that this trapper job was to capture "the girl" for the usurper of the manor of Mariot. He wouldn't want to pursue a line of questioning which might bring Lady Aliset's secrete into play, certainly not in front of Lord Buckley. If Lord Buckley was complicit in these acts, the lord couldn't learn that "the girl" in question was standing right here beside them.

((Washburn Rapport continuing Truth-Saying 2d6  success on 5,6   rolled 3: 2 + 6 = 8 Verification Number: 3kw1kqt97r))

Washburn was careful how he phrased his next question. "Do you receive money from Oswald de Mariot; the man who has become Baron de Mariot?"

"Yes."

"In your duties to Lord Oswald de Mariot, have you killed any man, woman, or child?"

"Yes!" Wash saw a burning fever in the hunter's eyes. Deryni Truth-Saying forced the man to answer honestly, but it didn't mean that the huntsman did not know that he was betraying himself and his master. Lanackie wanted so very much to see the death of the man who questioned him.

"Can you name this man you have killed. And name any others that have died by your hand?

Suddenly a flood gate of names, rolled off of Lanackie's tongue. Names that Washburn tucked away in his memory, most were guardsman and merchants, but then the name Baron de Mariot crossed the huntsman's lips, quickly followed by the name, Baylyn de Mariot. Washburn knew Baylyn to be the eldest brother and first heir to Lady Aliset's father. 

Washburn was horrified by the names. The one name he was grateful not to hear was Alister de Mariot.  But then he already knew Alister had been murdered by that other man, the one they had encountered their first day on the road.

"There was another man tracking us that day we left Culdi. Give me his name?"

"Master MacInnis."

"Was he under Oswald's order's."

"No," Lanackie answered truthfully.

"Humm, you sure? Where does MacInnis's loyalties lie?"

"Royal princess of Meara." That took Washburn by surprise. He looked up at his brother.  What had he stumbled onto?

"The royal house of Meara is extinct." the duke stated, he stepped forward, focusing on truth saying the prisoner himself, preparing to mind read the man to get an answer.  "Which princess is this that you refer to?"

"Princess Sida..." the name was swallowed by a throat full of blood, which erupted from the prisoner's mouth. It soaked the hem of Kelric's tunic and boots. The Corwyn men who held the prisoner were slow to react holding the body up from falling forward. Washburn was instantly out of his focus and staring across at Lord Buckley's steward, whose sword point was exiting Master Lanackie's chest. Washburn's own sword was instantly drawn, using the point to push the man away from the prisoner. Kelric's own dagger was in his hand, turning to protect himself if Lord Buckley attacked.

The lord of the manor, moved not from his place. He merely gave his steward a barely seen node, then yelled, "What is the meaning of this? Dolin what have you done?"

Steward Dolin, jumped Sir Washburn. The weight of Dolin's body rammed into Washburn's unmoving sword. The sharpness cutting from breast plate to spine.

((Edited last sentence to be more clear that it was Dolin skewered by Washburn's sword.))
May your horses have wings and fly!

Evie

Lady Aliset, still wearing the guise of her late brother (though it was anyone's guess how much longer that disguise would serve her), leaped forward as the body slumped to the ground before Sir Washburn, ostensibly in an instinctive move to catch the dead steward's body, but the swift movement provided cover for her to both make contact with the slain man and establish a brief contact with the knight beside her. 

((12:07   Aliset   !roll 2d6
12:07   derynibot   4, 3 == 7 ))

As she caught Steward Dolin's falling body, she attempted to establish a rapport with Wash, but he seemed preoccupied.  Understandably so, under the circumstances! Perhaps he was already in rapport with His Grace.  But for whatever reason, she could not make the required psychic contact, and if she couldn't reach his mind despite the familiarity between them engendered by the events of the past week, she had little hope of establishing rapport with the Duke himself, standing beyond his brother.

It was up to her, then, to do what must be done, unpalatable though it was to her to delve deeply not just into a dying mind, but that belonging to her brother's murderer. Yet they must discover who was the driving force behind all the enmity that had been brought against not just her family, but now against all the companions who accompanied her.

((12:08   Aliset   !roll 2d6
12:08   derynibot   2, 5 == 7))

Aliset pushed her mental probe deeply into the dying man's mind, sifting for information about the Mearan princess that Rayne had mentioned in that brief moment before the steward had taken the life of Oswald's henchman.  The steward must have wanted to protect that information at all costs; therefore it stood to reason he also had known the information which she and her companions needed.

There it was!  Dolin had never actually laid eyes on the Mearan claimant himself, but he knew of her existence and her name. The Princess Sidana Quinnell de Paor, descended from some heretofore unsuspected daughter of the late Ithel of Meara.  De Paor....Oh, now there was a surname familiar enough to one whose manor was on Trurill lands!  And seen in the distance in one memory, a castle situated on a mountain top high in the Mearan range where those loyal to the ancient Mearan line were being called to muster.  She tucked the image away for further reflection, certain she could identify it later. If not her, then perhaps one of her companions could.

Who had the steward been answerable to? Who was his direct link to the Pretender's throne, since it appeared he'd had no direct contact with the Pretender himself?  Even as Aliset tried to gather that information, the man's remaining memories dispersed into foggy darkness.

Aliset lay the man's body on the ground and straightened, absently wiping his blood off her hands. She glanced at Sir Washburn with a faint nod, but decided it would be better to wait for more privacy before attempting to share what she'd learned. She did not trust Lord Buckley.
"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

#344
"Demon's and Hellions, will the Devil never be sated," Sir Washburn cursed under his breath. Two dead men lay at Washburn's feet, when just moments before, he had thought he had complete control of the situation. He'd been utterly wrong. Had he put all their lives in danger? His brother's life too? Lord Alister was absently wiping the blood off her hands after she'd laid the steward's fallen body on the floor. Alister's nod told Sir Washburn that she had achieved some form of Death Reading in the brief seconds that she had made contact. First things first, they had to survive this debacle and not be ambushed by Lord Buckley's men.

Washburn Morgan was quick to assume a guarding stance in front of the Duke of Corwyn. His sword at the ready and his dagger in his off hand. No matter the odds he would protect his brother and his friends from any foe. The two Corwyn guards were quick to follow suit. They left the body of Rayne Lanackie on the floor and stood protective from anyone who might enter the room. They, however, had no more than long daggers to hold in tense hands. Stay between the guards and me if we have to fight our way out, Wash sent to both Kelric and Aliset.

Yet Kelric was already sheathing his dagger. His face as serious as Washburn had ever seen the Duke of Corwyn be.  Kelric was watching Lord Buckley from his periphery, trying hard not to walk straight over to the man and Mind Read him. He knew he dared not. Without looking up from the bodies on the floor he asked, "Please, tell me, Lord Buckley, that you knew nothing of this man," he pointed to Rayne Lanachie, "nor of your henchman's allegiance?" Everything hinged on Lord Buckley's response, would he play his part? Would he act shocked and dumbfounded by his steward's actions even if he was not? Would he lie to the duke? Kelric wished that he did so. Honor be damned, an admission of treason would lead to a bloodbath in the halls of Buckley manor. The victor uncertain.

Lord Buckley's face twisted. He may not be the smartest man, but his family had lived between two politically varied lands for centuries. In secrete their allegiances may have swayed back and forth from generation to generation. But for survival, they had learned how to lie and how to lie well. Lord Buckley put his hands in the air and dropped to one knee. "All that I know of that man is that he came here yesterday eve. He bunked in the gate house and left in the early morn. i did not know that he had returned this evening." Kelric accepted that, for some of that was said in truth. Buckley did play his part as he said. "Steward Dolin's actions have me flabbergasted! How could I have known he harbored such alliances?"

"How, indeed." Kelric agreed hearing the lie beneath the words. But outwardly accepting them at face value. "Then you know nothing of this Princess of Meara?"

"I know nothing, Your Grace. You must believe me."

"I think that I must," the duke said, knowing all was a lie. He motioned for Lord Buckley to rise. "At ease men." Kelric indicated outwardly, but inwardly he said We are a lion in a trap! Make it look good, but don't You ease up for one moment" he sent to Washburn and Aliset.
May your horses have wings and fly!