(OOC thread is in an OOC group of mine. PM me so that I can add you to it and we can chat!)
Aftbide, once a village of little import, became the grounds of a catastrophic battle. Homes were destroyed, blood shed, weapons clattering to settle in the mud.
In the beginning, all anyone could expect was a skirmish; running off a clan of bandits who had taken the village for themselves. But as the bandits lost their nerve a new enemy was awakened. The visitant, a shadowy being clad in ancient armor, appeared at the call of the bandit chieftain and slew many, devouring the essence of those it killed to further empower itself. It shrieked in such an unholy cacophony that its coming was heralded for miles, and it shed the snow from the mountain peak north of the village.
In the confusion a warrior named Tara Faolan fought against the bandit chieftain, Grum the Pineless, to liberate the yet uncrowned king Merthyr. The chief relented but kidnapped the king's personal manservant and close companion, Taff. Soon after one of the bandit remnants, a harpy named Atoli was captured by the king's army; in her possession was baggage belonging to the new king himself.
Eventually with the help of the Knights of the People and the king's army, the monster was contained and banished, leaving nothing of itself to remain. But Grum was still at large, many of his bandits escaped and the village was in complete disarray. The king's army sent what it could to find the minotaur and his captive, to no avail. Half a fortnight, largely spent with reparation and recovery, passed quickly. Many died from their wounds in that time; many others were found already dead in the houses dotting the grounds. Sickness became a constant menace and the winter rations were all but gone. Worse yet, a pall took the skies above since the wraith's banishment, one which eventually yielded a blanket of snow upon the land.
_
Snow, blown smooth by a chilling breeze, crunched under the weight of the wounded warrior's boots. It was almost morning, when a cool twilight begun the lighting of the land the sun would soon overlook. Most people were asleep at that time, with the only exception being loyal veterans of the king's army watching over the village as one of its standing garrisons. Most of the village's local guard were gone, making it necessary for additional royal influence on the near-ruined place. They didn't mind her as she walked through the snow-coated paths, familiar with her presence as she was of their's. Yet one such guard scoffed somewhat as she passed, breaking the near-sacred silence with a quip both irritable and concerned.
"You shouldn't be out this time of night. Weren't you staying at the infirmary? You'll catch your death out here."
The warrior paused and turned to look sidelong at the concerned soldier. "Ah, nevermind that. Winter is something my people are used to." Yet the veteran seemed unconvinced.
"You can be used to it in health and still die of it in illness."
"Thank you for your concern. It'll be alright. I'm just out for a walk before the road gets busy." She nodded, face still concealed beneath her helm and aventail, before walking calmly away. The guard rested his billhook on his shoulder and rubbed his mitted hands together, cursing quietly at the cold.
And the sacred silence hung in the air again. It wasn't so much the crowd Tara disliked-- her perspective of people was generally positive-- but the noise. She could never quite calm herself in a place with a commotion, least of all one with so much chaos as the village has seen in the last week. The walk was her precious little time meditating before the noise returned and there was work to be done once again.
It didn't help that the infirmary was impossible to rest in anyway. Very few people were still in critical condition but those who were groaned every day and night, delirious from pain they might never recover from. It was not in her nature not to help, but there was very little to be done that the healers hadn't already. So she had to listen to them while lying awake for the third night... or walk. The decision wasn't hard to make.
She'd have walked further if the woods weren't still considered dangerous. Some of the bandits yet eluded their search parties that would be very interested in having her head, as well as those belonging to the king and the militia.Instead she kicked a path in the snow throughout the settlement until the sun emerged somewhere beyond the clouds, stopping at the occasional army camp to warm herself.
Once dawn had come the warrior took to the only place worth going; the Sail Spinner tavern. To some the name would seem ironic (Aftbide was far inland) but many of the villagers usually labored to collect flax and refine it into linen sails. Supposedly the first owner of the place belonged to a family that made their fortune doing so during a war fourty years prior. Before the raid, the interior of the tavern was apparently lined with decorations reflecting this theme; they varied from broken or decorative tools to shark teeth and weapons belonging to family ancestors. Most of it was gone when she first visited, though some of the weapons (broken as they were) remained hung on the walls or over the fireplace.
Since the family that ran the place was kept there to serve the bandits most of them were still alive and healthy. After the battle, the owner's eldest daughter sequestered herself in her room on the third floor but his other children were out and about, more happily cleaning the front room for its eventual opening. Despite it being closed that early they welcomed her in and the warrior, still clad in armor, began working along side them.
"You going to show your face today, Tara?" The old man, named Otso, teased. "Not like there are giant rats in the cellar need killin'."
The warrior started a bit, then chuckled and removed her helm to rest it on the counter near the man. "Don't know how, but sometimes I forget I'm wearing the thing." The two shared a chuckle and continued tidying.
"How's Gabriel?"
"He's doing better. The healer is almost finished with his arm, but she keeps saying he should avoid using it for a week after its done healing."
"I like that woman. She seems dedicated to her work. By the way..."
Tara shot the old man a squint. "Its a cut, now. Completely superficial."
"Well, I don't know what superficial means but I think you should be restin' with him, too. Not that I mind the extra help."
"Its just something to do." Her dismissal of the place was transparent. Faolan spent her early life by the sea; staying there felt like a home away from home. With the front room ready, two of the old man's children chattered as they walked into the kitchen. At this hour they were likely checking the first batch of baked goods; courtesy of a brave merchant who sold ingredients at a discount upon seeing the condition Aftbide was in.
The warrior's thoughts turned to the second floor and how she might assist there but Otso noticed her expression and huffed. "I'll serve you breakfast if ye' stop running around for a bit." Tara's eyes lit up; she obliged reluctantly but insisted on paying.
It would be at least half an hour before the morning pottage was ready, so the tavern owner traded stories with her until such a time that one of his own would turn the sign in front of the place to read 'OPEN' and guests came flooding in. So far, it was another, normal morning to be spent with militiamen and soldiers that could afford the local prices.
Aftbide, once a village of little import, became the grounds of a catastrophic battle. Homes were destroyed, blood shed, weapons clattering to settle in the mud.
In the beginning, all anyone could expect was a skirmish; running off a clan of bandits who had taken the village for themselves. But as the bandits lost their nerve a new enemy was awakened. The visitant, a shadowy being clad in ancient armor, appeared at the call of the bandit chieftain and slew many, devouring the essence of those it killed to further empower itself. It shrieked in such an unholy cacophony that its coming was heralded for miles, and it shed the snow from the mountain peak north of the village.
In the confusion a warrior named Tara Faolan fought against the bandit chieftain, Grum the Pineless, to liberate the yet uncrowned king Merthyr. The chief relented but kidnapped the king's personal manservant and close companion, Taff. Soon after one of the bandit remnants, a harpy named Atoli was captured by the king's army; in her possession was baggage belonging to the new king himself.
Eventually with the help of the Knights of the People and the king's army, the monster was contained and banished, leaving nothing of itself to remain. But Grum was still at large, many of his bandits escaped and the village was in complete disarray. The king's army sent what it could to find the minotaur and his captive, to no avail. Half a fortnight, largely spent with reparation and recovery, passed quickly. Many died from their wounds in that time; many others were found already dead in the houses dotting the grounds. Sickness became a constant menace and the winter rations were all but gone. Worse yet, a pall took the skies above since the wraith's banishment, one which eventually yielded a blanket of snow upon the land.
_
Snow, blown smooth by a chilling breeze, crunched under the weight of the wounded warrior's boots. It was almost morning, when a cool twilight begun the lighting of the land the sun would soon overlook. Most people were asleep at that time, with the only exception being loyal veterans of the king's army watching over the village as one of its standing garrisons. Most of the village's local guard were gone, making it necessary for additional royal influence on the near-ruined place. They didn't mind her as she walked through the snow-coated paths, familiar with her presence as she was of their's. Yet one such guard scoffed somewhat as she passed, breaking the near-sacred silence with a quip both irritable and concerned.
"You shouldn't be out this time of night. Weren't you staying at the infirmary? You'll catch your death out here."
The warrior paused and turned to look sidelong at the concerned soldier. "Ah, nevermind that. Winter is something my people are used to." Yet the veteran seemed unconvinced.
"You can be used to it in health and still die of it in illness."
"Thank you for your concern. It'll be alright. I'm just out for a walk before the road gets busy." She nodded, face still concealed beneath her helm and aventail, before walking calmly away. The guard rested his billhook on his shoulder and rubbed his mitted hands together, cursing quietly at the cold.
And the sacred silence hung in the air again. It wasn't so much the crowd Tara disliked-- her perspective of people was generally positive-- but the noise. She could never quite calm herself in a place with a commotion, least of all one with so much chaos as the village has seen in the last week. The walk was her precious little time meditating before the noise returned and there was work to be done once again.
It didn't help that the infirmary was impossible to rest in anyway. Very few people were still in critical condition but those who were groaned every day and night, delirious from pain they might never recover from. It was not in her nature not to help, but there was very little to be done that the healers hadn't already. So she had to listen to them while lying awake for the third night... or walk. The decision wasn't hard to make.
She'd have walked further if the woods weren't still considered dangerous. Some of the bandits yet eluded their search parties that would be very interested in having her head, as well as those belonging to the king and the militia.Instead she kicked a path in the snow throughout the settlement until the sun emerged somewhere beyond the clouds, stopping at the occasional army camp to warm herself.
Once dawn had come the warrior took to the only place worth going; the Sail Spinner tavern. To some the name would seem ironic (Aftbide was far inland) but many of the villagers usually labored to collect flax and refine it into linen sails. Supposedly the first owner of the place belonged to a family that made their fortune doing so during a war fourty years prior. Before the raid, the interior of the tavern was apparently lined with decorations reflecting this theme; they varied from broken or decorative tools to shark teeth and weapons belonging to family ancestors. Most of it was gone when she first visited, though some of the weapons (broken as they were) remained hung on the walls or over the fireplace.
Since the family that ran the place was kept there to serve the bandits most of them were still alive and healthy. After the battle, the owner's eldest daughter sequestered herself in her room on the third floor but his other children were out and about, more happily cleaning the front room for its eventual opening. Despite it being closed that early they welcomed her in and the warrior, still clad in armor, began working along side them.
"You going to show your face today, Tara?" The old man, named Otso, teased. "Not like there are giant rats in the cellar need killin'."
The warrior started a bit, then chuckled and removed her helm to rest it on the counter near the man. "Don't know how, but sometimes I forget I'm wearing the thing." The two shared a chuckle and continued tidying.
"How's Gabriel?"
"He's doing better. The healer is almost finished with his arm, but she keeps saying he should avoid using it for a week after its done healing."
"I like that woman. She seems dedicated to her work. By the way..."
Tara shot the old man a squint. "Its a cut, now. Completely superficial."
"Well, I don't know what superficial means but I think you should be restin' with him, too. Not that I mind the extra help."
"Its just something to do." Her dismissal of the place was transparent. Faolan spent her early life by the sea; staying there felt like a home away from home. With the front room ready, two of the old man's children chattered as they walked into the kitchen. At this hour they were likely checking the first batch of baked goods; courtesy of a brave merchant who sold ingredients at a discount upon seeing the condition Aftbide was in.
The warrior's thoughts turned to the second floor and how she might assist there but Otso noticed her expression and huffed. "I'll serve you breakfast if ye' stop running around for a bit." Tara's eyes lit up; she obliged reluctantly but insisted on paying.
It would be at least half an hour before the morning pottage was ready, so the tavern owner traded stories with her until such a time that one of his own would turn the sign in front of the place to read 'OPEN' and guests came flooding in. So far, it was another, normal morning to be spent with militiamen and soldiers that could afford the local prices.
Merthyr came into the tavern rubbing his eyes tiredly, Lwyncelyne, the elven healer, and his cousin Sir Pentre were adamant that the king had to rest but Merthyr pushed aside any such thoughts, as worry and anxiety gnawed his mind.
Indeed he had yet another sleepless night spent over maps, new and old alike, to try to identify the whereabouts of Taff and Grum, as well as occasionally visiting Atoli at her cell in the barracks for questioning purposes. He was certain the harpy had to know something for sure.
Upon entering the tavern, he sat by Tara awaiting his breakfast too, his tired eyes fixed on the very same counter where it all began. He had his travel bag back, his royal seal, his royal robes, the crown had been delivered along with his kingly armour, his lord knight pendant was back around his neck, his unusually well carved daggers and his sword to match hanged upon his leather belt, even his diary had been returned into his hands, but the absence of Taff made all these relevant things seem not so important any more.
He had promised he would help rebuild the village and a king had to deliver upon his oaths. Yet the arduous task was sapping much of his time and effort, taking far longer than he could want. It was tying him back and preventing him from immediately venturing into the forest to give the bandits chase
"Good morning knight Faloan" greeted Merthyr treating the woman as he would treat any other of his knights. Woman or not, she had earned that title for her bold bravery and services rendered and he would see to it that these women were knighted properly and given their own coat of arms for their shields if they saw fit to use it.
Indeed he had yet another sleepless night spent over maps, new and old alike, to try to identify the whereabouts of Taff and Grum, as well as occasionally visiting Atoli at her cell in the barracks for questioning purposes. He was certain the harpy had to know something for sure.
Upon entering the tavern, he sat by Tara awaiting his breakfast too, his tired eyes fixed on the very same counter where it all began. He had his travel bag back, his royal seal, his royal robes, the crown had been delivered along with his kingly armour, his lord knight pendant was back around his neck, his unusually well carved daggers and his sword to match hanged upon his leather belt, even his diary had been returned into his hands, but the absence of Taff made all these relevant things seem not so important any more.
He had promised he would help rebuild the village and a king had to deliver upon his oaths. Yet the arduous task was sapping much of his time and effort, taking far longer than he could want. It was tying him back and preventing him from immediately venturing into the forest to give the bandits chase
"Good morning knight Faloan" greeted Merthyr treating the woman as he would treat any other of his knights. Woman or not, she had earned that title for her bold bravery and services rendered and he would see to it that these women were knighted properly and given their own coat of arms for their shields if they saw fit to use it.
((@Arcol You can.))
"G'morning, your majesty." Tara replied, warmly and evenly. Otso's kin had already prepared and presented the warrior's meal; as Merthyr made himself comfortable she dipped the end of a piece of bread in the morning stew. The old man smiled at the young one's arrival and chimed, "What'll it be today, then? Pottage with the rest? We can throw together a few other things yet."
_
That same morning Grum walked through the forest miles southwest of town. Although the minotaur usually had no issues with sleep, the last week hadn't afforded him many opportunities to get ample rest. Between his exhausting trek with the captive Taff, the gut-wound he kept hidden after his bout with the king and warrior, and the constant vigil he had to keep on the wily manservant the chieftain had grown especially irritable. And this had gone on for nearly two weeks! Most of his bandits dispersed after the failed ransom, some even challenged his leadership. They were no longer a concern, but the way his clan splintered made him thirst for vengeance. As his hooves crunched leaf litter and snow he considered again just how he might get even.
Taff was not Merthyr; his ransom, if even possible, would not be worth nearly as much. When earlier he had considered a life of luxury he'd win by returning the king, now Grum simply hoped to find a way to trade the servant's freedom for a way out of the country. He huffed, his fist clenching the back of Taff's shirt as he guided the now-bound man through the foliage. It was a disgrace.
It was morning, yet the chieftain was already tired. The past few days had been especially hard; though he mentioned nothing of it to his captive his injury burned with a constant white-hot pain he could barely tolerate. But he couldn't show any weaknesses, now could he? He just had to keep going...
A wisp of smoke drifted from beyond an overhang the two walked nearby. Or was that his imagination? The minotaur craned his head back, muffling a hiss, to peek over it. He could just barely make out the thatched-roof of a primitive, rectangular stone house. "Filth," He chose to call Taff, in lieu of not being able to call Merthyr that. "Do you see that smoke?"
"G'morning, your majesty." Tara replied, warmly and evenly. Otso's kin had already prepared and presented the warrior's meal; as Merthyr made himself comfortable she dipped the end of a piece of bread in the morning stew. The old man smiled at the young one's arrival and chimed, "What'll it be today, then? Pottage with the rest? We can throw together a few other things yet."
_
That same morning Grum walked through the forest miles southwest of town. Although the minotaur usually had no issues with sleep, the last week hadn't afforded him many opportunities to get ample rest. Between his exhausting trek with the captive Taff, the gut-wound he kept hidden after his bout with the king and warrior, and the constant vigil he had to keep on the wily manservant the chieftain had grown especially irritable. And this had gone on for nearly two weeks! Most of his bandits dispersed after the failed ransom, some even challenged his leadership. They were no longer a concern, but the way his clan splintered made him thirst for vengeance. As his hooves crunched leaf litter and snow he considered again just how he might get even.
Taff was not Merthyr; his ransom, if even possible, would not be worth nearly as much. When earlier he had considered a life of luxury he'd win by returning the king, now Grum simply hoped to find a way to trade the servant's freedom for a way out of the country. He huffed, his fist clenching the back of Taff's shirt as he guided the now-bound man through the foliage. It was a disgrace.
It was morning, yet the chieftain was already tired. The past few days had been especially hard; though he mentioned nothing of it to his captive his injury burned with a constant white-hot pain he could barely tolerate. But he couldn't show any weaknesses, now could he? He just had to keep going...
A wisp of smoke drifted from beyond an overhang the two walked nearby. Or was that his imagination? The minotaur craned his head back, muffling a hiss, to peek over it. He could just barely make out the thatched-roof of a primitive, rectangular stone house. "Filth," He chose to call Taff, in lieu of not being able to call Merthyr that. "Do you see that smoke?"
Taff gazed ahead into the direction that the chieftain was referring to. "Yes master" confirmed Taff Gelligen cheerful and respectful as usual "There is definitely smoke coming from that roof of that property ahead of us, chieftain" nodded Taff Gelligen.
Unlike the rest of the traveling party, Taff was not that tired because he had been tapping into his unlimited powerful magic for the energy needed to keep going, with or without food, with or without sleep, with or without stopping to rest.
With his powers, Taff had discreetly taken care of that wraith back in Aftbide, now all he could do is hope Grim never found out it was him who undid the dark spell and somehow helped cause Grum's downfall
Merthyr looked at the bartender.
"I'll have whatever everyone else is having, if it's good enough for the commoners and knights then it's good enough for me too, no need to trouble yourself further" appeased Merthyr
"Any news on Taff? Even the least gossip or rumour?" Quizzed Merthyr at the pair of them
Unlike the rest of the traveling party, Taff was not that tired because he had been tapping into his unlimited powerful magic for the energy needed to keep going, with or without food, with or without sleep, with or without stopping to rest.
With his powers, Taff had discreetly taken care of that wraith back in Aftbide, now all he could do is hope Grim never found out it was him who undid the dark spell and somehow helped cause Grum's downfall
Merthyr looked at the bartender.
"I'll have whatever everyone else is having, if it's good enough for the commoners and knights then it's good enough for me too, no need to trouble yourself further" appeased Merthyr
"Any news on Taff? Even the least gossip or rumour?" Quizzed Merthyr at the pair of them
From far beyond the small village, a lone black figure rested upon a hill. A black mist emitted from his form, scathing in the rising sun. A jagged metal mask concealed the face of this dark being, further influencing fear in his enemies. He began to stride down to the town, taking the less threatening form of a normal man, weary and worn from travel. As he entered the small community, his ring called out to him. "Feast", it said in his mind, "The souls are plenty, ripe and fresh. Must consume, must control." The figure ignored these callings, having had years of practice set before him of resisting the urge to feast upon the living. He entered the tavern where Merthyr and Tara sat, setting himself in a corner before pulling out his blade. SoulReaver, it was called, and it did as it was named; harvesting souls for its master.
From within the stony barracks of Aftbide sat a small figure in the back of a lonely cell. Though she had the face and stature of a young lady, it wasn’t hard to notice that this creature was not human. Through her sleeveless leather tunic were not arms but wings, and anywhere else that was not covered by clothing was claimed by black feathers. Her skinny avian legs and feet were crossed neatly in front of her, but the young harpy looked rather ragged with large bruise across one side of her face and a split lip, though it was nearly done healing now after a week, but the ugly mottled bruise remained and stood out against the pale skin. During the struggle of her capture one of the king’s men had back handed her with a gauntleted fist. The other bruises on her body could not be seen from under her coat of feathers.
Atoli leaned against the far wall as she sat and idly combed her fingers through her fluffy neck feathers, the marks on her wrists where she had been bound with rope were gone by now, having gnawed through them in the earlier days of her stay. The girl took to preening herself, her winter feathers were coming in nicely at least, though the cold from the stone floor still caused her to shiver and her breath came out in misty wisps in front of her. From time to time she would glance up to the door with sharp green eyes. Her stomach growled plaintively and she ignored it. But each day left her more restless and anxious to be in the open sky once more. Her breed wasn’t suited for captivity and close quarters.
It was a foolish mistake on her part to be caught and trussed up like some wild turkey. Things could have turned out worse… but they should have turned out better for herself, she thought sourly; If she hadn’t hesitated she would have been free and flying with a satchel full of coins by now… Atoli sighed and glanced down at the small bag that was still in her possession, the men who caught her must have thought it had been of little importance and left it in her greedy possession than to bother trying to wrestle from her.
For now the harpy waited. Not for Grum or any other bandits to come to the rescue; she wasn’t that foolish to hope for such things. What she waited for was the moment when the higher ups would interrogate the bandits that remained, including herself.
Atoli leaned against the far wall as she sat and idly combed her fingers through her fluffy neck feathers, the marks on her wrists where she had been bound with rope were gone by now, having gnawed through them in the earlier days of her stay. The girl took to preening herself, her winter feathers were coming in nicely at least, though the cold from the stone floor still caused her to shiver and her breath came out in misty wisps in front of her. From time to time she would glance up to the door with sharp green eyes. Her stomach growled plaintively and she ignored it. But each day left her more restless and anxious to be in the open sky once more. Her breed wasn’t suited for captivity and close quarters.
It was a foolish mistake on her part to be caught and trussed up like some wild turkey. Things could have turned out worse… but they should have turned out better for herself, she thought sourly; If she hadn’t hesitated she would have been free and flying with a satchel full of coins by now… Atoli sighed and glanced down at the small bag that was still in her possession, the men who caught her must have thought it had been of little importance and left it in her greedy possession than to bother trying to wrestle from her.
For now the harpy waited. Not for Grum or any other bandits to come to the rescue; she wasn’t that foolish to hope for such things. What she waited for was the moment when the higher ups would interrogate the bandits that remained, including herself.
Otso smiled and turned part way to retrieve the pottage that Merthyr requested, quietly pleased that he was not required to make a special meal. It was indeed possible, as he said, but it was taxing on the tavern owner's already dwindling supplies. Before he could collect some he noticed the figure of an old man enter the tavern and waved one of his daughters over. An adolescent girl, no older than fourteen approached the old man, listened to a whisper of his while glancing in the newcomer's direction and darted into the kitchen.
Tara shook her head at the king's inquiry, fidgeting with a finger of her left hand's glove idly. "Nothing new here. Maybe when more come in you'll hear something more." The tavern owner similarly shook his head. "Nah... Don't give up hope just yet. That cow's got a greed stronger than his wrath; methinks your friend'll show up from some lord or another in no time."
Both the tavern owner and his daughter emerged with bowls of food and slices of bread; while the man rested his food in front of Merthyr the girl padded toward Asgoth. Placing the pottage on the table nearest to him, the girl asked, "Pottage, sir?"
_
Grum snorted; not so much at the manservant's response, but at his seemingly endless energy. The minotaur knew that the lad had some sort of magical gift but lacked the specialized knowledge to discover anything beyond that; as far as he was concerned, all magic users were the same (hypocritically so). He ignored it for the moment (as he had for most of their trip) and said, "That's what I thought. Why don't we pay them a visit?"
The question proved rhetorical as the larger humanoid manhandled Taff around the overhang and up the hill, winding about the hill to observe the full source of the smoke.
The house sat dormant on the other side of the hill; though the chimney continued seeing use there was too little light to see anything within. The chieftain brought his captive close to its entrance and flared his nostrils with disdain; the design of this hovel was clearly human-inspired. "Truly a fool must live here, to let themselves be alone when bandits roam these woods."
As Grum closed in to grasp the makeshift door handle the soft thump of heavy footsteps on dirt caught his ear from around the corner to their right. And if Taff looked, seconds before the minotaur noticed he would see the long, droopy snout of a local bear poking from around that corner. Its black eyes fixed on the two, cautious and studious. When the chieftain noticed it his muscles went taut.
Tara shook her head at the king's inquiry, fidgeting with a finger of her left hand's glove idly. "Nothing new here. Maybe when more come in you'll hear something more." The tavern owner similarly shook his head. "Nah... Don't give up hope just yet. That cow's got a greed stronger than his wrath; methinks your friend'll show up from some lord or another in no time."
Both the tavern owner and his daughter emerged with bowls of food and slices of bread; while the man rested his food in front of Merthyr the girl padded toward Asgoth. Placing the pottage on the table nearest to him, the girl asked, "Pottage, sir?"
_
Grum snorted; not so much at the manservant's response, but at his seemingly endless energy. The minotaur knew that the lad had some sort of magical gift but lacked the specialized knowledge to discover anything beyond that; as far as he was concerned, all magic users were the same (hypocritically so). He ignored it for the moment (as he had for most of their trip) and said, "That's what I thought. Why don't we pay them a visit?"
The question proved rhetorical as the larger humanoid manhandled Taff around the overhang and up the hill, winding about the hill to observe the full source of the smoke.
The house sat dormant on the other side of the hill; though the chimney continued seeing use there was too little light to see anything within. The chieftain brought his captive close to its entrance and flared his nostrils with disdain; the design of this hovel was clearly human-inspired. "Truly a fool must live here, to let themselves be alone when bandits roam these woods."
As Grum closed in to grasp the makeshift door handle the soft thump of heavy footsteps on dirt caught his ear from around the corner to their right. And if Taff looked, seconds before the minotaur noticed he would see the long, droopy snout of a local bear poking from around that corner. Its black eyes fixed on the two, cautious and studious. When the chieftain noticed it his muscles went taut.
Merthyr nodded in understanding appreciating the words of support
"Well Otso, keep an eye and ear open for any news regarding my best friend Taff, any news are welcomed and needed" nodded Merthyr taking up the food and a blanket to give his own breakfast to Atoli as he came to visit her at the barracks
"Good morning Atoli, I thought you might be hungry so I bring you warm food, drink and a blanket." Explained Merthyr having the guards open the cell door so he brings it over to her setting it down on a stool within easy reach. She had been securely chained thus the chance of escape was minimal to none.
"I believe that you are still holding onto some property of mine and I would like it to be returned" explained Merthyr calmly
Taff noticed the bear and paused, cautious and weary waiting for Grum's instructions and decisions.
He would have liked to just walk away but being held as he was he feared grumpy Grum more than he feared the new creature
"Why don't you let me heal your gut wound in return for not manhandling me?" Asked Taff clearly disliking the controlling contact
"I'm a manservant I know how to take orders..." assured Taff
"Well Otso, keep an eye and ear open for any news regarding my best friend Taff, any news are welcomed and needed" nodded Merthyr taking up the food and a blanket to give his own breakfast to Atoli as he came to visit her at the barracks
"Good morning Atoli, I thought you might be hungry so I bring you warm food, drink and a blanket." Explained Merthyr having the guards open the cell door so he brings it over to her setting it down on a stool within easy reach. She had been securely chained thus the chance of escape was minimal to none.
"I believe that you are still holding onto some property of mine and I would like it to be returned" explained Merthyr calmly
Taff noticed the bear and paused, cautious and weary waiting for Grum's instructions and decisions.
He would have liked to just walk away but being held as he was he feared grumpy Grum more than he feared the new creature
"Why don't you let me heal your gut wound in return for not manhandling me?" Asked Taff clearly disliking the controlling contact
"I'm a manservant I know how to take orders..." assured Taff
The tavern door opened slightly before Hilda 's head peeks inside. Seeing that the tavern was indeed open, she fully steps inside. Clad in a combination of a simple, if worn, tunic and bandages, she makes straight for the counter. Taking a seat a few spaces away from Tara, she slowly goes about attempting to get herself comfortable.
Finally satisfied she glances over the front of the tavern, holding for several moments on the figure in the corner, before looking to Tara. Teasingly she warned "The healer's looking for you. She looked a little upset. Something about injured actually staying in the infirmary." Even as she spoke, Hilda fumbled with retrieving a small coin from the coin purse inside of her tunic and places it on the counter. With her 'warning' given she looks at the tavern owner with a smile as she asks "If there is any extra, I would like a bowl please?"
Finally satisfied she glances over the front of the tavern, holding for several moments on the figure in the corner, before looking to Tara. Teasingly she warned "The healer's looking for you. She looked a little upset. Something about injured actually staying in the infirmary." Even as she spoke, Hilda fumbled with retrieving a small coin from the coin purse inside of her tunic and places it on the counter. With her 'warning' given she looks at the tavern owner with a smile as she asks "If there is any extra, I would like a bowl please?"
Asgoth looked to the woman. "I would enjoy a bowl, thank you." he said as he handed her some gold from his pouch in exchange for the pottage. He had not had mortal sustenance since his last encounter with civilization. He was able to eat mortal food, but it provided little but flavor for him. He feasted on souls, but his ring was controlled for now.
Faolan perked up as Hilda warned her, bowing her head and uttering an, "Och...!" upon hearing about the healer. "She'll no doubt be upon us soon, then. That's the third time I've heard this today and its not even midday." She blushed with embarrassment but smirked despite herself.
Otso grinned when Seibel produced a coin and asked for pottage. He scooped up the coin and eyed it over before pocketing it and saying, "No, thanks for the coin though." A few seconds pause later the old man laughed and said, "I joke! Right away!" And as promised the man collected bread and pottage from within the kitchen, placing it on the counter between them. "Its a good place to be an early bird, though. This stuff is best just after its prepared."
The daughter traded the bowl of pottage for his coin in a much more subdued fashion, eyeing the stranger a few seconds longer than she should have before trotting away, gold in hand. She dropped it off near her father and bee-lined for the stairs. "Hey," Otso called after her. "Where are you going?"
"Errands!" She replied.
"Is sleeping upstairs an errand now, young lady?"
"No!"
The father scoffed and shrugged. "I know what she's doing." Soon after the girl darted down the steps with additional layers of clothing on as well as a cap and mitts. "You think the millers are going to be up this early?" The man inquired. She nodded. "You hurry off then and see for yourself. And if they don't drive you out of town for waking them up early, don't dally! We need it here today!" The girl just nodded again, seeming pleased for someone doing menial labor. She collected something Otso produced from behind the counter and scurried out the door. As she exited, a couple of regulars entered the building and took their usual seats. The old man was already at work preparing things for them.
_
The minotaur growled at Taff's actually rather reasonable request. "Speak when you are spoken to--"
The bear evidently didn't appreciate Grum's outburst. It stood and roared at them furiously. The chieftain just as soon dropped the manservant from his grasp to collect his war hammer, swinging it at one of the beast's massive paws. The burly creature narrowly dodged the blow and dropped down on all fours again, lunging at Grum with massive claws.
The manservant's captor was of a similar mind to the beast, drawing back to avoid being hit; but the claws yet narrowly raked the flesh of his forearm as he held his hammer defensively before him. He growled in pain and swung again, this time managing to land a cracking blow on the animal's shoulder blade. The bear roared again, this time in agony, and retreated behind the hovel.
"Pah!" The chieftain spat contemptuously. Yet as he started to calm from the squabble, a liquid ribbon of red dribbled from beneath his fur and mail armor. He looked down to see it just seconds before his eyes lost focus and, without a word, the minotaur dropped his weapon and collapsed.
Pained panting from the bear remained just behind the house. The beast didn't seem to move much from its supposed hiding place. Somewhere behind Taff and Grum, snow crunched.
Otso grinned when Seibel produced a coin and asked for pottage. He scooped up the coin and eyed it over before pocketing it and saying, "No, thanks for the coin though." A few seconds pause later the old man laughed and said, "I joke! Right away!" And as promised the man collected bread and pottage from within the kitchen, placing it on the counter between them. "Its a good place to be an early bird, though. This stuff is best just after its prepared."
The daughter traded the bowl of pottage for his coin in a much more subdued fashion, eyeing the stranger a few seconds longer than she should have before trotting away, gold in hand. She dropped it off near her father and bee-lined for the stairs. "Hey," Otso called after her. "Where are you going?"
"Errands!" She replied.
"Is sleeping upstairs an errand now, young lady?"
"No!"
The father scoffed and shrugged. "I know what she's doing." Soon after the girl darted down the steps with additional layers of clothing on as well as a cap and mitts. "You think the millers are going to be up this early?" The man inquired. She nodded. "You hurry off then and see for yourself. And if they don't drive you out of town for waking them up early, don't dally! We need it here today!" The girl just nodded again, seeming pleased for someone doing menial labor. She collected something Otso produced from behind the counter and scurried out the door. As she exited, a couple of regulars entered the building and took their usual seats. The old man was already at work preparing things for them.
_
The minotaur growled at Taff's actually rather reasonable request. "Speak when you are spoken to--"
The bear evidently didn't appreciate Grum's outburst. It stood and roared at them furiously. The chieftain just as soon dropped the manservant from his grasp to collect his war hammer, swinging it at one of the beast's massive paws. The burly creature narrowly dodged the blow and dropped down on all fours again, lunging at Grum with massive claws.
The manservant's captor was of a similar mind to the beast, drawing back to avoid being hit; but the claws yet narrowly raked the flesh of his forearm as he held his hammer defensively before him. He growled in pain and swung again, this time managing to land a cracking blow on the animal's shoulder blade. The bear roared again, this time in agony, and retreated behind the hovel.
"Pah!" The chieftain spat contemptuously. Yet as he started to calm from the squabble, a liquid ribbon of red dribbled from beneath his fur and mail armor. He looked down to see it just seconds before his eyes lost focus and, without a word, the minotaur dropped his weapon and collapsed.
Pained panting from the bear remained just behind the house. The beast didn't seem to move much from its supposed hiding place. Somewhere behind Taff and Grum, snow crunched.
"I should be breaking into a run you know... leave you to rot" murmured Taff to himself trying to bring the wounded chieftain indoors.
Seeing the man was just too heavy for him, he could only think of using magic to assist, so many spells floated through his mind. He placed a hand upon the chest to make the body float and willed Grum's floating body to follow inside.
Taff knew he had to heal the chieftain but the stubborn creature just wouldn't listen.
A smirk of mischief crossed Taff's lips, he held onto Grum's hand tightly as if they were siblings and laid down besides him, casting a spell that, if it worked, it would force the minds to switch bodies, leaving Taff inside Grum's body and forcing Grum inside Taff's body.
If he could do that well he would be able to force the healing process much quicker by using enormous amounts of magic from within. There was a risk that Grum could wake up in the meantime, to find himself into Taff weak body with Taff voice and looks, but, chances were not that high, with some luck, Grum would be asleep through the healing period, until they switched again.
((@Iltheyn if too godmoddish send pm and I will edit))
Seeing the man was just too heavy for him, he could only think of using magic to assist, so many spells floated through his mind. He placed a hand upon the chest to make the body float and willed Grum's floating body to follow inside.
Taff knew he had to heal the chieftain but the stubborn creature just wouldn't listen.
A smirk of mischief crossed Taff's lips, he held onto Grum's hand tightly as if they were siblings and laid down besides him, casting a spell that, if it worked, it would force the minds to switch bodies, leaving Taff inside Grum's body and forcing Grum inside Taff's body.
If he could do that well he would be able to force the healing process much quicker by using enormous amounts of magic from within. There was a risk that Grum could wake up in the meantime, to find himself into Taff weak body with Taff voice and looks, but, chances were not that high, with some luck, Grum would be asleep through the healing period, until they switched again.
((@Iltheyn if too godmoddish send pm and I will edit))
At Merthyr’s arrival and approach, Atoli’s nose wrinkled as she watched him. When the cell door opened she got to her feet, causing the chains on her shackled feet to softly jingle. “It is hardly a good morning.” The harpy ignored the food and blanket that were placed on the stool and kept her gaze on the noble.
When he mentioned the satchel Atoli crossed her arms in front of her and tilted her head. “Oh, this?” She asked, miming his calm tone, and placed one clawed foot on top of the bag that had been on the floor behind her. “I’m sure you would. How about a trade then? Get me out of this cell and you’ll get this back.” She replied simply, her green eyes were steely and remained on his as she waited for an answer.
When he mentioned the satchel Atoli crossed her arms in front of her and tilted her head. “Oh, this?” She asked, miming his calm tone, and placed one clawed foot on top of the bag that had been on the floor behind her. “I’m sure you would. How about a trade then? Get me out of this cell and you’ll get this back.” She replied simply, her green eyes were steely and remained on his as she waited for an answer.
"Very well, my lady, I will get you out of this cell as you demand, but first you hand over the bag though... I must ensure none of the belongings are missing. You're known to be a light fingered thief after all, Atoli" mused Merthyr hesitant, eyes locked onto his belongings and travel bag
Taff felt heavy and bulky, this new body was sore, exhausted and wounded. He had to concentrate to start the healing spell and fast, time was not on his side, he closed his eyes and was muttering continually the unbroken words that increased in intensity and volume. He must not be disrupted else he would have to start all over again if his concentration was broken.
He just feared if Grum woke up unexpectedly he might catch a glimpse of the most recent memories the body held and discover it had been Taff who destroyed his wraith and forced the body switch. He would be in so much trouble. His only consolation was the fact that Taff was not particularly strong and burly physically so even if Grum did lash out, the pain would likely be less than in normal circumstances
Right now, Grum knew how to fight but lacked strength, whilst Taff had strength but knew not how to fight. Grum was bold where Taff was cowardly. If danger approached they were both in serious trouble and the thought made him shudder forcing him to restart the spell as he lost concentration yet again
Taff felt heavy and bulky, this new body was sore, exhausted and wounded. He had to concentrate to start the healing spell and fast, time was not on his side, he closed his eyes and was muttering continually the unbroken words that increased in intensity and volume. He must not be disrupted else he would have to start all over again if his concentration was broken.
He just feared if Grum woke up unexpectedly he might catch a glimpse of the most recent memories the body held and discover it had been Taff who destroyed his wraith and forced the body switch. He would be in so much trouble. His only consolation was the fact that Taff was not particularly strong and burly physically so even if Grum did lash out, the pain would likely be less than in normal circumstances
Right now, Grum knew how to fight but lacked strength, whilst Taff had strength but knew not how to fight. Grum was bold where Taff was cowardly. If danger approached they were both in serious trouble and the thought made him shudder forcing him to restart the spell as he lost concentration yet again
Atoli blinked and licked the cut on her lip, looking thoughtful. His quick acceptance of her offer made her cautious. She combed her hand through her neck feathers once more, if Merthyr had sharp eyes he might notice a brief glimpse of a cord of leather around her neck beneath her feathers as she did so.
Atoli's right eyebrow raised when he mentioned checking the bag and shifted her weight a little, letting her talons click on the stone floor. “And how do I know you won’t just take it and leave? You nobles seem to forget things you promise once you get your way.”
This was not the interrogation she was expecting, but it wasn’t unwelcome turn of events. With this horse faced king getting to her first it looked like she wouldn’t have to sell out her fellow bandits, so that was a plus.
Atoli's right eyebrow raised when he mentioned checking the bag and shifted her weight a little, letting her talons click on the stone floor. “And how do I know you won’t just take it and leave? You nobles seem to forget things you promise once you get your way.”
This was not the interrogation she was expecting, but it wasn’t unwelcome turn of events. With this horse faced king getting to her first it looked like she wouldn’t have to sell out her fellow bandits, so that was a plus.
Merthyr nodded in acceptance at her mistrust.
"Very well, you tip the bag of contents and lay them out one by one, the bag won't leave and neither will you till we are both satisfied" accepted Merthyr
"One royal seal, one lordly pendant, a pair of daggers, one royal outfit and one royal diary onto that cot right away, then you step back, I count it myself and you will be lead away from the cell" nodded Merthyr wondering if she would accept
"Very well, you tip the bag of contents and lay them out one by one, the bag won't leave and neither will you till we are both satisfied" accepted Merthyr
"One royal seal, one lordly pendant, a pair of daggers, one royal outfit and one royal diary onto that cot right away, then you step back, I count it myself and you will be lead away from the cell" nodded Merthyr wondering if she would accept
Atoli listened to the king and her hands fell to her sides, his offer was fair. She bent down and lifted the bag by its end, allowing its contents to clatter to the floor. She proceeded to arrange the items so they could be displayed. “One ‘royal’ diary, some clothes (which she didn’t bother to fold), and the daggers... Which I would rather you not touch until I am out of here.”
She glanced at Merthyr awkwardly then, and rifled around under the collar of her tunic, pulling out the pendant and seal before placing them on the ground. Atoli glanced away for a moment, almost guiltily; She considered how hospitable he was being even with her being jailed, and it gave her an inkling of hope that he would be true to his word and she would leave this place…hopefully alive.
“That’s it.” The harpy stood and stepped back, watching him. She took a sidelong glance at the bowl of food and blanket before looking back to him, too proud to take either in his presence.
She glanced at Merthyr awkwardly then, and rifled around under the collar of her tunic, pulling out the pendant and seal before placing them on the ground. Atoli glanced away for a moment, almost guiltily; She considered how hospitable he was being even with her being jailed, and it gave her an inkling of hope that he would be true to his word and she would leave this place…hopefully alive.
“That’s it.” The harpy stood and stepped back, watching him. She took a sidelong glance at the bowl of food and blanket before looking back to him, too proud to take either in his presence.
Grum did not wake for the transformation, exhausted as he was from previous trials, so taking him into the hovel and switching minds was met with no resistance. When the spell was complete and Taff was free to move in the chieftain's body that same sound of footsteps sounded outside the door.
A woman with red hair, short stature and soft features peered at them from the outside. She wore a hand-stitched cloak and layered furs. clutching an un-drawn bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. She furrowed her brow at him but remained silent.
A woman with red hair, short stature and soft features peered at them from the outside. She wore a hand-stitched cloak and layered furs. clutching an un-drawn bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. She furrowed her brow at him but remained silent.
Hilda could not help but giggle at seeing Tara's reaction. Still giggling as she pulls the bowl and bread close to her, Hilda takes a bite of bread before swapping to her spoon and taking a bite of pottage. As she ate her hand movements appeared somewhat awkward, much like when she was retrieving her payment earlier. After consuming most of the bowl and all of the bread, Hilda comments cheerfully "It's worth suffering her wrath to get a hot meal. She threatened to tie me to my cot if I didn't quit getting up though. I think she actually scares me worse then that...thing. That shadow. And It took my arm!"
Finishing off her bowl, Hilda scoots it towards the tavern owner as she comments "Thank you. The meal was quite delicious. best meal I've had in days. I'll have to come back again as soon as I can." She looks over at the entrance when she hears what sounds like shouting. Glancing over at Tara she shrugs and giggles "I think....that she might have found us."
Finishing off her bowl, Hilda scoots it towards the tavern owner as she comments "Thank you. The meal was quite delicious. best meal I've had in days. I'll have to come back again as soon as I can." She looks over at the entrance when she hears what sounds like shouting. Glancing over at Tara she shrugs and giggles "I think....that she might have found us."
Merthyr Tydfil nodded satisfied with that. He took shackles and cuffed her wrist on one end with his wrist on the other, walking her out of the dungeons and all the way back to the tavern, not talking until he reached Tara
"You won't be returned to the barracks, Atoli, but you have not eaten, slept, bathed or changed into warmer clothing. I am going to chain you to knight Faloan and leave you under her watch and care, I need some answers you may be able to give but you won't be questioned until you're well healed and well rested.
After the questioning, you're free to leave Aftbide. As promised, you will enjoy a royal pardon since you returned my belongings.
No one will execute you or drag you back down to the cells at the barracks, unless you attack or try to escape before the questioning. However keep in mind you're a destitute, without clothes, food, roof or wealth, not even company left to travel with, a poor wandering beggar at best.
If you seek work, food, payment and shelter, you are welcomed to join my ranks once the questioning is over, you can work as a scout with us helping me find Taff and Grum. You'll be paid in gold for your services too" Explained Merthyr making sure they both heard the deal and terms and conditions of release which depended on her cooperation during the upcoming questioning
"You won't be returned to the barracks, Atoli, but you have not eaten, slept, bathed or changed into warmer clothing. I am going to chain you to knight Faloan and leave you under her watch and care, I need some answers you may be able to give but you won't be questioned until you're well healed and well rested.
After the questioning, you're free to leave Aftbide. As promised, you will enjoy a royal pardon since you returned my belongings.
No one will execute you or drag you back down to the cells at the barracks, unless you attack or try to escape before the questioning. However keep in mind you're a destitute, without clothes, food, roof or wealth, not even company left to travel with, a poor wandering beggar at best.
If you seek work, food, payment and shelter, you are welcomed to join my ranks once the questioning is over, you can work as a scout with us helping me find Taff and Grum. You'll be paid in gold for your services too" Explained Merthyr making sure they both heard the deal and terms and conditions of release which depended on her cooperation during the upcoming questioning
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