RP Session 4: "A Halfday's Ride"

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Jun 2, 2025 5:38 pm
Corson heads to the stables, and spends some time grooming the horses. While he does so, he tries to discreetly notice any prying eyes.
OOC:
If Perception is called for, -2 off that roll...

Rolls

Insight? - (1d20+4)

(13) + 4 = 17

Jun 3, 2025 2:48 am
The Wastrel's stables were bustling. Many merchants whose goods were bound for the City of Endier and who didn't care for Halfday's gate tax were making their way in to the establishment, while others ended their day's travel just short of the city's caravan curfew. Corson was shouldered more than once as the expansive coach house became cramped and chaotic.

No one arrested the weary warrior's attention as malicious, but with so many coming their departure would be worryingly obvious. Any casual, seemingly innocent enquiry of where the party of bloodied warriors who arrived an hour or so ago had gone would almost certainly be answered with 'they rode out just before dark' and might even include 'bound west I think.' Not to mention the ostler would need to clear passage for their animals.
Jun 3, 2025 8:38 pm
The horses were weary and restive as they were resaddled. They had had a long, hard day of riding and terrifying spider-battles, and now faced a night of forced march. Exhaustion and injury were real possibilities. Ogre in particular was resentful of being roused from his stall, and made his displeasure known by biting a hank of Lancaelad's ponytail and ripping it out of his scalp.

Rubbing his head, Lan slipped back into the Lorn Wastrel and found a minstrel cleaning her pipe with a cattail reed as the evening crowd billowed in. He slipped her a few silvers to play as many encores of The Awnshegh and the Milk Maid as she could. It was a bawdy, popular ballad about a sly, lascivious blooded monster 'courting' a virtuous and clever common girl, and all the tests of increasing difficulty, danger and distraction she made it go through to press its suit. A bit vulgar for Lan's tastes, but there was no denying it demanding enthusiastic singing along and invited impromptu jigs. Why, if they were lucky someone might even get out the wooden spoons!

With the best musical distraction he could muster set up, Lan pulled up the hood of his travel-worn cloak and went out to join the others mounting up.
[ +- ] OOC

Rolls

Animal Handling - (1d20+1)

(6) + 1 = 7

Jun 5, 2025 3:35 pm
"In the warm of the spring
Did the Milk Maiden sing
That she dreamed of the day
She would wed."

"But until that day,
She would wile away
Taking any she could
To her bed."

"And the cows of the field
Would most solemnly yield
To speak ne'er a word
Of her trysts."

"With a welcoming wink
And her mouth soft and pink
She would spare any
Fine fellow's wrists."

And so it did go in the sun or the snow, the maid's welcome would always be warm.
Till into the town with a shadow-ed frown came the awnsheigh that could choose his form."

"HUH!"


Voices boomed with bawdy glee across the tradehouse yard as the third round of the song began. The poor minstrel had rolled her eyes at Lan with the same scorn he might expect if he'd invited her back to his chambers. If ever a mere look said 'you filthy pervert' it was this one, but coin was coin and it seemed she was honest enough to play until her breath gave out.

In truth the lyrics were rather more... graphic than Lan recalled.

They met Rhoderick in the stables where he'd persuaded the young informant to retire. The suggestion to 'take a nap' when there was coin to be made through the busiest part of the night likely would not have found traction, but the lad was so addled by the priest's power that he'd convinced himself there might be another coin in it for him.

Having taking the lay of the place, Corson saddled the horses without bothering any of the ostlers who were in high spirits at the music in the hall and all looked set, but they found their exit barred by a large team of fractious oxen who hadn't been properly dealt to before the knight's diversion began.

Moving swiftly to clear the animals from their path, Corson and Lan dismounted and found bags of oats to coax the things with, but in their haste the foul tempered animals sensed something was amiss and put up a terrible din. By the time they cleared a path out of the stables and once more made for the gates the singing had reduced in enthusiasm and the full team of the Wastrel's stable staff as well as a few road-worn men, their cheeks rosey with merriment, who were presumibly the animal's owners were all staring daggers at the party.
Jun 5, 2025 6:44 pm
Well, $#!*, Corson mutters under his breath.
Jun 6, 2025 4:16 am
Ser Lancaelad's cheeks and the tips of his ears coloured a little as the piper's rendition of The Awnshegh and the Milk Maid rollicked through the inn. "They sing it... differently in Roesone," he muttered defensively, not looking at Tovrunn, Adalric or the rest.

His embarrassment shifted to ill-temper as he found the muleskinners watching him and Corson clearing the oxen away. "What are you gawking at? Deal to your obstreperous beasts! Does no-one in this town know the law of the road?" he snapped. He gave one of the oxen a slap on the haunch to try and get it moving, earning himself a half-hearted hoof in the ribs for his trouble. As he wheezed for breath, Lan realised the scene they were making and hunched his head down under his hood.

They'd have to make haste rather than hope for anonymity, now.
Jun 7, 2025 7:04 am
Rhoderick leaned over to Corson and called over the tumult of the oxen

Quickly, out the western gate and then we can circle the town and head south

A basic attempt but subtlety would be wasted on cow herders

Rolls

Deception - (D20+5)

(5) + 5 = 10

Jun 7, 2025 8:33 pm
Corson shushes Rhod, hoping to sell the facade...
[ +- ] OOC
Jun 8, 2025 5:15 am
Throughout most of this, Tovrunn had kept her silence. She'd kept it on the road to the compound, then again in the inn as the men she traveled with blundered into the room with all the subtlety of a braying cow through a hunting ground, and again at being left in the room to watch for one of their potential contacts to take a bath. A quiet, relaxing, peaceful bath.

After a moment, Tovrunn decided that she had been through enough, and the idea of a moments relaxation was entirely too tempting. So, taking her leave and the opportunity given, she had gone down to the bathhouse to do just that, and damned be the consequences. She was not going to bed with spiderwebs in her hair.

She would later be glad that she did. While she did not encounter the woman on her way to or from the bathhouse, she did happen across Lancaelad - who was in the middle of hastily shoving her meager belongings back into her bags. After taking a moments time to have their emergent situation explained to her, Tovrunn decided that she really should have seen this coming, which only flared her frustrations even more. The song that Lan requested only reminded her of how much his proportion of her ire weighed.

And now there were bloody oxen in the way, and their owners looking at them as though it was her fault that they weren't stabled properly. Quite frankly, she had had enough. And she intended on letting them know it.

"Blessun vinds og regns til þín!" She shouted in her native tongue, roughly slapping Rhoderick's hand as she massed him and bestowing a small blessing as she did so. Marching forward with all the righteous fury of a powerful woman inconvenienced, in that moment she matched Lancaelad at his worst. "Have you no respect, care, or thought for anything but your own arses?!" She shouted, letting her tongue slip into its native accent and channeling her Gran as she did so. By the gods that woman had a presence.

The Sea-Priest's words finally registering, Tovrunn took his attempt at deception and layered over it one of her own. "The last time that the celestial bodies were aligned such as they are tonight was two hundred years ago, and Erik's teachings demand that my ritual is to begin at sundown! The hillock to the west is perfect for my needs, but apparently your desire to hear a bawdy tavern wench sing about a bawdy milk maid is more important! Move your oxen and be quick about it!"
Last edited June 8, 2025 5:19 am
Jun 8, 2025 7:10 am
A plump merchant pushed out past the ox-handlers as Tovrunn spoke. He had rings on his fingers and a velvet hat perched atop a wild mass of thick hair, though his beard was neatly combed and waxed. "Now listen here-" he began with the flawed refinement of new money "-these oxen are to be stabled by the hostlers." He emphasised the 'h' sharply. "And they're to unstable your mounts too. You barge in here and think you can disrupt everyone else's business just because-" he looked the party up and down "-look to have robbed some petty nobles? This is Endier. Open your purse or wait your turn."
[ +- ] OOC
Jun 8, 2025 2:13 pm
Smiling affably at the fat merchant Rhoderick gave him some friendly advice

I’d not stand between the Lady, her God and their purpose friend

as the merchant squinted up at the Sea Priest, the sun striking his curls and the the power of his blood almost palpable, almost a halo as the words struck at the merchant

Rolls

Persuasion - (D20+5)

(17) + 5 = 22

Guidance - (D4)

(1) = 1

Jun 8, 2025 3:50 pm
The merchant took Rhoderick's measure and seemed impressed enough with what he saw. "Ah, religious types. I know the sort. My own mother's feverishly devout. Nothing bars her venerations to Haelyn morn and eve. Why, were The Gorgon himself at the gates of the Free City no doubt she's bustle him aside before gloaming."

"Still-" the man added "-there's little enough space in those stables as 'tis, and those beasts are foul tempered in their sleep." He waved a glittering hand at the small group of ostlers. "Let these folk tend their own business in future."
Jun 8, 2025 6:49 pm
Lancaelad bristled, and seemed about to give the merchant the rough side of his tongue or back of his hand but good sense prevailed when he saw Rhoderick pouring forth the twice-fold divine charm, and he kept his lips fastened.
Jun 9, 2025 3:42 am
Our mistake, good man, Corson says crisply then turning to the others, Let us leave.
Jun 11, 2025 1:17 am
Tovrunn huffed, her frustrations almost entirely unvented. True, her rational mind knew that starting a fight here and now with a random merchant (no matter how uppity he might be) did absolutely nothing to further their goals, and yes she knew that there was very little that the man had done to deserve such ire, but at the moment she felt almost overwhelmed by the urge to set something on fire. So, strangely, Rhoderick's intervention and Corson's very sensible directive were most unwelcome.

But then she looked towards Lancaelad, and saw the same fury in his eyes as well. That was a troubling revelation.

Instead of lighting the merchants greasy beard alight with the snap of her fingers, she instead smoothed out her clothes, mentally unruffled her feathers, and turned towards her mount. "Let's be off," she said briskly.

Rolls

Deception - (1d20+1d4+1)

(10) + (4) + 1 = 15

Jun 12, 2025 3:33 pm
"Amongst the quiet herd
Without even a word
Came the monster
With lust in its eye."

"But he failed to see across the green valley, where the old bull had noticed him pass.
Heed should he have paid but he fixed on the maid, and the bull came and mounted his arse!"

"HUH!"


Mounting up to the sound of still-fractious oxen and enthusiastic song, the Roesonian contingent made their way out of the tradehouse's gate and into the early evening. Hoping that this at last would be the final leg of their journey.

Riding south as they might to turn to the east and circling around the walled compound out of sight, they paused until the oxen calmed and then, assured that the people inside were now distracted, broke west at a gallop. None of their horses were pleased to be saddled or pushed to such speed, but these were more than mere farm nags to obey was bred in them for generations. Lan suspected however that Ogre would claim his revenge when it came time to once more unfasten tack and harness. He had no doubt that the big mean animal was even now planning just how hard to bite him, and the knight wasn't sure he begrudged his mount a little ill-tempered violence.

Endier was an uncomfortably flat realm, and the ability to see for the leagues and leagues across the fields and pastures that flanked the road to Rivervale made them feel exposed, like the eyes of the whole domain were on them. It also promised a view of any pursuer, but the night was young enough that the roads were still busy and any of the caravans about might be foemen in disguise. The hirelings of the Prince of Rabbits had proven adept at blending with common folk in the past after all. Worse still, where the wilderness was Tovrunn's ally, these settled lands cared little for hampering her should they stray off the road.

Once the Lorn Wastrel and Halfday were outside of casual view the riders slowed - haste only made them conspicuous. Bringing up the rear, Corson siezed on the moment to scan the road for pursuit, and behind them there were indeed riders behind them moving at a brisk pace but he couldn't tell whether they were pursuers or merely travellers hurrying to outpace the night. The absence of cart or caravan amongst them was at least a cause for concern though.

As they continued the sun merged with the horizon, spreading out into a scarlet blanket across the horizon ahead. The sailor in Rhoderick knew that this was a portent of fair weather from the Mother of Storms - a blessing in the form of a blood-red reminder of the sacrifice of the Maesetians - but fleeing unknown pursuers, exhausted, with nothing but hope that some ally waited beneath that gory sky. the red and deepening night felt more like an omen.

Slowly the Wastrel shrunk at their backs until eventually it vanished behind a field of barley. By the time they passed their third party of travellers going to opposite way - a party of farmers and their sheep heading to new pastures, headless of the sleepless and openly paranoid looks the Roesonians gave them - the weight of the hours and miles and tension of the past few days was becoming crushing. An impossible burden that would bury each and every one of them: Tovrunn, Lancaelad, Rhoderick and Corson in a grave of mental and physical exhaustion.

They scarcely heard the whistles of the shepherds at the rear of the flock. Scarcely noticed the shaggy heartlands sheepdogs as they circled the sides of the road, barking. Scarcely noticed that a wall of bodies a dozen deep had formed around them until Ogre drew up, throwing his massive head left and right as he searched for a way past.

But there was no way.
Jun 12, 2025 3:34 pm
"Oh no" breathed Adalric, the chill dread of those two quiet words driving icy spikes into each of the hearts of the battered and spent Roesonians.
Jun 12, 2025 3:39 pm
From the side of the road well beyond the prison of sheep, a figure leading a panting horse emerged from the shadow of a stock shed and approached hastily.

[ +- ] OOC
[ +- ] Vital Info
Jun 12, 2025 6:11 pm
"Greetings Ser Knight and fellow travelers! I have ridden hard to catch you!"
The stranger holds up his empty right hand in greeting. He is of average height and build dressed in mud splattered traveling clothes. Three things make him stand out; his bright red hair, a ring on the third finger of his right hand and a scar running continuously from his hairline and down his left cheek to his jaw sparing his eye.
"Let us separate you from the flock then have a brief rest by yonder shed."

So far, the stranger has not used anyone's name but his demeanor is non-threatening. There is a sense of urgency in his speech and manner and he glances down the road from where the travelers have come several times while he converses. His eyes flick between the shepherds in a meaningful way.
Last edited June 12, 2025 10:33 pm

Rolls

Deception - shepherds - (1d20+2)

(4) + 2 = 6

Jun 12, 2025 6:21 pm
Corson looks from the newcomer to Lancaelad, and back.
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