Johnny slid from the saddle, dropping her reins at the edge of the road where the soft grass grew long, leaving the horse to graze as she turned to face the wood and stone facade of a long-abandoned roadside inn. A smile played across the bard's lips, and she cocked her head to one side, breathing deep the smells of wildflowers that dappled the small green meadow of a lawn, and the richer pine and oak scents of the forest that surrounded them.
"A little elbow grease, and a lot of care, and we could make the place habitable again-What do you think," she asked, turning her gaze back to her companion, just now climbing from the back of his own, much larger horse.
Matt followed Johnny's lead, letting the massive Destrier amble off to join the bard's animal in munching at the thatch of soft grass. His storm gray eyes crinkled warmly, and he offered her a slow, considering nod as he took the place in, his critical gaze noting first the visible dry-rot damage of the front steps and porch and the moth-eaten wormwood planks that covered the doors and windows.
"It'll take some work," he told her, the unspoken criticism fading from his face as he looked to the little, redheaded woman, her cheeks flushed in the brisk autumn sunlight, "But I think we could manage it. Let's have a look inside."
He bypassed the questionable stairs with a single stretch of his long, muscled legs, pausing to pull a utility knife from his boot, that he wedged under one of the rotting boards that barricaded the old door. Johnny followed him up, though she had to climb where he had merely stepped, and peered through a crack in the window boards, but the interior of the old tavern was too dark to discern anything more than shadows and cobwebs.
"A little elbow grease, and a lot of care, and we could make the place habitable again-What do you think," she asked, turning her gaze back to her companion, just now climbing from the back of his own, much larger horse.
Matt followed Johnny's lead, letting the massive Destrier amble off to join the bard's animal in munching at the thatch of soft grass. His storm gray eyes crinkled warmly, and he offered her a slow, considering nod as he took the place in, his critical gaze noting first the visible dry-rot damage of the front steps and porch and the moth-eaten wormwood planks that covered the doors and windows.
"It'll take some work," he told her, the unspoken criticism fading from his face as he looked to the little, redheaded woman, her cheeks flushed in the brisk autumn sunlight, "But I think we could manage it. Let's have a look inside."
He bypassed the questionable stairs with a single stretch of his long, muscled legs, pausing to pull a utility knife from his boot, that he wedged under one of the rotting boards that barricaded the old door. Johnny followed him up, though she had to climb where he had merely stepped, and peered through a crack in the window boards, but the interior of the old tavern was too dark to discern anything more than shadows and cobwebs.
Matt pulled gently on the handle of the knife, unsure of how securely the boards were nailed on, and having no particular desire to break the blade of his knife. He felt a little movement, and gingerly applied more pressure, pulling the handle towards him until he heard the steel of the blade creak. Whilst the planks themselves were rotten, the nails securing them to the frame had been driven deep, and after years of weather, had rusted securely in place.
He muttered to himself in annoyance as he wiggled the blade free and replaced it in the sheath on his boot. A short leap took him over the crumbling stairs, and back to solid ground and he trotted over to his horse and retrieved the warhammer that was slung from the saddle. Having to use the finely crafted weapon for such a purpose grated on him, and his distaste was obviously written all over his face, judging from the way Johnny smirked and giggled at him as he negotiated the stairs again.
"You look like a sergeant who just caught one of his recruits using using his sword to chop firewood," she quipped, leaning against the wall and grinning.
"Funny, that's exactly what I'm about to do," he shot back, trying his best to look annoyed, and failing miserably.
"It's not like you ever use the hammer anyway. You've been dragging it around for years, and I've never seen you touch it in a fight," she replied, moving closer and slipping the leather tobacco pouch from Matt's belt.
"Now, be a good boy and get us inside, and I'll roll you a cigarette for when you're done."
He muttered to himself in annoyance as he wiggled the blade free and replaced it in the sheath on his boot. A short leap took him over the crumbling stairs, and back to solid ground and he trotted over to his horse and retrieved the warhammer that was slung from the saddle. Having to use the finely crafted weapon for such a purpose grated on him, and his distaste was obviously written all over his face, judging from the way Johnny smirked and giggled at him as he negotiated the stairs again.
"You look like a sergeant who just caught one of his recruits using using his sword to chop firewood," she quipped, leaning against the wall and grinning.
"Funny, that's exactly what I'm about to do," he shot back, trying his best to look annoyed, and failing miserably.
"It's not like you ever use the hammer anyway. You've been dragging it around for years, and I've never seen you touch it in a fight," she replied, moving closer and slipping the leather tobacco pouch from Matt's belt.
"Now, be a good boy and get us inside, and I'll roll you a cigarette for when you're done."
Matt opened his mouth to respond, but the little bard reached up and laid a finger to his lips.
"Do try not to demolish the actual door," she winked, and hopped up to perch on the stone porch's railing a few feet away, busying her hands with the tobacco. Her small fingers proved adroit, nimbly crafting a single,smooth, tight cigarette as she watched the knight flex his shoulders and level a careful blow at the old, worm-eaten wood. Just as the hammer fell, she creased her brow, and dropped back to her feet, tucking the cig inside the pouch, and laying it on the rail carefully, as she reached to her belt to unfasten a little wooden flute.
"Careful, m'lord," she murmured, green eyes wary, and her voice dropping to something just above a whisper, "we don't know what might be living... or not living... inside, and if there's anything in there, well it's surely heard us knocking, hasn't it."
"Do try not to demolish the actual door," she winked, and hopped up to perch on the stone porch's railing a few feet away, busying her hands with the tobacco. Her small fingers proved adroit, nimbly crafting a single,smooth, tight cigarette as she watched the knight flex his shoulders and level a careful blow at the old, worm-eaten wood. Just as the hammer fell, she creased her brow, and dropped back to her feet, tucking the cig inside the pouch, and laying it on the rail carefully, as she reached to her belt to unfasten a little wooden flute.
"Careful, m'lord," she murmured, green eyes wary, and her voice dropping to something just above a whisper, "we don't know what might be living... or not living... inside, and if there's anything in there, well it's surely heard us knocking, hasn't it."
Matt swung the hammer in a smooth arc, trying to bring the head down as vertically as possible to smash the planks downwards and avoid damaging the door. The hardened steel tore through the rotten wood more easily than expected, and he managed to carve a deep gouge in the door itself before he was able to bring the hammer to a halt.
Having heard his companion's warning, and feeling his own divinely enhanced senses tingling, he tossed the hammer aside and pulled his sword from the scabbard on his hip. The slender, hand-and-a-half blade rang as it cleared the scabbard, it's razor edge glittering in the afternoon sunlight.
Keeping his sword in his right hand, he clamped his left between his bicep and chest and pulled his leather riding glove off, leaving his left hand bare.
Whispering prayers of protection under his breath, he turned and placed his back back against the wall beside the door, brought his right leg forward and gave the door a savage donkey kick, shattering the inside of the jamb, and sending the door crashing open.
Having heard his companion's warning, and feeling his own divinely enhanced senses tingling, he tossed the hammer aside and pulled his sword from the scabbard on his hip. The slender, hand-and-a-half blade rang as it cleared the scabbard, it's razor edge glittering in the afternoon sunlight.
Keeping his sword in his right hand, he clamped his left between his bicep and chest and pulled his leather riding glove off, leaving his left hand bare.
Whispering prayers of protection under his breath, he turned and placed his back back against the wall beside the door, brought his right leg forward and gave the door a savage donkey kick, shattering the inside of the jamb, and sending the door crashing open.
Johnny watched the big man's wary preparations, a little smile tugging again at the corner of her lips. It was true they couldn't know what horror might lay in the darkness beyond, and also true that the horror in question had surely been alerted to their presence. Still, she also knew there were few threats to be found in Aielund which could stand more than a moment against Matthew, sword in hand, and the odds seemed somewhat slanted against any actual demonic squatters in the old place. She let one hand fall to her thigh to be certain her pistol-bow was in easy reach before whistling a jaunty, sweet little tune on the flute, and following in the big man's wake. As she played, a little bundle of soft, golden lights materialized, bobbing upward toward the shadowed and cobwebbed ceiling, illuminating the inn's common room as if by friendly candlelight.
The bard let her gaze follow the mage lights upward, barely faltering back a step as a spider the size of a small dog dropped into the space she'd been standing a moment before. The flute sqwalked briefly, the lights dimming, but as the spider hissed and hurled itself toward her she caught the shifting of shadows above out of the corner of her eye and steadied her notes. Killing enormous spiders in pitch darkness was no one's idea of a good time, but she could't maintain the light and defend herself, so instead, she closed her eyes, played strong, and poured all her faith into the man with the heavy swordarm...
The bard let her gaze follow the mage lights upward, barely faltering back a step as a spider the size of a small dog dropped into the space she'd been standing a moment before. The flute sqwalked briefly, the lights dimming, but as the spider hissed and hurled itself toward her she caught the shifting of shadows above out of the corner of her eye and steadied her notes. Killing enormous spiders in pitch darkness was no one's idea of a good time, but she could't maintain the light and defend herself, so instead, she closed her eyes, played strong, and poured all her faith into the man with the heavy swordarm...
"Get on out of it, ya bastard!"
The lunging spider's flight was suddenly reversed, courtesy of a large, steel capped boot.
The stunned creature spiralled across the room to crash against the far wall, where it lay, curled up on itself, twitching and making wet, bubbling sounds.
Matt pulled his sword from the floor where he'd thrust the point to allow him to put his whole weight behind the kick, and strode forward, taking a low stance and thrusting straight ahead, skewering the spider through it's cluster of eyes, and savagely wrenching the blade free in a shower of ichor and chitin.
He spun around as the blade cleared the corpse, scanning the room and the ceiling for other foes, his bare right hand held in front of him as he intoned a prayer to protect against poison.
The lunging spider's flight was suddenly reversed, courtesy of a large, steel capped boot.
The stunned creature spiralled across the room to crash against the far wall, where it lay, curled up on itself, twitching and making wet, bubbling sounds.
Matt pulled his sword from the floor where he'd thrust the point to allow him to put his whole weight behind the kick, and strode forward, taking a low stance and thrusting straight ahead, skewering the spider through it's cluster of eyes, and savagely wrenching the blade free in a shower of ichor and chitin.
He spun around as the blade cleared the corpse, scanning the room and the ceiling for other foes, his bare right hand held in front of him as he intoned a prayer to protect against poison.
The little bard offered Matt an appreciative smile. She'd been careless, showing off when a simpler spell would have served them both better, and she was glad of the flickering light for concealing a bit of a blush that rose to her cheeks. With a flourish of notes and a brief but elaborate gesture of her hand, she sustained the bobbing mage lights, tucked the flute into her belt, and took her bolt pistol in hand in it's place. She owned a pair of the custom weapons, but she'd never been terribly good at wielding the things in tandem. Soon after they were commissioned, one was relegated to the bow of her saddle as a back-up.
A pair of the large arachnids remained in plain sight above them, though the dance of the mage orbs chased them to opposite corners of the ceiling. Johnny raised her pistol, took careful aim, and loosed an iron-tipped bolt which struck one betwixt the largest of it's glinting eyeballs, bursting it, and pinning the spider neatly to the exposed roof beam. The last let out an angry chitter, and sklithered through a crevice in the ceiling.
"Why do I think we haven't seen the last of that?"
Johnny hung the bolter on her hip, and folded her arms, turning her eyes to the big, carven bar at the back of the room. There was quite a bit of space behind it- enough for a walk-through hearth, a small stone kitchen beyond. The whole place was covered in thick dust and cobwebs. Several broken bar stools and a filthy trestle table were the only decor that remained in the common room itself, but behind the bar, it seemed as if nothing was out of place. The counter below was lined with dusty bottles and kegs, and mugs and glasses lined the slim shelf above the kitchen hearth. Behind them hung an enormous mirror, streaked with soot, a vignette of age had blackened and speckled it's shimmering surface, but it still captured the daylight spilling through the remaining window boards, and scattered it with a bluish tint through the mote-clouded air.
"Odd, don't you think," she asked Matthew, reaching up to streak her finger through the grime on the mirror's surface, "Why do you think they abandoned the place?"
A pair of the large arachnids remained in plain sight above them, though the dance of the mage orbs chased them to opposite corners of the ceiling. Johnny raised her pistol, took careful aim, and loosed an iron-tipped bolt which struck one betwixt the largest of it's glinting eyeballs, bursting it, and pinning the spider neatly to the exposed roof beam. The last let out an angry chitter, and sklithered through a crevice in the ceiling.
"Why do I think we haven't seen the last of that?"
Johnny hung the bolter on her hip, and folded her arms, turning her eyes to the big, carven bar at the back of the room. There was quite a bit of space behind it- enough for a walk-through hearth, a small stone kitchen beyond. The whole place was covered in thick dust and cobwebs. Several broken bar stools and a filthy trestle table were the only decor that remained in the common room itself, but behind the bar, it seemed as if nothing was out of place. The counter below was lined with dusty bottles and kegs, and mugs and glasses lined the slim shelf above the kitchen hearth. Behind them hung an enormous mirror, streaked with soot, a vignette of age had blackened and speckled it's shimmering surface, but it still captured the daylight spilling through the remaining window boards, and scattered it with a bluish tint through the mote-clouded air.
"Odd, don't you think," she asked Matthew, reaching up to streak her finger through the grime on the mirror's surface, "Why do you think they abandoned the place?"
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