Session Ninety-One - May 19, 2012

Wherein the ongoing story of the FtF campaign may be found ...

Session Ninety-One - May 19, 2012

Postby Matt » Mon Apr 15, 2013 11:38 pm

Kelen 22, 732

A cold rain, almost sleet, knifed into Tashal. Still the White Ravens drilled and sparred on the common. “The foe will give them no quarter for the weather,” muttered their sergeant Tora. The mustering date for the army was eight days away, and every hour of practice might mean the difference between glory or ignominy.

Onlookers joked about the terrified expression on the face of Tora’s charges. When she heard one man compare the Ravens to a bunch of piglets under a sow, she charged the mocker, forcing him to flee the common. Then she surveyed his companions, staring them down, before returning to her duty.

At Raven Hall, Sir Ewen and Sir Baris decided to make it their business to learn more about Dragoran Shengaad, the mysterious northern wizard.

“We know where he is. But how can we secure him?” Sir Ewen mused.

“Perhaps Cekiya could steal into his room and club him, after which I could haul him in a cart to Dickon House for interrogation?” Sir Baris answered.

“As Good a plan as any. See to it.”

Ewen scribbled a note to Dickon to prepare for an unwilling guest, and gave it to Cekiya.

“If I’m captured, should I eat this with jam or marmalade?” asked Cekiya.

“If you get caught, my dear, I expect you to eat them,” Ewen said.

After Baris and Cekiya left, Sir Ewen attempted to scry upon the Earl of Vemion. He had a vision of the Earl, not alone, in the woods. There was another noble-looking man with him, attended by hounds. It seemed the Earl was hunting – a peaceful, pastoral scene, suitable to be embroidered on a tapestry.

Sir Baris, needing a cart, assumed his old base identity of “Karl.” He was thrilled; it had been far too long since he had been able to indulge his nostalgie de la boue, and he donned his threadbare ratcatcher’s cloak with joy. Hearing a rip as he pulled it across his broad shoulders, he cried, “Damn, another one! Must be all that archery practice.” He left Raven Hall and walked to Mangai Square, with the idea of finding a produce seller or the like.

The square seemed even more crowded than normal. New stalls were being erected, even along the side streets, and there seemed to be something odd about the newcomers. Baris approached the keeper of one fresh stall, and inquired about renting the porter’s cart. The porter pointed out that he needed the cart, and asked for some collateral before handing over a vital part of his operation. ‘Karl’ opined that as a ratcatcher, he needed a to transport a lot of rats as there was a growing business in rat skins.

“Why don’t you make a new cloak?” inquired the vendor.

Baris paused. “Hey! That’s a good idea!”

For a moment, they discussed that various other uses for rats: food, string, etc.

After a time, Baris asked, “Can I rent your cart?”

“How do I know if you would be back with it? I could sell it to you.”

“Oh that’s a good idea. How much?”

The vendor regarded the cart for a moment, and then said, “Well, it is a little worn. I could let it go for 48d.”

“Well how about 30,” Baris countered.

“What? They normally go for 72!”

“Well then 37.”

“That’s not really coming up.”

“40d”

“Ok, but then you need to split the difference.”

“But you didn’t make a counter offer!”

“I’m teaching you something here kid. This is a life lesson.”

Baris, not quite sure about that, quietly offered 44d.

“There you go! I counter with 47, and you say 46 … sold!”

Baris now carried away yells, “46, sold!”

“Well done!”

As Baris pushed his new asset away, he realized why the newcomers seemed strange: their accent was Melderyni. The Genin Caravan must have arrived. Having nothing else to do until his nighttime rendezvous with Cekiya, Baris sat down on the cart and opened his ears for news. He talks with one merchant who seemed very concerned about the viking invasion. Eventually he purchased a load of hay to make his cart look more convincing, and hauled it to Dragoran’s place.

Tora finished her daily drill with the White Ravens and herded them all to the Elf & Dwarf for brandy.

“You’re getting better!” she declared to her unwilling charges. They accepted the brandy better than the compliment given their deep fear and hatred of Tora. Eventually, after a truly awkward time had passed, she dismissed them, noting with some annoyance that she had never seen them hustle like that on the field.

Tora continued to sip her own spirit and wondered where Sir Baris was. For a moment she worried, but then calmed herself. Really, what could he be doing? Hopefully, not degrading his dignity.

Cekiya was entering the Tower Inn at this time. She was unsure what to expect. From the evidence, it seemed her prey was a Shek P’var, not a Deryni. She opened the undefended latch and crept inside. The room was bare of anything save a bed. The shutters were unlatched. Cekiya exchanged signals with the waiting Baris below. Then she jumped on the bed, because she could, lightly flipped off, and scuttled underneath to wait.

‘Karl’ kept vigil outside. After an afternoon and an evening of waiting in place, he was sick of this. Finally, the man described to him returned. Sir Baris killed time pretending to look for rats.

In the room, Cekiya saw two shadows outside the door. The latch lifted, and the door opened. Two boots. But the person did not enter the room immediately. After surveying the area, he sidled in toward the door. He worked around the bed , never coming within knife range, and back, returning to the open door, near the corner, facing the bed.

After about five minutes, he said “I know you’re under there.”

“Go find your own room,” Cekiya replied.

“This is my room”

“No, this is my room.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, that’s good! I don’t want to hurt you either. I just wanted a nap.”

“Have you napped?”

“I just got here.”

“Find someplace else to nap.”

Cekiya came out from under the bed. “I thought this was my ro …”

The wizard pointed his finger at her. Pain lanced into her head. She had no idea there was this kind of pain in the world. She screamed and collapsed.

Baris heard the scream, but, having never heard Cekiya scream, didn’t realize it was her. A half hour later, he grew worried. He poked his head into the common room of the inn; Dragoran wasn’t there. He crept up and listened at Dragoran’s door, now shut. No sound. Baris drew his dagger and kicked the door in. Cekiya lay on the floor, alone. The room was empty. Baris picked up his companion, threw some coins on the bed, and ran. The crowd in the common room were not unaware of his passage. Baris said “Damn, that boy is in so much trouble!,” and his size did not encourage questions. Baris threw Cekiya in the cart and hied to Dickon House.

Sir Baris dropped the cart outside, seized Cekiya’s limp form, and carried her inside. Sir Ewen and Dickon, waiting in the main room, jumped to their feet.

“What happened?” said Sir Ewen. “Where’s Dragoran?”

“I don’t know!” said Sir Baris. “I never saw him. I found her like this, in an empty room.”

Taking hold of the slight woman’s temples, Sir Ewen attempted to discover what had happened to Cekiya. As he entered her mind, the venom of a thousand adders shot into his veins. He broke the connection.

“Should we put her to bed, my lord?” Dickon asked.

“Yes,” Ewen moaned. “And watch her. She must be watched.”

Dickon ordered his men to carry her to a bed. Ewen dragged himself back to a table and sank a pint to kill the lingering pain. Dragoran had escaped; that was clear. His success rankled, but Sir Ewen had no desire to throw good resources after bad. After all, he and the wizard had the same goal – the overthrow of the Kingdom of Kaldor.

Kelen 23, 732

As dawn broke, so did Cekiya. The memory of the pain was such, she emitted a blood-curdling scream, waking the household as an alarum. Dickon, sword drawn and in his nightclothes, was shocked to find nothing.

Cekiya stopped screaming. She began to hum, and rose from her bed. She tripped a light jig, like a maiden on a festival day. Deep in madness, she found comfort. She sang:

Run and catch, run and catch, the lamb is caught in the blackberry patch.

“Go get Sir Ewen. Fast!” Dickon ordered the nearest men. The remaining men treat Cekiya like a fragile china cup.

A pounding on the door of Raven Hall. The annoyed majordomo woke Sir Ewen, who ordered him to also retrieve Kaelyn. Kaelyn had no idea what this could be. The pair quickly dressed and left with Dickon’s messengers.

Upon arrival, Sir Ewen again attempted to rapport with her and implant a suggestion that she should be silent and return to Raven Hall with him. Though he avoided the pain on this attempt, he still saw nothing. He made for the door and discovered that Cekiya mimicked his every move. She followed him back to Raven Hall. When Ewen arrived, he found the servants arranging breakfast in the Great Hall. He sat down in his chair, trying to think, and Cekiya attempted to sit in the same chair with him. Disconcerted, Ewen moved, followed by the mad little adder. He ordered all out of the chamber, and sat down on one of the table’s benches. Cekiya sat down next to him, as close as she could. She followed his every move, as closely as possible. Ewen picked up a fork, she picked up a fork. Ewen scratched his chin, she scratched her chin. Ewen attempted to move the salt cellar telekinetically, to see if that would distract her, but it failed to move. Finally Ewen once again tried to rapport with her and discover the source of her odd behavior. Instead of Cekiya’s mind, he met with a wall of blackness, which engulfed him. He slumped to the floor of the Hall, unconscious. Cekiya slumped right next to him, paralleling his position. This was how Walin and the servants found them twenty minutes later, when they finally worked up the courage to see what was happening.

A cup of cold water was tossed onto Ewen’s face. He came up sputtering, and shouted the only thing he could think to say: “Why is breakfast taking so damn long?”

The remainder of the month passed. Tora continued to drill the White Ravens. Cekiya’s catatonia wore off within two days. Sir Ewen and Rahel coordinate their mirrors and scheduled contact times. Sir Baris spent extensive time with Elsa, getting something to remember her by before he went marching off to war. Kaelyn learned a new spell: Attune. Filen was busy co-coordinating the logistics of Sir Ewen’s force when, in the course of his duties, he was struck by a reckless teamster. Unconscious and with broken bones, he was taken to the Peonian hospital. Sir Ewen visited, and Filen apologized profusely for his inability to perform his duties. Sir Ewen no longer had an aide-de-camp.

During this time, Sir Ewen retained Rathbar’s Raiders for £10 monthly with a two month commitment. He was also finally able to rapport the child in Thilisa’s womb and was heartily pleased to see he had another son in the making.

On the 26th, the Salt Route caravan crawled into town and set up its traditional camp on the west bank of the Kald. Its arrival did nothing to soothe the anxiety of the merchant community. With each passing day, they grew more panicked. Not because the Fur Caravan had not arrived (it hadn’t for three years running) but because the Silver Caravan, due on the 25th, was nowhere to be found. The Silver Caravan brought silver, gold, gems, Khuzan weapons and similar, all valuable enough, but to boot: half of the annual payment for grain and foodstuffs that Kaldor sent to Azadmere. Without that cash, the grain merchants will become insolvent. A general economic collapse beckoned.

Did the vikings seize the caravan? Did it merely turn back and would arrive later? Its route crossed at Naniom Bridge, then goes to Gardiren and hence to Tashal. The Laranians were supposed to meet them at the bridge and escort them the rest of the way. This area is nowhere near Olokand. There was no reason to assume the worst, but the merchants of Tashal perspired anyway. Every morning, every eye fixed on the Heru Road. And every morning saw nothing, but small flocks of sheep and the occasional donkey.

Nolus 1, 732

On a clear, cool morning, the army departed. Ordinarily it was little more than an hour’s ride to Heru, but at the pace of a clogged army, it took the entire day. Ewen was astonished to see even Halime on the road, in amongst the troops. The arms of many an earl and baron in Kaldor could be seen among the throng. By dusk, the campfires spread like stars.

Tora spent the day laughing. She had longed for a day like this for years. She rode up and down the line of Sir Ewen and Sir Baris’s troops, joking with the men. When the time to camp came, she made sure everything went smoothly.

Oddly, there were relatively few troops already in Heru. No Paladins, no royal guard, not even White Rays. Only the Baron of Kobe and Sir Ewen, comprising the van of the army, and the troops of Vemion, mustered on the appointed day. No more than seven or eight companies were encamped on South Common, an amount about equal to Sir Ewen’s force. No military police existed to direct traffic, and the forces argued for space and water. A tent flying the colors of the Baron of Kobe was already set up on the South Common. Sir Ewen gave orders to his men to set up on the East Common, near the road to the bridge. Sir Ewen’s own lay nearest the road, then the White Ravens, then the Blue Boars, and finally Rathbar’s. Tora directed the men, but did not interfere too closely, knowing that they were all professionals and were practiced in these things. She saw to it that they did not step on each others’ toes, and that no one from other forces infringed upon them. Lady Afaewynn, Sir Catham and Sir Sedris, camped alongside Sir Ewen; they would all dine together that night.

Sir Ewen’s large tent went up. It had three rooms: one large ‘great hall,’ then two side chambers. Sir Ewen took one and Lady Afaewynn the other. The remaining three knights would sleep in the great hall.

A teamster arrived with a cart full of flags. Much to Sir Ewen’s surprise, they are his new battle standard, with his new, controversial, arms. The teamster wanted to know where to put the four standards. Sir Ewen orders one planted and the other three kept in reserve for battle. He wondered idly who would be more irked: Bastune or Valador.

Once the small military town came into being, a social sphere appeared. Sir Ewen, accompanied by Sir Baris and his other knights, visited the Baron of Kobe. As they arrived at the Baron’s domicile, Sir Prehil was exiting.

“Ewen! Baris! You sons of bitches! Isn’t this great!?”

Ewen introduced Prehil to his entourage. Prehil remembered Sir Catham, saying “So, still hunting?” But he did not know Sir Sedris or Lady Afaewynn. He moved on: “Baris, you old dog! I must tell you, Baris, there is a serious matter between you and me. I tell you truly: by Sarajin’s frozen arse, I have brought Marina with me. Now, in Tashal, she’s a professional. But on this campaign, she’s retained. Just sayin’.”

“Understood,” replied Sir Baris.

“We hope to keep Sir Baris’s professional appetites satiated,” said Ewen.

“That won’t be a problem. Have you seen what’s coming up the road? Every able-bodied whore in Tashal! Those merchants are used to good living, but they won’t get any this year!”

“So an army of whores is coming our way – what about an army of men? Where’s the rest of them?”

“Diddling themselves as far I can tell! You have to understand, Ewen, the notion that everyone was going to be in Heru by today was always pie in the sky. If we march before Larane, it will be miracle.”

“Any news from the prince?” Sir Baris asked.

“Well, my father plans to send a scouting party out first thing in the morning. Old Osel hands, used to the Pagaelin and their ways. Send’em up the road and off the road, if you know what I mean. Then we’ll know what’s going on. Say, Ewen, I heard some mutterings by various merchants who had their female foundation garments in a twist about the Silver Caravan. You hear anything about that?”

“Nothing more than what you just said,” Ewen replied.

“I was thinkin’ it might not be a bad idea to go to Gardiren, see if it got there. Maybe see what Neph is up to, too.”

Ewen narrowed his eyes “How long a ride is it to Gardiren from here?”

“Oh, about a day, day and a half if it’s muddy.”

“That’s a good idea. We could probably send someone up there and back by the time the army musters. Sir Baris is a stout fellow, and keen as a stoat in a hedgerow for action.”

“That’s a brilliant idea. What say you, Sir Baris?”

“I could use a ride,” Baris said.

“Yes, but what about Gardiren?” Prehil roared.

“Er, yes,” said Baris

“But you should take someone.”

“I know just who.

“Do you feel up to leaving right now?”

“Why not? Don’t want to miss the war!”

“Stalwart! Well, off you go!”

Baris left to find Tora. She was excited to be part of the dangerous scouting mission, and they departed forthwith.

Back at the Baron of Kobe’s tent, Sir Ewen discovered the magnate was not there, he was at the castle. Ewen asked Prehil to convey to the Baron that he was at his service. Then Prehil tells Ewen that there are local whores, Sir Catham is a homosexual, and, pointing to a compound in town, that there is the Hog’s Head, the local inn, and the two of them could start there.

Sir Sedris, on the walk back, said “Sir Ewen, forgive me, but did I not hear you talking to Sir Prehil about an exploration of this fine town?”

“Your hearing is acute, Sir Sedris.”

“I’m sure it was just an accident. I have no doubt that my uncle plans to bed down for the night, but I myself am somewhat restless of sleep. I would be honored to attend you.”

Sir Baris and Tora rode into the night, following the river. By the time they reached Bidow, south of Gardiren, they were exhausted. They rested for a watch, then rose on as the sun rose.

Nolus 2, 732

At daybreak, Sir Baris and Tora met some peasants by the road, already up and walking to their fields in keeping with the time-honored custom of agricultural laborers.

“Any news from Gardiren?” Sir Baris asked.

“News, sire?” said a villein.

“Of the Silver Caravan.”

“It’s been taken, my lord! The vikings they did seize it!”

“How do you know?”

“Saw it with me own eyes, not far from here! They battered their way over the river. Some stayed behind and pinned the earl in his castle, and the rest plunged on. When I saw them return, the very plunder of the caravan filled their arms.”

“Are they still there?”

“Nay, they’ve left, back across the Shem. But the earl is afeared they’re comin’ back”

“How long ago?

“Ten days. Maybe less”

“Any news of the Knights of the Lady of Paladins?”

“Those knights be indeed passing gentle; there’s no sign of them in the fight.”

Baris gave the man a few pence. “How did the vikings treat the small folk?” he asked.

“Fearsome, my lord. They sacked the town. Didn’t burn much, but looted and stole and abused some of the women.”

“Know this: these crimes will not go unpunished. Your King is gathering forces to strike back.”

They left the peasants.

“Tora, what should we do?” asked Sir Baris.

“We should go back immediately. Neph is your enemy, and deserves none of our aid. The royal army must know what happened.” Tora was privately shocked that the Earl of Neph had so shirked his duty to King and country.

They climbed to the top of nearby Tyglin’s Hill, south of town, and commanding a prospect of the surrounding territory. From there they can see some damaged buildings in town. The castle looks intact; Neph’s arms are flying. Sir Baris can make out soldiers manning the inner walls.

There was nothing they could do. They rode back to Heru, arriving on evening of Nolus 3rd.

Back in Heru, Kaelyn went shopping. She went to the baker and purchased extra bread and various treats for the household. Prices were a touch high, but not as outrageous as they shortly would be. She spent about 200d.

Ewen and Sedris retired to the Hog’s Head, an inn with some outbuildings, a stable and what appeared to be a brewery. The place was filled with soldiers, including some of Ewen’s own men. They found Prehil already there, at a corner table.

“Ewen!” The pair joined him.

“I tell you, Ewen, if we stay here too long, I’m afraid our soldiers might get drunk.”

“Why not?” replied Ewen. “I’m hoping to get drunk myself.”

“You’re a knight, you can handle it.”

“I agree that we don’t want to be put off our mid-campaign form, but let’s sample the wares first, hey?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of scoping out the local talent. This establishment may not be the happy hunting grounds, if you take my meaning. there’s another, the Crooked Leg. It apparently refer to the proprietor-some sort of accident with some farm implement. I’ve heard rumors, just rumors mind you, of an actual brothel.”

“Perhaps we’ll sample the Hog’s Head’s drink, then head to the Crooked Leg before the talent gets distracted.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

And so they did.

Sir Sedris seems a little reserved, but as the evening wore on, he opened up. Sir Ewen tried to include him in the banter. As they made to leave for the Crooked Leg, a man at arms ran up. “Sir Prehil, I found you!”

“Why you looking for me?”

“Your noble father wishes to see you immediately!”

“All right! Ewen?

“I’m going to have to take a rain check.”

“You, bearer of bad tidings, lead the way!”

They left for the castle.

“Well, it sounded like an order to me,” said Sir Sedris.

“Let’s do our duty, shall we?”

“Are you married, Sir Ewen? I’ve never known.”

“I am. My wife is Lady Thilisa Ravinargh.”

“Oh. Oh, well. Con-congratulations!”

“Thank you, Sir Sedris.”

They repaired to the Crooked Leg. The common room was extremely raucous. Folks were singing and banging tankards and whatnot. Women were falling out everywhere.

“Feel free to enjoy yourself, Sir Sedris.”

“After you, my lord.”

Ladies swarmed the pair.

Sir Prehil never did arrive. Just before dawn, Sir Ewen and Sir Sedris staggered back to the tent. About noon, Sir Baris and Tora, covered with road dust, returned.

Nolus 3, 732

Additional troops arrived from the South, but not enough.

Sir Baris and Tora gave a full and complete report of their mission to Sir Ewen.
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Matt
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