RP Session 4: "A Halfday's Ride

May 3, 2025 4:21 pm
Corson: HP 24/31 | HD 3 | Inspiration [✓].
Lancaelad: HP 28/28 | HD 3 | Inspiration | DECIDER.
Rhoderick: HP 19/19 | HD 3 | Inspiration [✓].
Tovrunn: HP 19/22 | HD 3 | Inspiration .
Available NPCs: Adalric
Total XP: 1,800/2,700
Deliver Adalric Safely to Halfday: +900xp milestone
Brave the Spiderfell and Live: +350xp milestone
Learn How to Escape Shivhi: +350xp milestone
Current Initiative Order: Out of Initiative
May 5, 2025 12:13 pm
The Spiderfell was an unnatural realm. The trees grew in gnarled tangles, their ugly boughs wrapping around each other as if battling for the light; the natural tranquillity of the wood twisted into desperate strangulation. The ground beneath was boggy, and the shafts of light that pierced through like spears seemed too harsh, too caustic, casting quivering blotches of bleached earth into razor-sharp contrast. And everywhere thick ropes of web hung pendulous from above, tiny glittering eyes watching the quintet of riders' every move from the shadows.

When the winding pathways allowed, or when Tovrunn's horse stumbled on a pathway that they were certain had not been there a moment ago, they would ride within sight of the border to track their path with distant towns and garrisons. When they spotted the tower called Falcon's Roost (home to the wizard Caine) they would turn due west and ride hard for their destination.

Until then, it was the stifled menace of the wood.
May 5, 2025 12:13 pm
Corson seemed more at ease once they entered the Spider Wood, facing creatures of the wood were definitely preferable to the evils of man. Spiders, though, were hunters as well, but at least he knew why they hunt.

The squire looked to his companions, the looks of determination brought him solace. We will make it through this. Okay, Corson, make yourself useful...

The Order of the Green called the wode its home, and hopefully Corson had not been away too long that his memory faded...
May 6, 2025 3:55 pm
Rhoderick eyed the surroundings nervously. The storms tended to blow over and around the Spiderfell as the forest canopy protected the interior. He touched his flask of sea water, muttered a prayer to the Mother of Storms and grasped the handle of his mace.
May 6, 2025 3:58 pm
If the land reflected the blooded lord that ruled it, then the Spiderfell was a glimpse into an ancient, diseased heart twisted and knotted by hate, clutching greed and tenacious possessiveness. Strands of adhesive silk clung to the horses' hooves with each step they took, and pauses to make sure that no crawling creature was preparing to dig its fangs into a haunch, a wither, or the back of a rider's neck were more frequent than stops for water. By all accounts, there were a thousand breeds of spider in these tainted woods that with one bite could kill a horse before it took ten strides, let alone a man.

Lancaelad's bravado was a blend of overweening self-confidence and desperate compensation for a deep streak of ungallant self-preservation that comprised his soul. However, some gift of Basaïa's bloodline meant that this caution – let us not say cowardice – did not extend to the more unnatural and abominable inhabitants of Cerilia. He might decline to face men armed with steel if the odds were not in his favour, but his heart did not quail in the least when faced with the walking dead or awnsheglien. Or at least, at the thought of them – he had never crossed paths with any of those creatures of darker legend in his young life.

So he rode high in the saddle, chin out, almost daring the Spider and its minions, whether two-legged or eight to dare to block their way. Yet he flinched when dangling coils of dank webbing or hoary tree-moss brushed his hood, and he shifted uncomfortably as it felt as if tiny spiders were skittering through and beneath the links of his maille at all times. "Courage, my friends," he said with a brittle brightness. "The Fells are a maze grown for the unwary – but we are not that. Have... have courage."

Surely it was his imagination that the thick, groping boughs echoed his words and returned them as a mocking whisper.

Courage – currahge – khrrr-ahhhjjj – khraaahj – kra-ah-ah-ah-jhhh...
May 20, 2025 1:44 pm
With deep measured breaths Tovrunn did her best to listen to her fiance for once. Though she bore the blood of bare chested berserkers and saltstung reavers who faced storms and seas and blood and steel grinning like madmen, she herself was none of those things. What she was, was isolated. First from her homelands, the trees and woods and fjords she knew so well, and again from the safety and warmth that the halls of the Anuireans had provided her. Now though, wandering through the gnarled and twisted wood that was home to the Spider, a creature so ancient and evil that it seemed as though the presence of her god was a laughable afterthought, now she had found a new form of isolation; never before had she felt so disconnected from her surroundings as she had now.

She wondered if this was how the others felt as they had made their way through forest and field and fens, if those lands seemed as strange and foreboding to them as this place was to her. It was discomforting, a harsh and hollow sound at the edge of hearing, a weight in the air that could not be shaken off. A warped reflection of that which she knew and in that reflection, made terrible. And though a wood it was and such beholden to the power of Erik that flowed inside her veins, Tovrunn got the distinct sensation that these woods did so distainfully.

"This whole blighted forest should be put to the torch," she hissed through clenched teeth, her eyes caught between wandering about their surroundings and focused intently on finding their path. Blasphemy it might be, but wildfires were in Erik's domain too. It was hard to keep the fear from her voice, and she was not sure she succeeded. "We should not linger."
May 20, 2025 1:44 pm
Corson smiled reassuringly, "Normally, spiders play an important role in the circle of life. This place, though, has a sense of foreboding that is palpable..."
May 20, 2025 1:48 pm
Adalric shuddered. "I doubt even fire would purge the evil from this place. I have heard sailors speak of the terrible foreboding that takes hold of a man's heart when first he sets foot upon the Isle of the Serpent, but this place is like nothing I have heard beyond stories of the realm of the Basilisk. Surely no mercenary would follow us here for a soldier's pay..."
May 20, 2025 1:49 pm
They rode on through the sickly, overharsh light, stopping to send Corson and Tovrunn to scout to the west every so often as the land began gradually to defy even the Rjurik maid's craft to navigate. As they did the pathways narrowed as fat thorny vines and arm-thick ropes of webbing formed walls between the trees. Occasionally the path would dead end, only for a tiny, previously unseen game track to present itself just as they reached the obstruction. It was as if a silent war between the dead ghost of the Old Father of Forests and the vile corruption of the Dark One made silent war in the twisted undergrowth.

Once, twice, three times, four Lan and Rhoderick stood guard over Adalric whilst the woodsman and priestess rode off and returned. On the fifth time though, the pair found their way blocked by a ravine - a maw in the earth that rose up on either side like a gaping wound - the very earth puckered up like withered flesh and the depths completely hidden beneath a blanket of silk that swarmed with malicious arachnid life. Spiders of all manner of vivid and venomous hue waiting below.

Navigating the thing in this maze would take time, and so they returned prematurely to their companions to decide whether to press on not knowing if they were straying east or backtrack into the arms of any fell minion the Spider might have put upon their trail.
May 20, 2025 1:50 pm
"This once was a part of the Erebannien wode, though long ago, many generations past. I can still see hints of the old wode before it was twisted by the mad Awnsheigh took power. I may be able to help with navigating this labyrinth... Lady Tovrunn, help me look for these signs. Perhaps, with the help of your inspiration, we can let the wode lead us through." Corson seemed lost in thought.
May 20, 2025 1:51 pm
"This was once of a whole with the Erebannien?" Lan looked stricken at the thought. To him it was like seeing a great king reduced to diseased penury, or a fair maiden withered with age and spite. "Tales of antiquity say that Tal-Qazar, the warlord of the goblins that rallied to Azrai's black banner when the old gods went to war at Deismaar, was the first of the accursed to discover that a blow to the heart could steal the divine endowment of other scions, and that his hunger for bloodtheft in the centuries since is rivalled only by the Gorgon. Yet if what you say is true, squire, then tainting these woods with his foul presence is yet his direst crime. If only we had the time to bring the wicked web-weaver to task for his evil deeds! But the needs of our mission prevail." He glared to (what he imagined) was the east, as if only Adalric's company was keeping him from riding off to challenge a millennia and a half old abomination that had killed more heroes than Lan had had name-days.

"This spider-haunted ravine you came across, my lady. How far did its breadth stretch? How tall and sturdy are the trees about? Mayhaps we might fell one to make a bridge." He thumbed the hatchet at his belt.
May 20, 2025 1:52 pm
With lips pursed in disappointment, Tovrunn shakes her head. "It is too far for a tree to cross, and too dangerous to try to descend and ascend again. I fear we must either venture deeper than we'd wished and search for a way around, or backtrack and hope we aren't being followed. In either case..."

Glancing about, she spots a hole in the canopy where the too-bright light shines through and forms her hands about her mouth in a nearly silent bird call. Then, a moment later, swooping silently out of the canopy as though he had always been there, came Ira. Holding her arm aloft, the not-quite-bird landed gently, his talons gripping her sleeve with only the strength necessary to keep from toppling. "Ira will scout for us," she said, mentally directing him to search for a path around the ravine and report back. Then, with a fling of her arm the owl took flight and slipped through the hole in the tree cover into the open sky.
May 20, 2025 1:56 pm
It would take perhaps a quarter of an hour for the feathered familiar to pass the ravine and then spot the border over the treetops (that is if they were still on track), and acceptable risk to navigate these cursed woods safely. However when that time passed and more the risk of staying still in the awnsheigh's wood grew.

Had they veered off course? Then Ira's flight might take longer. Or had the familiar fallen foul of the many denizens of the woods that would take an own for nothing more than a tasty snack? Neither was a promising outcome.

Rhoderick meanwhile was beginning to feel... wrong. His temples began to throb and an unseen band seemed to constrict ever tighter around his forehead. Ever attentive to their uncanny surroundings, Corson noticed that the colour was slowly draining from the Nesirite's face and he was beginning to sweat.

In the same moment that Rhoderick began to realise that this fit of pique was more than a passing moment, a sudden thought came to him with absolute surety: He's watching. There was no telling who 'he' was (though a wager on the terrible lord of this realm might be a safe bet) but the thought was as certain as it was vague, as if someone outside the warrior priest had planted it there. The terrible pressure that left him feeling sick and dizzy - it was the attention of something old and powerful and immeasurably malicious. Attention focused through a thousand thousand tiny opal eyes hidden all around them.

"What's this now pets? Chu thinks some mansy riders is about in us woods then?" came a voice, nasal and greasy, from the way they had come. The patter of too-many feet and the crunching of undergrowth came from the way they had come, and a raspy panting, and the hiss of steel. Turning the five travellers saw a small party emerging from the woods.

The speaker was a painfully thin goblin, with mail of a strangely bluish steel hanging limply from razor-blade shoulders and a hood that mercifully hid much of a heavily a scarred countenance. A glint of yellow teeth was enough to evidence a cruel smirk. In his hand he held a pitted glaive, and he sat on the back of massive arachnid the colour of a fresh bruise, its terrible fangs black as night and wet with venom.

At his side loped two towering, hunched figures with shoulders thick with matted fur and the heads of hideous scavengers. Their elongated, dangling arms and dead eyes gave them a terrible menace. Behind this vanguard came five other goblins on foot, each in ragged armour and carrying a mix of weathered bows and barbed spears. A scouting party! Despite his welcome, the goblins seemed as surprised to have stumbled upon their quarry as the Roesonian contingent were and they stood in a cluster at the mouth of the path, but their intentions were clear. No doubt Tal-Qazar sought to bolster his divine blood.
May 20, 2025 1:56 pm
Corson surveys the arrangement of goblins and immediately begins formulating a plan of attack.
May 20, 2025 1:57 pm
Patience was not one of Lancaelad Noelon's virtues, so after a few minutes of waiting for the owl's silent return he dismounted Ogre, giving the destrier a respite from his mailled weight, and ensured the horses were fed and watered. He had just swung back into the saddle when the snide voice came from behind them. Lan wheeled his mount around, eyes widening and blood simmering as he saw the motley band of inhuman trackers leering out of the woods.

Goblins! Skirmishes with that rank breed were not uncommon in northern Roesone. In some kingdoms they had the trappings of civilisation and could be treated as unruly, sly neighbours, but the Spiderfell's inhabitants were brigands and throat-slitters to a man. The gnolls were perhaps even worse, at best mercenaries that would serve any master for silver and first pick of the carcasses of the dead.

"Paidrig, my lance! Oh, damn him," Lan growled. He unlimbered the long, steel-tipped shaft himself, glaring at the rabble around the bizarre sight of the spider-cavalry. That was something he had never been trained to match with. "Slithering after us was your last mistake, wretches. You'll carry no word of us back to your master, until they find your mouldering bodies!"
May 20, 2025 1:57 pm
"Alright then." Corson moves to draw his sword and shield.
May 20, 2025 1:58 pm
Throughout Ira's absence Tovrunn had remained distracted, focused intently on her familiar's flight. She had kept in contact with him through the telepathic bond that is created during his summoning, but it did not last for long. In truth, he was still within eyesight when she could no longer reach him. Now, she simply had to trust in his judgement on when to return.

It was not an easy thing to do.

Used to having more control over any situation she found herself in, Tovrunn found herself anxious, and had dismounted in order to tend to her horse, trying in vain to distract herself. It was here, dismounted and distracted, that the goblins came upon them. Tovrunn glanced between Lancaelad and the spindly one sitting atop a grotesque engorged copy of the tiny eight-legged web-weavers that infested the trees around them. His demeanor would lead to only one outcome, so by the time he had recovered his lance a spell was already pulled together in her hands.

"Take cover!" she shouted to Aldaric before unleashing the spell she had utilized at the docks to cover their retreat. Once again she slammed the spell down into the ground, and briefly Erik's hold over this land superseded the grip of the foul awnsheigh's power. All about the goblins, the forest came alive, with vines and roots and blades of grass all reaching and grabbing and snaring at the Spider's servants.
May 20, 2025 1:59 pm
Tovrunn reached out to her God, but Erik's voice seemed somehow muffled in these polluted woods. It was as if another will held sway here, and while no mortal could wholly obstruct a God, the Spider was scarcely mortal anymore. Tal Qazar had fought in that same battle that made Erik a God, bathed in the same divine essence, and the awnsheigh's will alone meant that this place was scarcely still a wilderness in a manner the Rjurik maid recognised. He prayers felt... muted, and the grasping limbs of the woodland faltered - their brittle fingers snapping at even the least force. Only the tracer perched atop the massive arachnid was tangled - an overhead vine snaring his arm and weapon even as he raised it to command his rabble.

With a snarl of frustration that twisted his dagger features the near skeletal goblin wrenched futilely at his glaive, but when it held fast he turned his glare at Tovrunn and thrust out his other hand, palm outward toward her. "Nai Sa Rwatt!" he screeched, and a miasma of sickly flame formed about his hand before streaking toward her, exploding across her chest. Tovrunn's mail blackened and she could feel the metal heat, but it was enough to protect her from all but the greasy smoke that rose to her nostrils.
May 20, 2025 2:00 pm
The twisted foulness of the Spiderfell was an affront to the Storm Mother. The band in front of them were the perfect example of that. The priest was both enraged and disgusted.

With an effort of will Rhoderick’s eyes flashed white and a clap of Thunder erupted in the middle of the Goblins.
May 20, 2025 2:01 pm
The sudden divinely-inspired assault must have caught the goblins off guard - clustered together they were an easy target for Tovrunn and Rhoderick's powers, but the creatures seemed uncannily resilient. Not only did they defy capture by the vines and branches, but they also weathered the concussive bellow of Nesirie's damnation. Though many of their number staggered, blood bloomed from their ears, and much of the undergrowth was torn apart, only a single goblin was thrown like a lifeless ragdoll away from the force and into the canopy above.

Tasting their own blood, violence ringing in their ears the pair of gnolls split off and loped around either flank of the party of travellers, each pulling a bow from their shoulders and taking aim as they advanced. Crude arrows flew for both Lan and Rhoderick with the snap of taut sinew.
May 20, 2025 2:01 pm
Making his way to the fore, Corson readies his shield, readying his blade!
May 20, 2025 2:02 pm
The first of the gnolls' arrows buzzed past Rhoderick's ear like an angry hornet, but the second's timing was blessed, and it caught Lancaelad squarely in the flank, passing beneath his shield as the knight roared a challenge. The arrow tore a gash in the soft leathers the knight wore beneath his armour and left his ribs exposed where the ruined mail now hung loosely from his belt.

Pushing swiftly past Lan, Corson marched up to the more injured of the gnolls and made a lunge for its stomach. Waiting until the towering creature bent forward to pull away from his lunge the knight of the wodes changed the angle of his thrust, slicing up and into the now exposed chin.

The blade, grimy and tarnished was kept lethally sharp and it bit deep into flesh and found bone, leaving the gnoll a gory flap of hanging flesh where its lower jaw had been. The thing staggered back, canine eyes wide enough that he could see the white ring at their edges, but then its gaze snapped to the warrior's face and it shrieked a gurgling laugh through its ruined mouth, spitting flecks of blood over his simple green surcoat.

The four surviving goblins meanwhile began to circle, retreating from Tovrunn's unnatural thicket to place it between themselves and their foes. The pair with bows sent arrows towards Rhoderick and Lan as the gnolls had, while the spear-armed survivors readied themselves to answer a charge with deadly force.
May 20, 2025 2:03 pm
Indignation, rather than pain was Lan's first reaction. "For the Black Hart and the – augh!" he yelped. He glance down and saw the barbed arrow quivering under his arm, and flush with the mead of battle that numbed men to injury he swept the edge of his shield against it, breaking off the shaft. In the long run it would make the wound worse, but at least it freed up that side of his body for mobility.

"Filthy beast!" he screamed, his face turning as crimson as the blood down his side. "You dare raise arms against a scion of Roesone?! Cuiraécen, make my lance your vengeful bolt!" Lan's spurs dug into Ogre's flanks and the horse erupted into motion, the horse's nostrils flaring as he scented enemies and heard the clamour of combat.

The ground ahead churned as Tovrunn called upon Aeric to make the green growing things turn against the goblin band, and then exploded as Rhoderick invoked thunder to match. Lan's ears rang as if someone had swung a warhammer against both sides of his head, and he didn't even hear the crunch of his lance slamming into the gnoll that had loosed on him. The beastman was sent scrambling but not down, and Lan gritted his teeth and hauled on Ogre's reins. His mount veered sharply to the right, galloping down a path between a rocky embankment and gnarled claw-like trees before Lan spun him around to face back towards the fray.
May 20, 2025 2:03 pm
The gnoll caught the blow on the ragged piecemeal of its armour and managed to stagger clear of the lance's tip, it was glancing but then in the heat of battle all blows were until they weren't. Meanwhile the great spider, easily the side of five men, looked lethargically at the melee breaking out with eight glittering eyes. As ogre thundered by the creature finally decided to move, and with frightening agility it lunged forward leaving the goblin that had been perched on its back dangling from, the vines.

Corson stood a few yards ahead of the monster arachnid, and it slammed its vast bulk into him even as the gnoll spat its hyena howls back at the knight of the green.
May 20, 2025 2:04 pm
"Not good enough, Spider" Corson spits.
May 20, 2025 2:04 pm
Groaning in exasperation as her spell had not accomplished nearly what she had hoped it would, Tovrunn pulled the crystal from her neck. As she had done on the docks only a few days beforehand, light rippled out from the stone, enveloping and infusing the druid's body with the first starlight that the undergrowth of the canopy of spiders had likely seen in decades. And, as she had done at the docks, she traced the symbol of The Hunter onto her forearm, causing a quiversful of miniature arrows made of light to wrap around her wrist.

Plucking one out, she drew it as though it was an arrow and sent it flying towards the most injured of the goblins that had slipped her spell's grasp. "Wēta fylgð ljós!" she shouted immediately afterwards, bending magically conjured light into a javelin which she sent hurtling towards the massive spider accosting Corson. Then, quite gracefully, she ducked for cover behind the nearby rocks. She was not keen on standing out in the open and inviting retaliation, luminous a target as she was.
May 20, 2025 2:05 pm
The incandescent warrior's bolts both flew true. The enormous spider, intent as it was on Corson who at least for now seemed too canny for it, scarcely seemed to notice the arrow that grazed over it's bulbous abdomen but the nearest of the goblins took the arrow full in the throat even as it waved its spear threateningly at Lancaelad. It died without a sound at its fellows feet.

Now separated from the spider, the bent tracker dropped from amongst Tovrunn's vines but his feet became quickly ensnared. Opting not to struggle further, he spat the words of his spell again and sent an arrow of flame after Tovrunn even as she ducked behind a stack of web-wrapped boulders.
May 20, 2025 2:05 pm
Appalled by the Tracker’s attack at Tovrunn, Rhoderick rushed at the foul creature.

He concluded the knights could handle their opponents.

shouting a plea to the Storm Mother he slid to a stop at the edge of the magical entanglement and used his momentum to spin and aim a back hand swinging blow at the cruel visage using his wickedly spiked mace.
May 20, 2025 2:06 pm
Nesirie was ever listening, and though his opponent caught the blow of the mace on a bracer and turning it aside, the goblin's wince showed Rhoderick that he was beginning the long and familiar process of wearing foe down. The goblin leader snarled and hefted his spear from amongst the brambles. Even as he did the gnoll off to the warrior-priest's right, either sensing its master in danger or simply hungry for a foe, charged into Rhoderick with a cackling howl.

Its fellow with the ruined face, chest already a mass of steaming gore, began raining berserker blows down on Corson.
May 20, 2025 2:06 pm
Corson sweeps at the spider's legs trying to take them out from under the vermin!
May 20, 2025 2:06 pm
The colossal spider was a simple creature, and Corson's lightening fast riposte at its feet was clearly not what the thing was expecting. It stumbled back a few steps, off balance and clattering its mandibles in frustration.

The cluster of wounded goblins meanwhile maintained the cover of Tovrunn's spell, circling to the east and once more loosing their arrows at Lan as he wheeled Ogre about. The single survivor with the spear digging his weapon's shaft once again into the earth again a charge. All three glanced back towards the woods as if measuring their retreat.
May 20, 2025 2:07 pm
Lancaelad felt a sting in his scalp, but dismissed it as a clawing twig from one of the Spiderfell's gnarled trees – until blood seeped down his brow into his eyes. Then he realised that the goblins were hurling their nasty little arrows at him, and raised his shield just in time to catch another shot, quivering in the good Roesonean oak.

"Curs!" he snarled, his eyes blazing a blue fury. Lan shook the blood from his eyes and filled his lungs, this time uttering his family war-cry unimpeded: "For the Black Hart and the Hawk!" His spurs jabbed Ogre's flanks, and the great beast snorted in agreement.

Kicking up rank tainted soil, Ogre came upon them like an avalanche of muscle and foam-flecked muzzle. Lan's lance flicked out across his mount's neck to the left, scoring a powerful blow against the closest gnoll. He veered around the scuttling mass of the spider's twitching legs and thrust a second time at the jawless, berserk gnoll, but the creature was too wildly moving for him to find his mark. Lan tossed his lance to the forest floor and threw his weight to the side, bringing Ogre around in a half-loop around the writhing, animated undergrowth and approaching the goblins from the flank, pinning them between himself and the entanglement.

He drew his crow's bill, blood and sweat painting his face in a grizzly mask of violence as he glowered down at the spearmen and archers. "Face me or flee, Spider-slaves!"
May 20, 2025 2:08 pm
The remaining spear-wielding goblin had prepared itself against an assault, and as Lan wheeled Ogre around and drew his pick the creature jabbed at him even as the mounted warrior loomed over the horribly wounded trio.

The spider meanwhile scrambled back to its many feet, its barbed feet skittering across the forest floor. Once it had regained its balance the malevolent arachnid once more brought its terrible mandibles to bear.
May 20, 2025 2:08 pm
Corson grunts in pain. "Fair enough..."
May 20, 2025 2:09 pm
Watching the massive spider sink its teeth into Corson's flesh, Tovrunn let slip a horrified gasp. Immediately refocusing on the massive arachnid, Tovrunn snapped a flame to life in one hand and conjured another arrow of light with the other, sending both hurtling towards the monstrous beast.

The rational part knew that the beast had to be close to death. The primal part of her knew that if Corson fell, the next one to be the spider's meal would probably be her.
May 20, 2025 2:09 pm
Still hopelessly trapped by the thorns Tovrunn had conjured, and now beset by Rhoderick, the Spider's Tracer hefted his glaive but instead of lunging at the heavily armoured Nesirite he began hacking at the virulent mass of vines and roots about his feet.
May 20, 2025 2:09 pm
Recognising the fatigue and frustration in the trapped Goblin Rhodri dipped his head behind his Shield and unleashed an uppercut with his Mace towards the Goblins jaw.

With a cry to the Storm Mother he again swung with all his might at the Goblin hoping the magical undergrowth would compensate for his lack of finesse.
May 20, 2025 2:09 pm
Even as Rhoderick landed a staggering blow against the trapped goblin, the gnoll to his left continued its savage assault. Its fellow, though growing sluggish with blood loss, did the same against a staggered Corson who was struggling against the venom of the enormous spider.
May 20, 2025 2:10 pm
Corson, unsteady on his feet, feels the burning of the spider's toxin running through his veins. Pull yourself together, squire! People are depending on you... Catching his second wind, he pulls inspiration from his companions and his mission and strikes again at the spider!
May 20, 2025 2:10 pm
Marshalling near all that he had left in his Corson lunged forward, hacking clean through the foremost of the spider's legs. The limb tore clean away in a spray of foul arachnid ichor and the monstrous frame juddered, staggered, but would not fall.

Meanwhile, faced by Lan and his raging behemoth of a warhorse the remaining pair of goblins broke for the forest the way they had come, ducking easily under his swings as they fell back. Were they fleeing or seeking out a better spot from which to launch their devious attacks? Or perhaps fetching reinforcements? It was hard to say.
May 20, 2025 2:11 pm
Ogre reared back, his hooves wet with blood from one goblin's shattered skull, whinnying in fury. Ser Lancaelad gave a contemptuous snort of triumph as the other two scattered into the woods, confidently assuming they would not dare face his prowess or the might of his steed.

That might proved to be tricky as he cast a glance back to the rest of the skirmish, where the priest of Nesirie and the squire were both outnumbered (and outmatched, in his self-important opinion). Ogre had the scent of battle in his nostrils now, and would take a few precious moments to rein in. Instead, Lan kicked free of the stirrups and dropped smoothly to the forest floor, and in a clatter of mail and spurs edged his way around the writhing vine-patch to come shoulder to shoulder with Rhoderick.

He swung his crow's bill at the dangling goblin tracker, but the wretch was wriggling so much it was hard to find his mark for more than a scratch.
May 20, 2025 2:11 pm
Reeling back from the horrific injury, the spider let out a defiant hiss and brought all of its massive weight down on the bloodied Corson. He was outnumbered and the burn of the spider's venom was still hot in his joints, but if he could just hold for a few more moments then Lancaelad and Tovrunn could tip the scales of his dire battle at the centre of the melee.

The monster came down, terrible hairy mandibles dripping with noxious hatred, only to thud with bone-jarring might into the tree emblazoned on the knight's shield. The enormous, alien head was close enough to Corson's face that the knight could see malignant frustration in the thing's many eyes, but perhaps also a blossom of fear?
May 20, 2025 2:12 pm
Grimacing as her magical missiles both flew wide of their target, Tovrunn could only watch in horror as the monstrous arachnid's fangs sank into Corson's flesh. Quickly re-evaluating the battlefield, the druid mentally flicked through her options before deciding that now was not the time for reservations. Snapping another ember of flame alight, instead of flinging it at one of their numerous enemies she instead whispered the same incantation she had only just under a day ago and tossed it into the fray.

Quickly, the mote of fire doubled in size, and then doubled again, until it was a raging inferno as wide and tall as a man. With a forceful tug, she pulled it into the spider, praying to Erik that the creature's missing leg was enough to lame the beast. And, just for good measure, she conjured a second arrow of light and aimed it as well.
May 20, 2025 2:12 pm
Seeing the desperate battle in which Corson found himself, Tovrunn marshalled her energies. The towering orb of flame that had decimated the Diemen warcamp once again came forth, but this time instead of forging its sluggish but inevitable path of destruction Tovrunn redoubled her meditative prayers and the flames darted forward into the enormous spider. The creature was immediately engulfed with flame, its brittle limbs bursting and poppling like kindling as it vanished in a pall of oily black smoke.

The shaft of light that flew from celestial bow faded long before it reached the maimed gnoll however, Tovrunn's will was simply too divided to keep the missile in this world.

As the ball of flame roared into being, the vines that entangled the last of the goblins gradually fell back as if returning to slumber limp on the forest floor. With Lancaelad evening the numbers in Rhoderick's bloody melee (even as Ogre thundered after the retreating goblins with a derisive snort), the tracer bared his jagged yellow teeth in a grin, but it turned to a snarl as the spider was consumed by fire. Only two combatants remained from his little raiding party, and yet the pinkskins were hurt too.

Calculating is choices, the hooded goblin whirled his rusty glaive and thrust for Rhoderick's flank. Perhaps with half their number felled he'd make offerings of these trespassers yet.
May 20, 2025 2:13 pm
Brushing the spear thrust aside with his shield Rhoderick continued aiming his punishing blows at the Goblin.

They were winning but he wanted to get over to check on Corson but needed his own assailants to be defeated first
May 20, 2025 2:13 pm
It was clear that with the spider's demise the tides of battle were turning, and though the tracer and his gnoll entourage fought on. The tracer might have some strategy in mind, but the gnolls knew only bloodthirsty savagery. Without tactic or fear the continued their furious assaults, froth on their lips and hunger burning in their eyes.
May 20, 2025 2:13 pm
Corson, no longer worried about the spider, circled the gnoll... Feinting a shield bash, the squire brings his blade up and across to take advantage of the feral beastman's reaction!
May 20, 2025 2:14 pm
The bloodthirsty gnoll took the bait without hesitation, and Corson's sword cleanly skewered the thing's jaw and punched out through the top of its skull. The light went out in its eyes even as it dropped its weapon and clawed at Corson, flecks of foam and blood spattering the squire's face until, with a tittering death rattle it slumped against him and slid down his shield.

If the death of their fellows and the furious warhorse descending upon them wasn't enough to convince the surviving goblins that the fight was lost then the spider and the gnoll falling moments apart was. The pair scrambled into a thorny thicket and Ogre snorted in fury as he tried to stomp his way through the web-choked brush.
May 20, 2025 2:14 pm
Behind the skirmish was the flash of heat like a giant's oven being cracked open, the sizzle of spiderflesh and dying snarl of a gnoll. The tide was turning, but the spider's former rider was frustratingly well armoured. Lan tossed his head, flicking drops of sweat and blood to the forest floor.

"That is no goblin-steel. What honourable Anuirean knight did you pilfer that hauberk from, knave?" As the writhing vines subsided he realised the tracer would be even more difficult to strike solidly, so he changed tactics. An unarmed goblin was no threat at all. Lan waited for a thrust with the glaive, deflecting it off his shield and swinging his crow's bill to catch the haft of the goblin's weapon with its hooked point. He twisted his body with a grunt, using his strength and height as leverage...
May 20, 2025 2:15 pm
Lan's weapon caught the haft of the glaive, but the tracer was fast and the crows bill found no purchase.

"Arrogant mansy-thing" the goblin sneered in its grating rasp "what goblins wins is goblin's own. Did you makes your iron, or the mountain?"
May 20, 2025 2:16 pm
Tovrunn's look of alarm quickly turned into a smile as the spider menacing Corson burst into flames. The sick, stinking smell of burning hair and chitin filled the glade as the monster's carapace cooked. Corson was now free to turn his full attention to the gnoll, and proved how dangerous that attention could be a moment later as he fed the frothing jaws his sword.

The tide was turning.

Refocusing on the other skirmish that was happening involving Rhoderick and Lancaelad, Tovrunn glanced around the clearing. It would be difficult maneuvering her conjured sphere in this forest, and with webs everywhere the last thing their group needed was for her to cut off any potential retreat by lighting and inferno. Mentally visualizing a path through the air that had comparatively little in the way of webbing, she moved the flaming sphere off of the smouldering carcass of the spider and guided it around the left side of the remaining gnoll, keeping care to not set the grass at least alight. If the canopy caught them at least they would have a few moments to flee.

"Rhoderick! Move!" she shouted, guiding the fire towards the gnoll, and throwing another much smaller more of fire at it for good measure.
May 20, 2025 2:16 pm
Seeing the Tracer turn to run Rhoderick swung his mace at the foul creature once more
May 20, 2025 2:16 pm
Lan snorted at the tracer's cowardice, though it was not unexpected. He shifted his stance quickly and swept his crow's bill at the goblin's ankles and calves.
May 20, 2025 2:17 pm
Hunching his shoulders against the heat of the fire and the slavering assault of the Gnoll, the armoured Neserite stepped away from the combat and followed the Tracer.

When he approached about 60 feet his eyes rolled back to white once more and he commanded in a thunderous whisper ‘approach’ to the Tracer.
May 20, 2025 2:17 pm
There was no choice - Rhoderick had to get away from the ball of flame that now dominated the small clearing even if the burst of speed made him vulnerable. Even as it capered back from the flames itself the bloodfrenzied the gnoll took a wild swing at him, but the flames made it impossible to make good its attack. In return the son of Nesire unleashed a thunderous report that tossed his attacker past the flames and away, but even as Rhoderick felt his spell take hold over the retreating goblin the enraged gnoll refused to leave him be and exploding in a shower of sparks through the now-smouldering undergrowth it doggedly ran him down.

Whether it was because it had once again been deafened by the voice of the storm or the continued assault of spellcraft, the gnoll wasn't able to brig its savagery to bear, and Rhoderick was able to back-pedal and catch its blow on his shield.
May 20, 2025 2:18 pm
Corson takes a breath and surges toward the remaining gnoll then dropping his sword, curls his hand into a fist before hurling a mass of briar-like vies at the gnoll!
May 20, 2025 2:18 pm
Cursing as the goblin spider-rider slipped his grasp, Lan straightened and hefted his weapon against his shoulder, glancing about and reckoning distance. He cringed behind his shield, guarding his face from the wave of heat as that same crackling, walking bonfire Tovrunn had used to wreak havoc on the Dieman camp enveloped the gnoll - then the seared, shockingly resilient cynocephalus burst from the flames, stinking like a smouldering privy carpet, and ran down the priest.

Imperious words boomed like an echo of the thunder Rhoderick had called down before, and even squire Corson seemed to call forth those clutching briars that had bound the goblins. Amazed and unnerved by the displays of sacred magicks all around him, Lan could only rely his narrower, nobler focus. He put two gauntleted fingers to his lips and gave a piercing, lilting whistle, hoping Ogre would desist from his rampage long enough to heed the call.
May 20, 2025 2:19 pm
With her quarry fleeing, Tovrunn was half-inclined to let the spell drop and retrieve their horses to move past this incident; they had undoubtedly been noticed by higher powers by now. But, the men in her company seemingly disagreed, so it was with only moderate annoyance that she piloted her conjured flame forward, passing it between the Nesiri warpriest and the Green Knight in pursuit of their fastest adversary. Snapping another swath of flame alight, she threw it at the smoldering gnoll, and when that did not end it, she bid her spell to follow
May 20, 2025 2:19 pm
The burst of fire caught the gnoll, eliciting a yap of pain and scorching the flesh of its face and shoulder into a bubbling, semi-liquid mass. It turned raging, feral eyes to Tovrunn only to see its ruin bearing down on it as the ball of fire that had felled the spider claimed another victim. The gnolls screams of pain died quickly as smoke filled its throat, but it writhed and convulsed in agony at the heart of the inferno for far longer until its body turned hard and black like a mass of gnarled coal.

The tracer meanwhile, limbs stiff with resistance, turned and rushed past Lancaelad toward Rhoderick.
May 20, 2025 2:20 pm
Muttering thanks to the Storm Mother Rhoderick stepped nervously away from the fire that had just consumed the Gnoll, stepping to put the Tracer between himself and the blaze.

Then swung his mace at the entranced creature with all of his might!
May 20, 2025 2:20 pm
Corson snatches up his blade from the ground and moves up to the Tracer... Executing a feint, the squire reverses his grip and tries to come up on the Tracer's blindside!
May 20, 2025 2:20 pm
Ogre's hooves scuffed the Spiderfell's dry forest floor as Lan pulled on the reins, twisting his mount around as the goblin backtracked, obeying the priests demand. He leaned out of the saddle as he thundered down on the last enemy, swinging his crow's bill like a mallet in the Khinasi game of chovgan, imported to Anuire as polo...

And swung high, missing the goblin's hunched head by a mile.
May 20, 2025 2:21 pm
The goblin cast about him, his retreat thwarted by the onslaught of magic that had rained down since first this skirmish began. As he did a distant horn sounded from somewhere to the south.
May 20, 2025 2:38 pm
With the last of their opponents cornered and compelled to stay put, Tovrunn began to maneuver her sphere of hot fiery death towards the goblin leader. However, a horn to the south turned her mood sour. There were more coming.

"Cut him loose!" She shouted, piloting her conjured flame south and using it to form a trench of fire, pushing it first into the gnarled tree to the left before dragging it along the ground to catch as much of the brush as she could. There was no going back that way now; better to set it alight and run.

She did snap a second, smaller flame alight and toss it the goblins way as she retreated however. A parting gift, she thought ruefully.
May 20, 2025 2:39 pm
Ser Lancaelad grimaced as his blow missed the devilishly well-armoured goblin. "Your scuttling master's favour will not save you!"

He glanced over his shoulder as the horn sounded through the woods, a low and mocking rumble that stirred the branches. The other goblins had raised a hue and cry against the invaders. Fear etched itself across his face at the thought of the Spider's entire host descending on them. "My lady! Corson! Rhoderick! Back to your mounts! I will hold this one," he panted, driving Ogre in a tromping half-circle to try and block the tracer from the others.
May 20, 2025 2:39 pm
Corson salutes the Tracer and takes a measured retreat to his horse...
May 20, 2025 2:39 pm
Judging the mounted warrior to be the greatest threat to his escape amongst the encircling enemies, the tracer brought the glaive low, ducking beneath Tovrun's burst of magic and lunging up in an arc of steel at Lancaelad, using his close proximity to catch the knight beneath the shield with a bruising blow.
May 20, 2025 2:40 pm
With a frustrated growl the Neserite swings one last time at the Tracer, the heavy mace crunched into the Tracer’s body with a sickening thud before Rhoderick was turning and moving back to his mount with a glare for the foul creature.
May 20, 2025 2:40 pm
The goblin staggered under the blow of the mace, the weapon catching it across the collarbone. The howl of pain and the sudden lean to its posture was evidence enough - something had broken. The goblin knew now that these interlopers had no intention of letting him leave. With fighting its only option it continued a fluid path from Lan's flank to lunge with the glaive at the retreating priest.
May 20, 2025 2:40 pm
Gasping in pain Rhoderick staggered towards his mount, his eyes flashed white once more as he spat a rebuke at the wiry Tracer, that curse became a thunderous, concussive force that then wracked the wiry Goblin’s body in retribution
May 20, 2025 2:41 pm
The blast of blessed lightening arced up the glaive and sent the goblin sprawling bonelessly backward, smoke rising from its burned-out eyes and mouth. It flopped gracelessly onto the forest floor where Ogre's mighty hoof came down and crushed its skull into pulp with a crack like breaking an egg.
May 20, 2025 2:42 pm
The sound of shattering skull was lost in the actinic flash and boom of Rhoderick's revenge, even as Ogre reared back with dark, wet hooves. Lancaelad gave an exultant laugh, throwing his arm across his eyes to ward off the brightness.

"Struck with the Stormlord's own fury, Brother Rhoderick! Lady of the Seas be proud!" he cried, dropping heavily from the saddle. He grimaced, the fresh bruise under his armour where the glaive had jabbed wrenching pain across his flank, but he ignored it and stooped to peer at the downed spider-rider. Smoke, dust, and the queasy smell of roasted spider and broiled gnoll-fur filled the clearing.

"Such a telling blow deserves a trophy, and this swine is to meagre a fellow to warrant such a fine coif of maille. Help me strip it from him."
May 20, 2025 2:42 pm
"Throw the body over my horse. We can strip him later," the stoic squire offers as he mounts his horse and moves closer to Lancaelad.
May 20, 2025 2:42 pm
As Corson rode over to the knight and the Tracer’s corpse Rhoderick hurried to his steed.

Wincing he mounted and with a quick prayer to the Storm Mother the Neserite priest closed his wound and made ready to leave
May 20, 2025 2:43 pm
Corson nods to Rhoderick. "Use your healing magicks on who you think will need it most. I have some of the berries of the Mother, as well..."
May 20, 2025 2:44 pm
Pausing by Corson the Neserite assessed his wounds, he grasped his shoulder briefly and his eyes flashed white once more.

"We must rely on strength of arms until I rest." He nods towards Tovrunn. "Although the Lady is more than capable in that regard."
May 20, 2025 2:44 pm
Corson tosses a small pouch of berries. "Munch on these while we ride... It'll reinvigorate you."
May 20, 2025 2:45 pm
Lan was about to countermand Corson, but at the last moment and with a glance at the crackling cinders decided there was merit in being away from here with haste. Hopefully the goblins did not have tracking wolves that would enable them to stay on the scent of the rank corpse of one of their own, he thought as he hoisted the limp body up and over the back of the squire's saddle.

He leaped up into Ogre's saddle himself, and cast one more look south towards where the horns had sounded. Then he spurred the warhorse and began pressing to the north, gesturing for Salien and the rest to follow. "In all the maps I have studied, I have never never heard of a gorge along the border of Endier and the Spiderfells. It must give way to level ground eventually. Let us make haste!" He popped a berry into his mouth as he rode, feeling a rush of nourishment in his bruised chest and leaden limbs.
May 20, 2025 2:45 pm
Riding hard with the kindling fire at their back the Roesonians pressed north and west, meeting the edge of the shadowed gorge and following it as fast as the tangled and silk-choked wood would allow. Swiftly they spotted a section of gorge bridged by a fallen tree and surrounded by the thickest knots of cobweb they'd yet seen, as thick as mooring rope. Before they could make a swift crossing however, a cadre of bow-armed goblins dashed from the woods on the far side of the gorge.
May 20, 2025 2:48 pm
Ser Lancaelad's hope that there might be a clear path through the spider-haunted woods to Endier was quickly dashed as they burst through the thick trees and saw the gorge yawning to their flank. And his eyes widened in alarm as he saw the goblins scampering to take up position on the far side – assaulting an uncrossable moat, through barricades that slowed and broke a charge, against archers in fortified positions. It was a cavalryman's nightmare. The Spiderfell might lack castles, but the very land seemed to twist and warp to provide for the awnshegh's defence.

Lan pulled hard on Ogre's reins, bringing the beast to a skidding, snorting, indignant halt. He swallowed, pale from fear as much from the bruises and jabs he had sustained. The only escape was through; back or surrender was a more certain death than broaching the gorge. Trying to muster his bravery in the face of necessity he turned and looked back at his companions. "We must ask no quarter, and grant none, for they will not! Defeat or capture means being bound in silken garottes and dragged before the black lord of this evil land, and he will eat the very hearts from our chests and drink the divine blood from our veins!"

"My lady," he looked at the star-speckled form of his afianced. "Father Rhoderick. If the gods will yet hear any of your prayers, say them now, or trust in your skill at arms. Adalric, linger back until we engage, but do not tarry overlong. Squire Corson, with me!"

He was breathing so hard that he could not find the wind to utter his family battle-cry, but as he spurred Ogre into a gallop he pulled the bottle gifted to them by the Bjordings from his belt, tore the cork out with his teeth and swallowed it in one gulp. The liquid struck like lightning through his veins, lifting some of the exhaustion and pain from him. Maybe this was winnable after all, he thought with a spark of renewed morale. He tossed the empty bottle and lifted his shield as Ogre thundered along the edge of the precipice towards the foot of the web-bridge, gritting his teeth for the rain of arrows that must be winging towards him...
May 20, 2025 2:54 pm
Tossing his reins to Adalric, Rhoderick slid from his thrice accursed mount.

He ran for the Web bridge, it couldn’t be much difference from running the rigging of a ship surely?

With a shout to the Storm Mother he towards the bridge directly across from the Goblins hoping their cowardly natures would lead to the fleeing
May 20, 2025 2:54 pm
Corson steels himself, unslinging his shield, and follows the young brash lord!
May 20, 2025 2:54 pm
As Lan and Rhoderick surged forward the goblins on the far side of the gorge, hungry to serve their master by waylaying these intruders, hurried to cut off their advance. Even beneath Ogre's mighty hooves the webbing scarcely quivered, though a thousand-thousand silken strands tried to hold the furious charger in place. Their crude short bows at the ready, the three at the far side of the web loosed shots at the knight as he advanced onto the steel-cord strong web.

Meanwhile, the moment he first touched the webbing Lan noticed a flicker of motion in the gorge far below. There was little time to investigate further though, as the noble knight was forced to employ his shield.

Further down the opposing lip of the gorge the other two goblins, well beyond the optimal range of their weapons, took a pair of shots at Rhoderick.
May 20, 2025 2:55 pm
Tovrunn had just barely ended her focus on piloting her summoned inferno when their company found themselves before a new challenge. Cursing under her breath, Tovrunn gave chase to her beloved and the other men, lagging behind and insuring that none of their party was left behind.
May 20, 2025 2:55 pm
The webbed bridge, an eerie mockery of man-made architecture shuddered and stretched under the mass of two horses and armoured men, yet held with remarkable strength. Its surface was covered with the filth and leaf-litter of this haunted wood, so as long as one could avoid getting deeply stuck in the sticky core it did not seem to impede progress as much as the hanging veils. Lancaelad drove Ogre forward with a guttural hyah!..
May 20, 2025 2:56 pm
Head down and gritting his teeth and hoping the Goblins continued to show their races usual lack of accuracy Rhoderick sprinted onto the webway across the Gorge.
May 20, 2025 2:56 pm
...and the warhorse's mighty hooves tore through the binding strands with ease. Lan flinched as arrows sizzled through the air and clattered off his upraised shield, and glanced back under his arm to see Corson close on his mount's tail and the rest not far behind. Maybe the man had the mettle to make a knight after all. "Corson! Take the two on the right!" he yelled before Ogre galloped ahead across the silken bridge.

Lan leaned low to avoid the scratching branches of the tree on the far side of the crevass, thanking the Storm God that he didn't have time to consider the awful plunge onto misty rocks below. He drew hard on the reins and leaned out of the saddle, swerving Ogre to the left and sweeping his crow's bill around like a cudgel, aiming to knock the closest goblin bowman into that terrible depth...
May 20, 2025 2:57 pm
Corson nods and turns his attention to the goblins on the right, spurring his horse across the webbed bridge!
May 20, 2025 2:57 pm
Lan charged across the gorge, the gossamer webbing scarcely moving under his thunderous passage as if the bridge were made of iron rather than silk. The strands were easily the thickness of one of his thighs, and there were a great many twined around one another.

Reaching the far side he barrelled into the surprised goblin, clearly positioned to take advantage of a far more cautious crossing, and with a screech from the little beast cast it down into the gorge below. The vile little creature caught in a clutch of webbing perhaps ten feet down, its fall broken by the silken net, but its screeching only redoubled in volume and desperation when it realised its salvation. The thing thrashed about trying to get free, but it only grew more entangled as it fought.

Rhoderick similarly made haste across the webbing, the blessings of the Lady of the Sea's Spray guiding his way to the path of least resistance like water flowing down a mountain. Being afoot he was unable to make the same speed as the knight however, and by the time combat was joined he was scarcely half way across the suspended bridge.

The remaining goblins, faced with the knight's sudden assault, scattered and took their shots at Lan. Their bows, ineffectual from the far side of the gorge, were far more suited to these closer quarters.
May 20, 2025 2:57 pm
Buttressed by the ease with which his companions made their crossing Corson too charged out onto the webbing, but curving his path to the right to avoid Rhoderick he quickly felt loose strands of webbing drift upwards on a stale breeze and caress his face. Before he could react to the peril it was too late - his quiet roan's hooves stuck fast, and in shock the animal reared up and tried to turn. The webs tracing his features became a braided net and swiftly both mount and rider were ensnared.
May 20, 2025 2:58 pm
"Blast!" Corson looks around, lets loose the reins and reaches for his blade to cut his mount free...
May 20, 2025 2:58 pm
Bringing up the rear of their troupe and at the edge of the spider-spun bridge, Tovrunn was in a prime position to observe the battle as it was unfolding. What she saw was deeply, deeply concerning.

"Corson!" Watching the green squire and his mount becoming entangled in the very strands that held them above an abyss, Tovrunn first moved to his side...and then saw Lancaelad struck. Badly. Horrified, she dismounted and attempted to lead her horse afoot over the bridge, conjuring a mote of her druidic powers to enshroud the brave knight in the heavy morning mists of her homeland.
May 20, 2025 2:59 pm
Even as the arrows bit into his flesh a fog as thick and grey as that at the bottom of the gorge rose from the very earth at Lancaelad's feet, enveloping him and falling like a lazy waterfall over the lip of the precipice at his back. It was enough at least that the goblins' arrows would struggle to find the knight again. However it also prevented him from seeing what was happening back the way he'd come.

At the far bottom of the gorge what had moments ago been a mere twitch in the thick tunnels of webbing surged into terrible view. A spider, dull ochre in colour with a broad flat body and long powerful legs emerged in a blink from its den deep in the craggy recesses of the wound in the earth - summoned by the sudden vibrations through its tubular labyrinth of web. Worse still, the thing was colossal - bigger than any living thing that any of the Roesonians had ever seen. Just one of the arachnid's massive fangs was larger than a horse and the whole sinister bulk of its hairy body outstripped most cottages. A row of glittering eyes stared up at the bridge of webbing with a malevolent intelligence, taking the measure of the flies it had caught.

Suspended in webbing part way down the gorge, the goblin Lan had unbalanced felt a ripple through the netting that ensnared him, and his thrashing became all-out panic as he began to screech "Shivhi, Shivhi!" in an ululating scream so terrible it was hard to believe it came from the throat of as living thing.
May 20, 2025 3:00 pm
Lan felt as if he'd charged into a field of thorns. A couple of the barbed arrowheads caught in the links of his maille, but other found their mark – one sprouting from the meat of his thigh, nearly pinning his leg to Ogre's flank, the other whistling by his ear, the fletching tickling his skin. He thought that a miss until he reached up and brushed the back of his gauntlet against the side of his head and it came away bloody – his earlobe now a torn shred.

Pain, nausea and anger gave way to fear. He was in a circle of death. An archery butt for the goblin bowmen, with him as the bullseye. In near panic, his eyes flicked to the web-throttled woods to the west. Endier was that way, somewhere. He could strike out that way, hope to fight through the silken nets and outpace the goblins among the trees. There was no sense in him dying here, so ignominiously! Perhaps he could rally a war party to return and rescue the others... perhaps he would have to compose a good story about how they fell...

Just as Lan was planning to leave his companions behind, a thick silver fog rose from the undergrowth around him. In an impossibly fast moment, he was shrouded in mist as if a veil had been drawn between him and the goblins. That was enough to give him hope – he could strike from the fog and retire to it like the elven knights of legend, concealed from enemy volleys!

His spurs dug into Ogre and the warhorse wheeled around, emerging from the fog bank like the first thunder of a storm. Working on his memory of where the goblins had been crouched, Lan tore through the webbing and swept past the one under the shadow of the great tree on this side of the web-bridge, his crow's bill raking across its chest like a steel claw.

As he turned to plunge back into the fog, his eyes widened as he saw a bristling, monstrous limb the size of an ancient tree branch looming out of the crevasse. "What in the god's names is THAT?!" he cried out, a little more shrilly than he would have liked, before thankfully vanishing into the fog.
May 20, 2025 3:01 pm
For the love of the Storm uttered the Neserite as the Spider appeared, he glanced at Lan and then back at Corson and judging the need to free the squire more urgent than the now obscured knight he spun on his heel and went to help free the mount, or at the least the rider!
May 20, 2025 3:01 pm
Much had changed fro the goblins in a matter of seconds. A mist now clung to the earth and obscured their vision, the mounted warrior amongst them had survived their volley and answered it with lightning strikes and the massive arachnid siege engine of The Spider whose awful power they knew too well had been teased from its maze of webs beneath the earth.

Still, the four remaining skirmishers knew that a far more terrible fate awaited them than anything this scene promised should they break away now, and so in spite of the layer of mist they raised their bows and let fly once more before retreating as far from the spot where the horseman had vanished as possible. They too could strike and run.
May 20, 2025 3:02 pm
Corson tries to pull himself free, but is stymied by the webbing...
May 20, 2025 3:02 pm
"Erik helped us..."

They never should have come here. Tovrunn could see that now. The North had its own problems, and there were forbidden places that were taboo, but as far as Tovrunn knew there were no spiders the size of castles. And her memory stretched a long way.

Should they survive this, her inheritors would have quite an experience to relive.

"Erik guide your muscles Corson," she said, touching him briefly in the shoulder. "We'll have to find some way to draw it away..."

Which, given how she was still glowing with the gift of the stars, was very likely to be her. A daunting thought, but one she could survive if she was careful. But no matter what happened next, staying here in the monsters web was out of the question.
May 20, 2025 3:04 pm
Sweat ran down Lancaelad's spine despite the coolness of the northern
moor-mist Tovrunn had summoned, and he shivered. Somehow, hearing
the clamour and confusion was almost worse than beholding it, for the
imagination ran wild, providing its own illustrations of the goblin warbarks,
the rustle of their movements through the dry undergrowth, the
creak of bowstrings, and above all the vast bristling rasp and eerie nearsilence
of the dragon-sized spider. The young knight took a deep breath.
His flesh stung and oozed where the goblin arrows had pricked him, and he hoped even treacherous scum such as these would not stoop to smearing their arrows with filth or poison... but this was the Spiderfell, and they served the awnshegh lord of venoms. He feared another shot might be his last, but somehow scraped the dregs of courage from the bottom of his heart and set his spurs into Ogre's rippling flanks.

He burst from the fog in a silver plume, crouching low to keep the webs out of his face. A cold dart of despair pierced his chest as he saw the goblins had pulled away – too far for him to strike and retire as he had done. He would have to risk their wrath, but at least the fog would be behind him to keep the ones to the south from drawing an aim on him. A quick glance to the side showed that the others were struggling across the sticky, treacherous bridge. All he could hope to do was clear this side of the ravine for them.

"Yaaah!" he snarled, his hand locked tight around the haft of his crow's bill, but arm shaking from the knowledge the immense thing they called Shivhi was lurking behind. Despite his jangling nerves the sweep of the steel point was good, catching the squealing goblin under the chin in a spray of dark blood, lifting it bodily into the air by its jaw and sending it crashing dead to the forest flaw.

Lan drew hard on Ogre's reins and spun to face the second archer, raising his shield between them. "Come, then," he panted. "Die for your master!"
May 20, 2025 3:04 pm
Sweating, glancing over his shoulder and swearing at the web, at Corson, at the Spider and at everyone in general Rhoderick frantically tried to help Corson free…
May 20, 2025 3:05 pm
Shaking his awareness of the colossal arachnid proved harder than Lan imagined. Making lethal use of his greater mobility and the cover provided by his betrothed, the knight was proving more than capable of dominating the skirmish he'd rode headlong into despite his companions being waylaid in their crossing, but he was frustratingly aware of the dozens of ropelike clots of webbing he had to pass as he rode this way and that.

About half way through his most recent circuit he was hacking and pressing past a decent knot of the stuff when he felt... something. It was almost as if the sagging mass of rotting leaves and debris tensed at his touch. Nothing seemed to happen, so he continued his rampage.

At about the same time on the bridge of web that spanned the gorge and its eerily still resident Corson and Rhoderick were struggling to free the squire of the green and his mount (with little success) when both men were immediately aware of a flash of movement. Looking down both swore the massive spider had shifted position. Worse still, the goblin that Lan had cast down into the gorge was... gone.
May 20, 2025 3:06 pm
Keeping a wary eye on the gorge, the pair of goblins to the south moved up to take advantage of the fog now that the knight had vacated it, each loosing an arrow in his direction as they did. The last goblin to the north meanwhile seemed to be making for the log bridge where perhaps the mounted warrior would have less of an advantage, but seeing that Lan was bloodied at least it too paused to loose an arrow.

One arrow thudded into his chest, and Lancaelad felt the arrow puncture his battered armour and bite deep into flesh. He was just reeling with the blow when another tremendously lucky shot caught him just beneath the shoulder blade and the last thing he was cognisant of was toppling slowly from Ogre's back.
May 20, 2025 3:06 pm
"Curse you, man! Salien is the mission! I am expendable" the Green squire swears as he pulls and swipes at the webbing!
May 20, 2025 3:07 pm
Tovrunn had just made it off the webs when she heard Lan's shout of warning. That fool! A charge?! Here??! He was daft! A fool! A child playing at-

Tovrunn's breath caught in her throat. She had turned just in time to see the arrow fly true. Just in time to watch her beloved slump in Ogre's saddle, and fall.

"LAN!"

Without any conscious effort she plucked a mote of starlight out of nowhere. Shifted it into a spear. He was daft. And a fool. A child playing at hero. But he was also kind, and gentle. A man of his word. And awnsheghlien and their vile servants be damned.

He was HERS.
May 20, 2025 3:07 pm
Adalric had ridden hard across the bridge of webbing between Corson and Lancaelad, only to turn at the far side and see his protector tangled far behind, and then all had been shrouded in unnatural mist. He'd made the best of Erik's blessed intervention for a few moments, but now that the fog lowered he could see Lan's stand against the entire party of goblins had been a vain one.

Putting his heels to his own steed, and with Rhoderick's in tow he galloped to the fallen knight's side, dropping from the saddle into a slide to try to revive the man.
May 20, 2025 3:09 pm
A skirmish in a mordant wood -
A canter down a darkened pass -
Two thousand gold of chivalry
Drops to a five-copper shaft!


The creaking of trees, the glutinous groaning of webs under weight, the scuttling of goblins in the undergrowth and cries of his companions – all faded into a single roaring sound. A waterfall with a heartbeat. Lan reached up and touched the strange lever that had grown from his sternum, through the broken links of maille, frowning at the unfamiliar pain as he pulled it too and fro, making the roaring increase in furor. This lever seemed to have the power to move the entire world, however, because when he yanked at it the trees all at once pivoted to the side, growing from left to right in his vision. The sky seemed, strangely, to be on his right flank now, his shield somehow pinned against the sour dirt of the Spiderfell, which was at his side instead of under his horse's hooves.

There was a woman's voice calling a name he should know, inaudible over the thunder leaking from his veins. Then a man dropping from steed to his side, a man who looked somehow familiar, like he had seen his profile on a coin, or hewn from marble. Lan mouthed something weakly, grasping for a truth as the man's hands moved over the arrow jutting from his ribs.

"My... my..."
Ogre tossed his mane as the Boy toppled from his back. Ogre did not care for the Boy. He was slack with the reins, indecisive with the spurs, loud, ungenerous with apples and brush. Unlike the Man, who Ogre had ridden with on many sorties and in to many battles, whose hand he trusted and weight he knew.

But Ogre cared even less for goblins. They smelled of wolves and cruelty. Ogre scraped his hooves on the earth, whinnied a challenge, and burst into motion at the goblin that had pricked the Boy, a living battering ram of iron-shod muscle...
May 20, 2025 3:10 pm
Gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the Spider the size of a galleon Rhodri put his head down and sprinted for Lan’s fallen body.

Repeating a litany to the Mother of Storms under his breadth, he seemed to fly over the strands as if he was running the ropes on the ship he grew up on.

He slides down next to Lan’s body, placing his hands on the knights wounds and prepares to cast Spare the Dying on Lan.
May 20, 2025 3:10 pm
Rhod's prayer was fervent, and with a hiss that sounded like both the spray of the sea against a cliffside and a sigh he saw Lancaelad's knotted brow smooth and his pallor warm ever so slightly. The knight remained fallen, but now in the semblance of sleep and not that of a man grappling the shadow.

He only had time to offer a reassuring nod to Adalric before a curtain of pearlescent threads floated gracefully down into view, and then as he realised what was happening the eerily beautiful net tightened and with near instant acceleration he was yanked backwards and found himself swaddled and motionless on the gorge's lip beneath the horse-sized mandibles of the towering Shivhi. Rhoderick could smell the caustic venom that hung in pendulous droplets the size of kegs from the creature's fangs.
May 20, 2025 3:11 pm
Fearful of the emerging spider, and with few enemies with whom to concern themselves, the pair of goblins to the south made a sprint northwards to the cover of the dead tree that anchored one side of the web bridge. Perhaps they planned to advance on Lancaelad, or perhaps they meant to position themselves at the end of the fallen tree that formed the other crossing.

The remaining goblin to the north, narrowly surviving the assault of both Tovrunn's spellcraft and the vitriol of an unrestrained Ogre, made its way out to part way across the log and fired its bow at the Rjurik maid, but defending against Ogre had damaged the bow and the arrow flew well short and simply dropped down into the mass of web below. Cursing in its own black tongue, the creature yanked the bowstring taut again.
May 20, 2025 3:11 pm
Cursing in a Giantish/Sidhelein combination, Corson spurs his horse, freshly freed, and crosses the web bridge! Initially, he reaches for his javelins, but thinks better of it and instead calls upon the magic of the Green...
May 20, 2025 3:11 pm
Riding hard back the way he'd come, Corson yanked the goblin from its perch on the log as it was correcting its bow, and the wicked creature dropped like a stone into the mass of webbing below, clearing the other crossing. But even as he did the towering spider that had wrapped Rhoderick like a packaged meal struck down with its massive fangs.
May 20, 2025 3:12 pm
When her javelin of light missed, Tovrunn let loose a very unladylike shout of anger and humiliation; to let the goblin that struck her husband-to-be like that escape justice was beyond unacceptable. Even more frustratingly, Corson robbed her of her vengeance; she would have to console herself with the knowledge that the towering behemoth of a spider would finish the job.

Hopping onto the branches that made for the sturdiest footholds, Tovrunn began to cross the makeshift bridge. Blessing Fegrð for her dainty and sure footfalls, she managed to make it to the halfway point when she pulled up short. Quickly glancing between the fallen Lancaelad and the restrained and imperiled Rhoderick, her heart quivered for a moment as she settled on a course of action.

Rhoderick was in danger, mortal danger. And though she was bound to him, Lancaelad was not. Not yet anyway. The goblins were pressing close, but he also had Ogre to defend him. It would not be enough, but he was not within the maw of that nightmare giving chittering flesh.

Whispering words of healing to the battered faithful of Nesirie, Tovrunn snapped a mote of fire to life and flung it at the nearest of the beastly gremlins.
May 20, 2025 3:13 pm
With a scream bubbling in his throat after the Spiders fangs had sunk into the meat of his shoulder Rhoderick attempted to slip free from the encompassing web.

The Priest hopped from the web to the nearby log and sprinted for his mount where Adalric held it, swerving around the Goblins and hoarsely, frantically panting "let’s go, let’s go, get him up and let’s go" he scrambled back into his saddle
May 20, 2025 3:14 pm
The look of pained confusion on Lan's face eased, and a glister of salt water appeared on his bloodless skin – not sweat, but sea-spray. If he was to pass into the Shadow now, it would not be struggling against the sucking wounding in his chest for breath, fighting not to drown in his blood, but with Nesirie's own peace. On his bed of dried leaves he could almost have looked asleep, if not for the tangle of his own limbs and Adalric's urgent attempts to stir him with every trick in the Suirienese steader's almanac.
Ogre snorted as the goblin was yanked away from him into the chasm by a thorny lash, feeling as thwarted in his vengeance as the woman, the Speaker for the Father of Herds. Turning his rolling gaze about for other victims to stamp into the earth he beheld the monstrous, hillock-sized awfulness of Shivhi rising from the pit to seize the man who smelled of the sea and holy oils.

War-trained or not, Ogre was not about to approach that thing; every instinct in his body shuddered and screamed against it. Instead he trotted about the fallen Boy and the man who had given him dried apricots once, whinnying and hoofing divots in the ground to make the urgency of the situation clear to them. Ogre nearly bowled the kneeling man over, brushing him with his powerful flank, tossing his mane and flashing his teeth against the bit.
May 20, 2025 3:14 pm
Even as Shivhi loomed closer Salien was rummaging desperately through his saddle bags, a thin sheen of cold sweat stinging his eyes. At last he found it - the tiny pinkish vial with the almost imperceptible radiance that Lan had thrust into his hands as they entered this cursed wood.

Ripping out the stopper with his teeth Adalric darted back to the fallen knight's side and, pinching the man's nose to tilt back his head he forced the lip of the vial to the back of Lancaelad's throat and poured.
May 20, 2025 3:15 pm
The elixir seemed to evaporate into Lancaelad's throat as soon as it was poured – fortunately, for it stopped him choking and coughing as he suddenly sucked in a deep breath and lunged up at the waist. His wounds were already clotting, scarring over, pushing the arrowheads out of his flesh, and though everything hurt with a bone-deep beating the likes of which he had never felt... he was alive!

Lan's look up at Adalric with gratitude and surprise became an expression of alarm and dread as he saw the unspeakable, ancient titan amongst spiders rearing up behind the older man. It was death upon eight legs, each as large as a cathedral's buttresses. There was no chance, no hope, no glory in battle with it. Lan grabbed Ogre's harness as the warhorse tramped past, and with an effort as great as any he had ever made hauled himself upright with the sheer strength of his arms, then into the saddle.

Mounted, he felt Ogre's boiling blood beneath him, eager to fight. Lan reached down and did his best to lift Adalric into the saddle of his own horse. "We cannot fight that thing!" he wheezed, his face white, eyes bulging and staring in terror. "Ride – ride for Endier!" Hoping that his sworn charge would follow, he wrestled with Ogre's reigns, forcing the steed's head to the west as he reckoned it, and spurred hard enough to draw blood.

Yielding to pragmatism – to cowardice, truth be told, and excessive love of his own life – Ser Lancaelad galloped away from the fight.
May 20, 2025 3:16 pm
Within seconds one of the armoured humans they'd believed fallen leapt to his feet, then into the saddle and disappeared at a gallop into the wood. With one of their quarry lost and half their number fallen the surviving goblins might, in normal circumstances, have fled. However with the humans breaking west and Shivhi watching from the lip of the gorge these were no normal circumstances. Horns were already sounding from the eastern woods, and if they could capture even a few of the intruders they'd be richly rewarded.

The female perched perilously on the log would be easiest to take, and the pair dashed to the western end of the rotting bridge and once more loosed their bows.
May 20, 2025 3:16 pm
Corson, looking back at the giant arachnid, spurs his horse toward the goblins while drawing his sword and bringing it down on one of the goblins' head!
May 20, 2025 3:18 pm
Corson thundered out across the web and struck a staggering blow on one of the goblins that brought the cruel creature to its knees for a moment, its scalp split to the gory bone beneath. As he did it seemed at first that the countless strands of web that still clung to his helm and armour were beginning to shift and ripple with his charge. Too late he realised that the strands of webbing were the same net that had only seconds ago captured his companion, and with a sudden jerk the world spun and Corson found himself in the grasp of the impossibly large arachnid.

https://i.imgur.com/qAJVUTu.jpeg
May 20, 2025 3:19 pm
Continuing her push across the fallen log, Tovrunn could do little more than watch as Corson was ensnared by the titanic arachnids webs, stringing him up and pulling him to the edge of the ravine where deadly mandibles tipped with poisonous fangs waited for him. Unwilling to let this be the end of the Green Knights, she whispered a small prayer begging his forgiveness as she snapped another mote of flame to life.

Making it to solid ground at last, Tovrunn focused on the restrained and vulnerable Corson, as vulnerable to her as he was to Shivhi. Letting loose her fire, she plucked another of the arrows about her wrists and aimed at the remaining goblin. Drawing it as if it were an arrow upon an invisible bowstring, she loosed it with a vengeance.
May 20, 2025 3:20 pm
A litany of curses flowing from him in a cracking voice Rhoderick spurred his mount around the webbing to place the goblins between himself and the horror that has bitten him.

He swung his heavy mace in an attempt to knock the last goblin into the web behind it to clear the route for Tovrunn to escape.

A wave of dizziness hit him as he swung wide. "Let’s go Milady" he shouted at Tovrunn and spurred his horse after Lan.
May 20, 2025 3:21 pm
Lancaelad's heartbeat drummed against the thin clots that covered his fresh arrow-wounds, threatening to burst them open and leak out that lifeblood which had been replaced by healing elixir. Thin branches, dry and jagged as witch talons lashed at his face as Ogre surged and crashed through the forest beneath him. The warhorse snorted in contempt, indignant at having been drawn away from the fray, while behind them Salien's horse, dragged along by the reins in Lan's hand, whinnied in relief as the monsterous spider fell away behind them.

The rider panted, nearly sobbing. He had dropped one of his lances, left his crow's bill in the skirmish. He was nearly unarmed, and certainly nearly unmanned by his cowardice. And now he was nearly lost in the mocking tangle of the Spider's domain, wicked knots of thorned branches and broken ground in every direction. All he could hope was to keep travelling in the same direction, that he and Salien were close enough to the border that escape was possible before the denizens of the Fell caught up with them, or they blundered into some waiting web or trapdoor.
May 20, 2025 3:21 pm
Now horrifically wounded, and with its fellow scythed through by a scintillating projectile, the final goblin's nerve finally broke. Even the wrath of the Spider was preferable to death here and now.

Ducking Rhoderick's swing (a lethal blow that would surely have smashed its skull to pulp) the archer took up a determined but pained lope and vanished into the undergrowth back the way it had come. The way from which even now the steady beat of drums was drawing closer.
May 20, 2025 3:21 pm
Corson, not missing a step, grimacing in pain hears his heartbeat pounding in his ears, makes a hasty retreat from the giant arachnid as it reels from Tovrunn's flames
May 20, 2025 3:22 pm
With her companions safely retreating, Tovrunn was alone with the massive beast lurking at the edge of the gorge. It was hard work, bringing her active, rational mind to bear given the past number of minutes of vicious action, but she had done so before for many lifetimes. This monstrosity responded only when they crossed the webbing that it had left, a snare waiting for prey to enter. But if that was true...

Rifling through her saddlebags, Tovrunn held still for just a moment, her heart pounding in her ears and everything in her body screaming at her to run as fast as her horses legs could take her. Finding a bottle of good oil, Tovrunn pitched it into the webbing, and then snapped another mote of flame to life. Aiming at her bottle, she loosed her flame...and then fled.
May 20, 2025 3:25 pm
With an almighty WHOOSH the western end of the funnel of webbing burst into a fireball, the flames dying almost as swiftly as they rose but leaving the silken bridge drifting freely into the shallow canyon the the empty sleeve of a fine shirt. With an ear-splitting screech Shivhi scuttled left and back, dropping out of view to evade the explosion of flame that singed the sensitive hairs on her legs, and Tovrunn chose that moment to spur her mount westward after her companions.

As she caught up with Corson, fleeing on foot with tree limbs whipping across his face as he did, Tovrunn spared a glance back and saw the huge legs once more mount the lip of the gorg... no... the burrow, followed by the monstrous head. And on the far side of the gap she could see dozens of small, ragged figures sprinting toward the fallen log. Even as she paused to drag Corson into the saddle behind her the whizz of arrows and hum of bowstrings filled the air.

As she put her heels to her mount's sides and renewed her retreat flashes came unbidden from Ira. All the familiar could see was a cocoon of webbing, inexorably enshrouding him at the leisure of some unseen captor. Of course an owl stood no chance in these woods - it was a miracle that no monstrous arachnid had snagged him before now. Still, releasing the magic that summoned him would be enough to free the owl from his prison.

Ahead Lancaelad rode hard with Adalric clinging to his back and the foreigner's horse in tow and the corpse of the goblin tracer sandwiched grotesquely between them. Ogre was a brick of muscle and not used to riding hard, so the bulky destrier's muscled flanks were heaving at the sprint. When Lan heard hooves behind him he thought for a moment that maybe some as yet undiscovered breed of shod riding spider was at his back, but as Rhoderick gained ground on and then overtook Ogre on a parallel path through the trees he felt a tremendous relief that at least one other of their party had escaped the sojourn Lan himself had counselled with his life. For more than half their small party to ride out of the Spiderfell alive? Why that was the stuff of heroic ballad! A few of the details would need to be embellished of course, but that was normal.

Speaking of the wild fancies of bards, Lancaelad recalled the story of Richard Endier. They said that Endier's first Count and founder made some cryptic bargain with The Spider generations ago that guaranteed his borders. Of course the Endiers had died out a generation or more ago, but it was true that Endier did not suffer the predations of its awnsheigh neighbour in the same way as Roesone... Perhaps they had just to cross the border to find blessed salvation. And not a moment too soon - a cacophony of horns and drums seemed to be drawing closer from the north, the south, and the east, but even as they did the trees were thinning.

Pivoting in the saddle, Corson raised his shield just in time to catch an arrow bound for Tovrunn's shoulder. He could see low, lethally fast shapes loping fast through the undergrowth on both sides. Goblins had a fondness for tamed wolves as mounts, and were more than capable of shooting from the saddle on their animals. Worse still, the wolves were far better suited to the tangled forest than horses. In a contest of pure speed there was no doubt they would lose unless they got out of the woods.

Not knowing how far the others had fallen behind, all Rhoderick could be certain of was that he was now at the vanguard of their small party's flight. The sounds of pursuit in the far distance were apparent, but the woods were thinning. The undergrowth giving way gradually to leaf-littered open ground, and through the trees ahead he caught glimpses of light.

Cracking the reins, his wide-eyed mount needed little encouragement to increase its pace and after only a few more moments the vision gifted him by elven ancestors was dazzled as he broke out of the treeline and onto a long sweep of yellow grassland. The touch of the sun was once more warm on his skin, not faintly acidic as it had been in the awnsheigh's wood and to the south the dark, blocky silhouette of the Falcon's Roost rose like a sentinel from the rippling prairie.

Pausing for a moment, he wheeled his mount to see first Tovrunn's mount with Corson at the back, his shield peppered with a half dozen black-quarrelled arrows, and then Ogre bearing Lan and Adalric and dragging another shrieking beast along by the reigns, break from the wood and gallop into the light.

Perhaps a horselength or two behind Lan a trio of wolfriders scrambled to a halt, and backed away towards the trees, followed by a couple more, where wolf and rider stood in the shadow of the web-draped canopies and glared. Beyond them Rhod could see a disturbance in the canopies. Mighty trees, likely centuries old bent and leaned away from what must surely be the monstrous Shivhi forging a path through the wood.

Risking no more, Rhoderick waited until the first of his companions caught up then he put his heels once more to his horse's flank and rode for Halfday, thanking the Mother of Rain once more for watching over her humble servant.
May 20, 2025 3:28 pm
Ogre's flanks were lathered, and Lancaelad was breathing little softer and even more irregularly when they finally came to a halt in the fields of Endier. Silken streamers covered the warhorse and both riders like shreds of a funerary shroud, shallow red scratches from the thorns and branches, and now burrs clung to hide and cloak and pale grass seed stuck to sweating flesh.

Whimpering a gratitude to Cuiraécen for guiding him to the eye of the storm, a momentary respite from the chaos and carnage and unreasonably large spiders, Lan eased on the reins and curled forward. He almost lay on the horse's broad neck as he felt his heart beating on the cage of his ribs. Eyes screwed shut against the brightness of the sun now that they were out from the shadow of the Fell, tears mixed with the blood and sweat on his cheeks, and he felt his stomach heave with the bile of cowardice.

You left them. I had no choice!

Left them to die. I swore an oath to see Adalric Salien safe to his
destination!

Spent their lives like cheap coin to save your skin. I... I had... no...

Salien was shaking his shoulder, saying something. Red-eyed, Lan looked around, his legs trembling as he prepared to spur Ogre onwards if the goblins were pursing into open country... but stunned relief roared up like a wave when he saw the changeling priest, blood and battered, somehow ahead of them bringing his own steed around. Salien gestured behind, and Lan turned to see Tovrunn and Corson atop one mount, the squire's shield on his back bristling with goblin arrows.

"They made it..." he muttered hoarsely. The release of grief and guilt made him dizzy – and shame and joy rushed in to fill the void. Lan slipped from the saddle, tossing the armoured goblin's body to the dirt and nearly dropping to his knees as he injured weight of his body hit him. But he managed to stagger towards the approaching riders, hailing them with a breathless cry. "You made it!"

He caught Tovrunn's horse by the bridle, and gave the mounted Corson a manful slap on the thigh (probably earning a wince from the likewise wounded man) and reached up to grasp the Rjurik lady by the waist. He lifted her from the saddle and lowered her to the ground – a bit roughly, as his strength nearly failed and the wound in his chest from the near-fatal arrow almost opened again – and embraced her.

"I knew with me forging a way in the vanguard, you would escape the clutches of that spider-beast!" he panted, not entirely convincingly.
May 20, 2025 3:29 pm
Corson looks ready to fall off Tovrunn's horse when Lan lifts her from the saddle, Thank you, Lancaelad. You protected Salien when I could not.

Smiling wanly, the squire sways in the saddle. "Do you think we could find somewhere safe enough to catch our breath? Or would it be wiser to bolt for our destination? How much farther is it?"
May 20, 2025 3:29 pm
Panting, the poison still coursing in his system Rhoderick looks to his companions. "A rest would be good, and next time a ship would be better."
May 21, 2025 3:17 am
Trovunn's heartbeat was still thundering in her ears when Lancaelad pulled Fegrð to a halt, her breath still heaving and ragged with exertion and adrenaline. She could barely do more than nod in answer to Lan's question, if indeed it was a question at all. Pulled from the saddle by strong arms, Tovrunn's already pale face blanched even further as she caught sight of the number of arrows protruding from Corson's shield. She hadn't thought any of the arrows hit...

And then Lan embraced her.

She couldn't remember if he had done that before. It was...comforting...

Returning her beloved's embrace with one of her own, hesitant at first but then depending on intensity, Tovrunn fell into his arms in a way she knew she had never done before. "Oh Lan, you fool," she whispered in his ear tenderly, her voice breaking. "You brave, gorgeous, noblehearted reckless fool. I thought I'd lost you..."

Realizing that there was a somewhat important discussion threatening to occur, Tovrunn let go and tried to compose herself. Tears had formed and threatened to run rampant over her cheeks, the rebellious things. Wiping them away with her sleeve, she grimaced as the dirt and webs stung and bit. "You did the right thing," she said with a nod, blinking away her tears and pain, attempting to don her impassive druid's mask once more. "Had you stayed longer, you would not have left. Getting Aldaric out of the Spiderfell, seeing our mission through, it was the right call. And we were not all that far behind," she added with a small little smile.

"I think..." Glancing over her shoulder at the still visible treetops of the Spiderfell, which slowly and unnaturally bent as though some giant force was pushing them aside, Tovrunn addressed the group. "I think that a moments respite is called for. But lets move a little further inland first. Just in case."
May 21, 2025 3:20 am
Removed from the source of fear, Lan's cowardice soon began to fade in the face of his overwhelming self-regard – especially when bolstered by the warmth of Tovrunn's affection. He leaned into the embrace, taking more than comfort from the strength and softness of her arms around him. Somehow, she still held a glimmer of the scent of pine and fresh snow, under the stench of blood, horse- and human-sweat and the strange stale dry stink of spider webs and husks the all carried.

He cleared his throat as she pulled away, and tried to rally the group. "The path was treacherous, my friends, but we made it. We made it! Not even all the Spider's tangling strands and filthy minions could bar our way. We can reach Halfday before dusk, but Lady Tovrunn is right. We should take a moment to rest our mounts and bind our wounds, lest they fester with venom. But not within eye- or bow-shot of the trees, I think."

"Speaking of filthy minions..." Lan grimaced down at the goblin's corpse. "Corson, help me strip this thing. This steel it wears is too fine to fairly belong to a goblin. The body can lay here in this noman's land; let them come for it in the night if they care for their dead."

Once the enemy had been skinned of its mail hauberk and the horses given a moment to cease their frenzied breathing, they redistributed riders and weight and prepared to set off in search of a manor, farmstead, camp or glade where they could rest briefly before continuing on, at last, to the village in the center of Endier that was their destination.

As they rode, Lan detatched from the head of the party and drew the restive Ogre alongside Rhoderick's mount. He glanced sideways from his slightly higher saddle, and held his tongue for a moment before saying: "When I fell, struck down by the goblin arrows, I felt the shadow of death upon me. I knew, of course, that such lowly foes could not make an end of me, yet the peril was true. Then I felt... it was like a summer tide lifting me, warm and salt against the cold dead stagnancy of the Shadow World. You preserved my life in dire need. When the great deeds of this day are sung, your name will resound with thunderous glory nearly as loudly as mine." He reached over, offering Rhodri a firm warrior's handshake, gripping each other's wrists.

Settling back, Lan's gaze wandered to the ear-points emerging from Rhoderick's dark hair and asked: "I was always taught that elves scorned the gods of men. How is it you came to worship the Lady of the Seas?"
May 21, 2025 3:21 am
Corson quietly assists Lancaelad, before sheepishly speaking. "I seem to have lost my horse..."
May 21, 2025 3:23 am
"Relationships between humans and the fair folk," the Priest’s mouth twisted sardonically at the description "are not even. A fleeting moment on time for the elf can be dedicated years for their paramour. When my sire found out the inevitable consequence of their coupling he left. My mother gave me to the Neserite abbey on the cliffs and then gave herself to the sea from those same cliffs."

He shrugged imperceptibly. "The Storm Mother is the only Mother I have known, and all I need."

Giving himself a shake his grin and jovial air returned and he nodded between Lan and his bethrothed. "Mayhap I could be officiating a ceremony when our errand is done."
May 21, 2025 3:25 am
Ser Lancaelad listened intently as Rhoderick spoke of the difficulties of affairs of the heart between immortal sidhe and fleeting menfolk. His thoughts roamed back to the far, fair Erebannien, a secret assignation with and elf-maid on the night he should have been standing vigil over his arms and armour to earn his knight's accolade, and a declaration of love made in haste and passion. A shadow of anxiety passed over his features and heart. Was it doomed from the start, then? "A grim story. No wonder it lead you to the goddess of all tears," he said, not unsympathetically.

He glanced ahead at Tovrunn when the priest made his jest, feeling tossed on the horns of a dilemma. "Ah hah. Ha ha. Very droll," he said weakly. "I'm sure that... blessed... day will not come for many yea... for some time yet." His tone was that of a rabbit considering the gleaming jaws of a snare.
May 21, 2025 3:25 am
Salien dismounted stiffly, a stricken look carved onto his face. In his hand the two lengths of rotted metal from the Elvenmeres were clutched so tight that his joints were white and veins stood out against the tanned skin. Waiting respectfully for Rhoderick to finish he approached Lan and held out the pitted lump. "You swore an oath to me, and today you kept it. Thank you good knight. I don't know what this is, but it is all I have in this land. Take it."
May 21, 2025 3:27 am
No sooner had he gripped the reins to make a quick leave from Rhodri than Adalric approached, bearing... two lumps of bog-iron. Lan gazed down from Ogre's saddle, his expression shifting from heated and furtive to icy disdain. The sheer blood impertinence of the yeoman! If not for his oath – and some deeper, stronger impulse – he would have reached down and boxed Salien's ears. Offering rusty debris as a prize to a knight of Roesone!

Lan's head snapped away, stiff necked. "Mount up! Squire Corson, share your saddle with him." He didn't deign to look or reply to Salien. "A few more miles will carry us safely from the eaves of the Spiderfell, and a few more to the village of Halfday and we will be done with this."
May 21, 2025 3:27 am
Corson places his hand on Salien's shoulder. "Do not mind the young knight. Sometimes they do not grok the ways of the common folk. Keep your prize. Perhaps Lancaelad will be happy with you giving him his due... Let us move, we are so close to refuge."

The squire swings up into the saddle and offers his hand down to pull the man upon their mount.
May 21, 2025 3:27 am
Salien gave Lan's back a thoughtful look and nodded, then tucking his odd prize back into his belt he took Corson's hand and swung up behind the squire wordlessly.
May 21, 2025 3:28 am
Feeling more rested even after so brief a respite, the Roesonians found a dusty wagon trail relatively swiftly, and as swiftly it joined Endier's paved highroad. A realm devoted to commerce, the roads were uncannily immaculate and straight as if the topography of the land itself had been waiting for them, and even after the noon meal the southern highroad bustled with wagons and riders.

Bloody and draped with sticky spiderwebs, their armour pierced and battered and their horses exhausted and panicky they drew more than a few glances as they joined the column of traffic.
May 21, 2025 3:29 am
It wasn't clear if, in his haste and frustration, Lancaelad had spurred Ogre faster, or it Tovrunn had reigned her horse in, but shortly after his rejection Lancaelad and Tovrunn found themselves riding side by side. And when he next glanced her direction, he was met by an icy glare. Not at all the worried countenance that she had when last they looked upon each other.

"'Years,' hmm?" She repeated icily, finishing the word that he was too afraid to. Her eyes narrowed, and then she looked forward and continued with perfect posture. "It is foolish indeed to turn down a gift of unproven worth, especially one that may pre-date the battle of Deismaar. I'd think you of all people would know that the storybooks are full of proud princes being humbled by the refusal of such gifts in favor of chasing mirages."

Spurring Fegrð forward, she looked only to their destination for the remainder of their ride, and said not a word.
May 21, 2025 3:29 am
Corson, his face stoic, listens to Tovrunn's words. He says nothing, but settles in the sway of the horse's pace...
May 21, 2025 3:30 am
Twisting the leather strap on his shield as he rode the Priest smiled inwardly. The Knight was in more trouble right now than they had been with the Gecko. He kept his face straight and wordlessly hummed a hymn to the Mother of Storms.
May 21, 2025 3:32 am
Though town in name, Halfday might well have been considered a city in less populous lands. To the northwest the vague shape of the massive stone sculpture cut from a mountainside known only as The Monument could be seen beyond the gaily coloured tile rooftops (mainly blues and greens) and cracking banners.

The Lorn Wastrel Tradehouse was one of a handful of walled compounds sitting within a mile of the town. It was a place where caravan guards could be hired, where large convoys could stop for the night without completely disrupting the town, where hard-earned coin could be spent of debauchery or jubilation or in commiseration at the close of a mercantile venture. There were several large buildings within the modest fortifications including two full stables with space for coaches, private lodgings for hire complete with kitchen and servants, a smithy and wagonwright for repairs, a small barracks for the cadre of private guardsmen, and an enormous common hall with a boisterous taproom and a number of private and communal lodgings above.

https://i.imgur.com/dUjKH8F.jpeg

The guard at the gate looked them over closely, battered and filthy as they were, but clearly saw no reason to waylay so small a party no matter how battleworn. It was clear he'd taken note though, and after they'd rode toward the stables he waved over a fellow and the pair had a brief conversation while glancing back at the Roesonians and gesturing at them. Endier didn't have a bandit problem - not on the highroads - so their state was undoubtedly suspicious.

Turning their horses over to the ostler (a young woman with a round face, a tight bun on her head and worn kidskin gloves) they made their way to the common room. Entering into the cavernous timber hall, it took their eyes a moment to adjust from the afternoon sun outside. There were dozens of tables crammed in, making a space that rivalled Blacktower's feasting hall in scale feel cramped, but few folk were present at so early an hour. Amongst the scent of fresh straw and roasting meat, perhaps seven patrons sat in various spots, most looking like merchants awaiting some meeting or else drowing their sorrows at a venture gone bad, with three servers idly wiping at tables or building the fire in preparation for evening (the youngest girl laying out milk for a handful of plump orange cats), a minstrel tuning a lute by the hearth, and a barman in conversation with a red-cheeked patron.
May 21, 2025 3:32 am
Corson scans the room as he waits for Lancaelad to take the lead, as would be his way...
May 21, 2025 3:34 am
With ample cause for suspicion - even paranoia - since his arrival in his homeland it was almost second nature for Corson to take in any stranger as a potential foe. Their general state after the battle in the Spiderfell had certainly drawn more attention than he'd've liked, but haste had won out over caution in this last leg of their journey.

Late afternoon wasn't a busy time in the taproom, so his survey was simpler than it might have been and the squire was able to discount a number of faces as friend or foe: The musician and two of the young servers (barely teenagers he judged) seemed to be too involved in their tasks to spare his party a glance and five of the petty merchants, one blind drunk, two playing at cards, one lost in a ledger and the last monopolising the barman's time all spared them little more than a glance and perhaps a frown at their bloody attire - a reaction Corson deemed too natural for subterfuge.

That left four he couldn't so swiftly discount. The barman - a tall and burly sort with a full beard and gay yellow shirtsleeves who looked to be of mixed ancestry kept his eye on them as they entered. Of course that might well be explained by both his job and his blatant desire to escape the conversation that had him pinned, but it might also be more.

One of the serving lads, a gawky and lean-built youth who looked older than the other two with boxy-cut dark hair and piercingly grey eyes, hustled out of the room the moment he saw them. He didn't seem overly concerned or surprised so the timing may have been coincidental though as he did make for the kitchen.

A quite stunning woman in gentile but travel-ready garb, her hands in long olive green gloves and her tumble of auburn hair swept tastefully over one shoulder, raised a cup of wine to them as they entered with an effortlessly sultry smile before returning her attention to a stack of papers that sat on the table before her.

Lastly a hollow-cheeked mercenary who had the bearing of a seasoned caravan guard and the scars to match seemed to be pointedly ignoring them. He wore a nasty looking axe at his belt with dark notches carved up its length, and his posture seemed to offer the weapon to the room in general.

There must be countless others within the walls of the tradehouse of course, but something about these four troubled Corson. One at least, he felt certain, knew their business.
May 21, 2025 3:38 am
It was for the best that everyone avoided him for the last leg of the journey, as Lan would have made sullen and ill-tempered company. He felt aggrieved at his treatment by Tovrunn, what was surely a calculated insult by Adalric, Rhodri's jibe and all the rest. At least this helped him bury his shame over his flight from the Spider's minions, which was already being reinterpreted as a mythic retreat from an implacable foe.

His mood lightened at last when that came within sight of Half-Day, with the banner of Endier – a red spider on a gold star (or web) on a field of black. He held up a bloodstained gauntlet to bring the column to a slow walk, and glanced back. "Through many trials and tribulations, we have reached our goal. Beware, though, for Endier is a kingdom of merchants, where all things are for sale. The Prince of Rabbits and his henchmen may hunt us still. Remember the pass-phrase Biersen had us learn: 'the price of barley out of Ghoere is going to be high this season'. They will answer 'then Sarimie smiles, I favour Tuor barley for my beer in any case.'"

Lan pressed a gold piece into the ostler's palm, instructing her to give Ogre only the finest treatment the caravan-town had to offer. He paused, leaning against the warhorse's shoulder and running a hand through his mane, knotted with blodoclots, silk threads and burrs. Wordlessly, he thanked Ogre for carrying him so far and so surely, and for guarding him when he fell. You, at least, have been a faultless companion. Ogre merely snorted and swung his heavy head against Lan, as if sending him on his way.

On entering the taproom he paused and glanced around, unthinkingly forcing the others to pile up at his back until he stepped forward again. His gaze was drawn to the auburn-haired woman and the merchants; she had the look of someone important who might receive a foreign guest, and the pass-phrase was grain-related, so seemed to suit those dry-goods trader-looking folk. First, though, was the matter of road dust coating his throat. Lan strode towards the bar, reaching into his purse and finding it parlously scant, though he gathered enough copper pennies to lay on the well-polished wood.

"Tap master! Five beers for five weary travellers. Ghorean brews, if you have them." He gave the man a significant look, but was then distracted as one of the cats leaped up onto the bar. Lan reached out to scratch it under the jaw and it decided it was play time, flopping onto its back and seizing his gauntlet in its paws, sharpening its back claws on his bracer as it bit and licked at his fingers. Lan smiled indulgently, tickling the marmalade tom's chin and belly.
May 21, 2025 3:39 am
Eager for an escape from the merchant that had him cornered, the barman gave a sharp nod and turned to collect five pewter tankards from hooks above the bar. "Of course m'lord. You, ah, look to have met with some trouble if you don't mind my saying. From where have you rode? Only folk who pass by here are travellers too and if there's danger about..." He left the question hanging as he hauled a fresh keg to from beneath the bar. "Would a Danaroenien stout be to your liking?"
May 21, 2025 3:41 am
"The roads are quite safe, unless one errs into the Spiderfell," Lancaelad said airily, as if a sojourn into an awnshegh's demesne was an everyday occurrence.

Fleetingly, he wished Pavel or Erron was still with the band. This sort of subterfuge would be right up their shady little alleys. He spoke, perhaps projecting his voice a bit too much to the room. "I suppose that they will cost more this season, aye, goodman? What with the price of barley and such? From Ghoere?" He gave the proprietor an intent, expectant look as the man filled the tankards with dark beer. It was a miracle he didn't furtively wink or waggle his eyebrows.
May 21, 2025 3:42 am
Supping greedily from the cup Rhoderick praises the brew. Then, with nod around the room he addresses the barkeep. "A mixed crowd you have, when did the tide bring them all in?"
May 21, 2025 3:43 am
The barman raised an eyebrow at Lan's mention of the Spiderfell, but didn't press the matter. Instead he scanned the room, taking stock of the slim array of patrons. The person serving the drinks always knew his patron's business - mainly because after a point in the night they offered it unprompted.

"A few drowning their sorrows, some others bound for the Free City. Cheaper to overnight here than to bribe your way through the gates after nightfall. Tannen over there's been here a few days-" he indicated the scarred mercenary "-but the rest are passing through."

As he spoke the man filled the five flagons, and he slammed the last onto the bar to settle the head (an oddly Heartlander habit) as he finished. "You came out of Ghoere then?"
May 21, 2025 3:44 am
Lan drunk deeply – many dinners at the baron's table as child had taught him not to quaff, which generally involved more spillage – and sighed as his parched throat was rinsed clean. He followed the barman's gaze to the scarred fellow, and his hand brushed the empty loop on his belt. He hadn't expected to feel so naked without his weapon in this nation of costermongers and merchants.

"From the Southern Coast," he said, perhaps unwisely if the Prince of Rabbits did indeed have long ears pricked in Halfday. Rhodri's question was a good one, and Lan followed up with: "Have you any regular visitors the past few days that are not present now?" He reached up and scratched at the puncture in his maille hauberk, wincing at the recent wound beneath. "Is there an armourer in town? A weaponsmithy?"
May 21, 2025 3:46 am
"In town?" the man asked. "You don't pass through Endier often then? Halfday has whatever you need. Yorden the blacksmith worked weapons once though I think he just trades in them now. As to armour, old Jofnehl Kjaensson at the garrison takers private commissions. I'm called Bartrem, mention my name should you take business to them - they'll see you right."

Bartrem chewed over the other part of Lan's question. "Not many stay long in Halfday. The nature of the place is that we're destination to few save those visiting the Monument. We had a group of Haelynite pilgrims gathering here who left yesterday. There's a spring Haelyn drank from on the march to Deismaar not far outside town and I think they were waiting for a few of their number before beginning their journey. They took a good number of our smaller rooms. Oh, and the folks from the Ald Essini Company are here as often as not." That last had the sound of a halfling house.
May 21, 2025 3:46 am
Corson looks at Lancaelad in response to the knight's unspoken question and gives the slightest shrug.
May 21, 2025 3:47 am
Rhoderick talks his cup and sits down across from the mercenary. "Have you been guarding the caravans? I hear the price of barley out of Ghoere is going to be high this season, did the caravan masters or merchants mention anything?"

He supped noisily again from his flagon. "It would be good to know what may be worth taking back on the return journey, make a bit of coin for the trip."
May 21, 2025 3:48 am
Focusing a chilly look on Rhoderick the man narrowed his deep-set eyes. "Listen neighbour," he said in a low monotone "I run the guards out of the Lorn Wastrel. If you and your motley lot are looking for a contract into Ghoere ride on to the Free City, and don't think I won't run you out of Halfday if I need to."

He paused and gave Rhoderick a meaningful look, searching the church warrior's face for some sign of accord. "Finish your drinks, but don't let me catch you plying your trade here."
May 21, 2025 3:48 am
"Apologies friend" grinned the Priest. "We’ll just be resting for the night and be on our way in the morn, Just trying to strike up a conversation." And stood to return to the bar.
May 21, 2025 3:49 am
While Rhoderick took the measure of the gruff mercenary the others made arrangements for rooms. While Lan was truly short of coin, a signet ring and a noble bearing was always enough to arrange a line of credit and the promise of a proper bath and a bed (albeit one stuffed with straw) was precisely what their aching bodies demanded.

The barman explained that the private dormitories were in a block of buildings across the yard from the taphouse, which only housed the common room (and would offer a view of the stables and the main gate). There was a bathouse off a more private courtyard belonging to the proprietors behind the stable near the cistern where the servants could draw a bath given notice and there was a venison stew with crusty bread and butter to be had for dinner.

A subtle enquiry suggested that there would be newcomers along at the end of the day, and a more crowded tradehouse might present both added security and difficulty if they were to wait out the last of the afternoon.
May 21, 2025 3:49 am
Corson leans up against the bar and says lowly to the others. "Let us get some rest. The agent will reveal themselves in time."
May 21, 2025 3:50 am
With a grimace as he rejoined the others Rhodri said "A rest would be good, normally he’d have been eating out of my hand, I
must look tired."
With his usual grin reappearing at that he readied to follow the others to quarters
May 21, 2025 3:52 am
With an hour or so before the caravans would end their day's travel there was time enough to retire to more private quarters until the evening meal was prepared, though Rhoderick and Corson both kept a close eye on the serving boy as they left - it shouldn't be hard to create some pretext by which to draw him off without attracting prying eyes. Tovrunn meanwhile focused on the more challenging task of decoying the pretty merchant somewhere where her measure could be taken. If the mercenary and barman had shaken suspicion then Corson's gut told him one of these two undoubtedly knew something.

It was an impression so profound as to be premonition.

Not willing to leave Adalric entirely unattended, they took four private rooms on the upper level of the dormitories that overlooked the yard. The rooms were comfortable - more than comfortable given the average wealth of the Endieran merchant class - with goosedown mattresses and porcelain pitchers of water for cleaning on a small table in each. Handwoven Tuor carpets adorned the floors and each chamber had a small writing desk and a supply of papyrus, ink, pen and a blotter. The north-facing shutters stood open, and along with a crisp breeze they offered a view of the distant City of Endier crouched darkly against the horizon and the riverstone-bounded highroad curving effortlessly through the plains like a fat black serpent.

Watching from the narrow outdoor landing that led to their doors, Tovrunn kept her pale eyes fixed casually on the bathouse. A lady who held her appearance in high regard would bathe before the evening meal, and she doubted that her mark would call a copper to her room if the comforts of the bathouse were on offer. Anuireans were an oddly modest folk, and baths tended to be taken in screened-off alcoves but it would be simplicity itself to happen to be awaiting her own bath when the merchant emerged and to share a few pleasantries unseen by any but perhaps a young maid.

Rhoderick meanwhile kicked off his dusty boots and slumped onto the soothing downiness of the bed. It was true that still-bleeding wounds, darkening bruises, dried blood and the rigours of days in the saddle had taken their toll on his mood and manner. He left Corson keeping watch - if the serving boy emerged on some errand or another they could likewise conspire to waylay him.

Lan had been battered worse than the others, and his armour was barely holding together. he was also convinced that the chain that he had liberated from the goblin tracer was more than mere woodling steel. There were enemies at their back, and it was not certain that they would be safe from reprisal simply because Adalric had been sent off to his eventual destination. Gods it would be good to be rid of the man, and free from this odd sense of obligation he couldn't quite explain.

Leaving Ogre to the hostlers (he wasn't certain that the foul-tempered charger wouldn't maul him if he were to try to re-saddle him so soon) he shouldered both suits of mail and trudged the quarter mile to Halfday to reach the armourer before the garrison shut its gates for the day.
May 21, 2025 3:56 am
Lancaelad stood in his room for a while after shedding his tattered maille skin, watching the distant turrets and gabled manse rooves of Endier. It was not the greatest city he had seen; the Freeport of Ilien was a short journey from Proudglaive, and he had visited the City of Anuire – that grand metropolis of islands, arching bridges and decaying Imperial grandeur from whence half the world had once been ruled – as a boy at his father's side. But it was great enough to smudge the horizon with the smoke of its industry and coin-grasping ambition. He imagined the Maesil, the Old Stone Tree of a river that wound through the ruins of empire like a heart-vein, dark with the rich soils of the Heartlands and bustling with barges and river-galleys.

The thought made him wince, and touch the ugly, puckered red wound in his sternum. His own heart-vein had been near enough pricked by goblin arrows, his life nearly spilled on the dirt of the Spider's demesne. The memory of the pain, of scuttling man-mockery shapes in the undergrowth with clever fingers and wicked bows prowling over him churned in his mind, then suddenly dropped into his belly. Lan bolted for the open window and hurled the stout, the scraps of food he had managed to down, the dregs of the medicinal elixir and a good measure of bile onto the courtyard below, earning his a curse from a passing merchant who was splashed by the bile. Lan waved dismissively at the man and pulled his head back inside, and wearily finished rinsing his mouth and washing himself with a copper of water and cloth. The dirt and grime and dried blood – so damn much blood, it was a wonder he had any left to run in his veins – came away, leaving only fatigue.

Gods, he was tired. Even All-Mighty Cuiraécen was said to rest after a good thundering storm. But Lancaelad's quest, and that of his companions, was not yet finished. This cloak-and-dagger business had seemed exciting when it was lying to Dieman garrisons and crooked little spymasters, spells of delusion and masked flights by night. But now he found himself wishing for more clear-cut and forthright dealings – he should be able to just flash his heraldry and demand that the factor here to meet Adalric Salien show themselves. It was all so vexing!

Passably clean, Lan slung the two corded-cup hauberks of maille over his shoulders like the world's least comfortable sleeping rolls and headed to the town and its smithy. As he left the inn he cast a rueful, wistful glance at Tovrunn. Their relationship had been amicable the last few days, but suddenly seemed to have chilled like a Rjurik winter. He had the vague idea that he was being held to blame for that, somehow. It was all so vexing!

At least he made it to the Halfday garrison building in good time, despite the burden. Lan puffed out his chest and straightened his spine as he approached the guards at the gate, who were leaning on their partisans and having a spirited discussion about the cock-fights that evening. "Fair eventide, soldiers. I am an errant knight, travelling about mine own business when I was waylaid by the rank goblins in yonder woods. My armour was grievously damaged in battle, and I am told your Rjurik smith can make it right. Told by... Bartrem, of the Lorn Wastrel. I would commission his services. Let me pass." It took him a moment to remember the innkeep's name, something he had filed away as of little import. He gave the men the slight, cocky smile of a man who had just casually declared why yes, I braved the Spiderfell and lived, what of it?
May 21, 2025 3:56 am
Corson sits, his back to the wall at a table in the corner so that he has a clear view of the common room. Keeping an eye on the people of note, he passes the time playing with a copper coin between his fingers...
May 21, 2025 3:57 am
It took perhaps twenty minutes of casual vigilance, but as was the nature of such things serving lads always found themselves on some errand or other before the evening crowd arrived. With the sinking sun in his eyes, Corson almost missed the lankey boy as he slipped from the back door of the taproom and made for what must be a wood shed. Firewood - that would do it. There was little chance that some observer had secreted themselves amongst the kindling to overhear their brief chat with the boy, and if he were a little long in getting back that would no doubt be chalked up to sloth.
Meanwhile Lan had reached the garrison with a spring in his step. Had a few days of harsh treatment steeled his muscles more than months spent in the sparring yard? The ache in his back and arse certainly suggested that the punishment his body had sustained, beyond the obvious, might well see him the stronger for it.

With his noble bearing and commanding manner, the guards were quick to recognise one of their betters. Though it was Rhoderick around whom the presence of divine blood most unmistakably all scions of had a certain distinction that common folk felt in their waters.

With a shallow bow the sergeant led him to the rear of the garrison where a small forge stood beneath a shingled awning. Here he presented Lan to a pale-skinned and red-headed giant, his bare arms blistered red by the sun and the forge, was quenching the fires for the day, shovelling white-hot embers together towards the back of the furnace with a short metal spade and wetting down the exposed stone from a bucket. His hair and apron were spotted black with scorch-marks and he reeked of smoke and burned steel.

"Hail and welcome m'lord" the man who must be Jofnehl Kjaensson greeted Lan with his own low bow "what service do ye seek at m'forge?"
May 21, 2025 3:59 am
Pleased at long last to be offered some apt deference, Lancaelad dropped first one, then the other roll of maille onto a bench with a heavy rasping clank. He rolled his aching shoulders and gestured for the man to straighten, glancing around the smithy with the eye of one who was familiar with metalwork - as a customer, if not a practitioner. He imagined his retainer Mhairie Corbierson would have found the facilities adequate, if not up to the standards of the fine forge she hoped to run herself.

"Master Kjaensson, is it?" his tongue butchered the Rjurik name almost as badly as it did 'Auðunardottir', without even the balm of familiarity. "The barman of the Lorn Wastrel commended your skills to me as a man who can mend the wounds hard-fought battle leaves in metal." He turned over his own hauberk, revealing the broken links fringing the puncture below the gorget-piece. "Can you make this arright? If you can make it battle-worthy again swiftly, the Knights of the Black Hart may have more commissions for you, should our business bring us this side of the Spider again." Lan was speaking with an authority he did not possess for an order he was not (yet) a part of, but the promise of attending to the war-dress of knights instead of common infantry might stir the man's pride. He was in Endier, though, so perhaps more motivated by coin.

He gestured at the second suit of armour. "I would also seek your knowledge on this trifling trophy. I took it from a goblin spidercavalryman, though it seemed too fine a piece for their work. Can you identify its provenance?"
May 21, 2025 3:59 am
Corson, saw the opportunity, but was well aware that he could be intimidating, opted to go to get the priest. Making a bit of haste, taking the stair two at a time, the squire rapped lightly on Rhoderick's door. "It is time. The boy is heading out back."
May 21, 2025 4:00 am
With a sigh the Priest pushed his tousled curls back and followed Corson back down the stairs. Leaning against the doorway he waited for the serving boy to reappear from the woodshed
May 21, 2025 4:00 am
The little woodshed was narrow and deep, crammed as it was into an alleyway between two stone buildings and consisting of little more than a rough shingle roof and a pair of heavy doors. In an effort to appear casual Corson and Rhoderick took up a position a couple of yards away, between the shed and the taproom but as they did the warrior-priest, whose brief rest had been both a blessing and a curse since it only underscored the aches in his muscles and wounds, caught what sounded like a brief snatch of hushed conversation. Was it just the boy? No. There were two distinct voices, with one being the adolescent murmur he'd expect and the other, though higher pitched, was undoubtedly that of a grown man.

Before he could alert Corson or make much of his thoughts the lad emerged with an armful of logs and seemed surprised to find two armoured and still-bloodied men baring his way.
Jofnehl put aside Lan's hauberk without examination, offering only a businesslike nod, but as he accepted the suit of filthy mail the smith pursed his full lips. "Ye'r raiment I can make a'new m'lord. Ye hail from an order a ways distant, but so lofty a patron would yet honer m'forge. This though..." he fingered the links of the mail with a touch more delicate than his thick frame suggested possible.

"This be old lord. Older than the Gods I'd wager. Tis sidhe, but not sidhe like I've seen a'fore. And to be untouched by the centuries? Mayhap there's sorcery about it? Where came ye by such a treasure lord?"
May 21, 2025 4:01 am
Corson leans against the outside wall, leaving Rhoderick to speak to the lad...
May 21, 2025 4:03 am
"Boy, you hear much in the tap room I wager, have you heard the price of barley out of Ghoere is going to be high this season, did the caravan masters or merchants mention anything?

Absentmindedly grinning at the nervous boy whilst keeping an eye on the door to the shed. His eyes then focussed back on the anxious lad and the the grin tightened as the Priest concentrated all of the force of his divinity into that grin. "And why do some wait in the shed rather than the tap room?"
May 21, 2025 4:03 am
The lad's brows unknotted as the force of Rhoderick's divine blood washed over him - an invisible benevolence that bathed the hearts of mortal men. His bony shoulders lowered and he smiled unbidden. "I don't talk much t'merchants bout such things ser, only me da ses I ain't got the mind fer'it." He looked sheepish, and his face reddened. "And t'ain't no one else in there ser, I swear by Haelyn an'all."
May 21, 2025 4:04 am
Rhoderick placed his hand on the boys shoulders and crouched so they were at the same eye level. "Now lad, you know you can trust me, it’ll be just between us." He kept the simple boy between himself and the door, his legs coiled beneath him, ready to spring to action if someone hostile came out the shed.
May 21, 2025 4:08 am
Uncertain but still with a smile on his face that was vapid with Rhoderick's enthralling blood, the boy glanced behind him and lowered his voice. "T'ain't no person in there, I swear it." His voice took on a playful tone. "S'just a bit of fun. Lotsa folk give us a coin'r two t'watch the comings and goings here. No harm in it. When I saw you come in I knew you was the ones."

He jerked his head toward the back of the little firewood store. "See fer yerself."
May 21, 2025 7:19 am
With a forced chuckle the Neserite spun the boy back towards the woodshed.

The ones? The one I am is the one who needs some sleep. What ones are you talking about?

He began walking the boy back to the lean to, with a hand on his shoulder and the other grasping the haft of his wickedly curved mace

No person there but folks give you coins? I do love a riddle youngling

As they approached the structure the Priest nodded to Corson to approach as well
Last edited May 21, 2025 7:20 am
May 21, 2025 5:34 pm
Corson steps up and follows, wary for a trap.
May 21, 2025 7:48 pm
The smith's confidence and deference were welcome, and Lan nodded in satisfaction. When Kjaensson's attention turned to the second suit of links, the young knight felt a frisson of excitement raise the hairs on the nape of his neck. "Elf-mail, you say? I thought it too fine for goblin-make, let alone to be worn by one of those swinish creatures. Mayhaps it is a trophy taken at the battle of Deismaar, long ago, when the elves fought alongside, then against the servants of Azrai? The panoply of some elven warrior-prince, reduced to the hand-me-down garb of one of the Spider's foul mock-knights, at last reclaimed by a knight of quality again." Lan stroked the wondrous maille, smooth as silk yet strong as any steel, fantasising about its storied history. And enchanted, to boot? He would have to hope to cross paths with Pavel again, or else submit it to some other wizard for study.

"Well, Master Kjaensson, you have proven your worth most aptly!" Lan scooped up the elf-mail, cradling it to his chest like a child's favourite rag-doll. "Mend the damage to my armour, and I will commend your skills most highly to any knight in need, and there will be a place for you in the castle forges of Blacktower in Roesone if you ever tire of shoeing merchant horses and polishing pikes for the rank and file." He paused before recollecting: "I suppose you've heard nothing of the price of barley from Ghoere this season?"

If the smith's answer was negative or bewildered, Lan was prepared to head back to the Lorn Wastrel.
May 22, 2025 1:52 pm
Kjaensson merely shook his crimson braids at Lan's enquiry, though he had the grace not to look askance at the odd non sequitur. Leaving his armour in the care of the smith, and marvelling at his new prize, Lan made his way out of the barracks and into the sunset streets of Halfday.

Caravan towns were at their most bustling at dawn and dusk when travellers made to find rest at the end of a long day before continuing their journey, and so the streets were still crowded. Lamplighters hoisted glowing lanterns onto posts along the street while wagons and their dusty attendants made their way from the gates deeper into the town.

Moving against the flow of traffic, Lan found himself blocked or jostled now and then but it was seldom so egregious to rouse the fiery nobleman's ire. Still, as he drew within a few yards of the gate he found himself forced to wait as a particularly wide-axeled cart manoeuvred into the town. While he did a ragged beggar emerged from an alcove in the gatehouse where a raw-boned hound still slept and, noting the knight's garb shuffled over with his cup in hand, eyes tactfully averted. "Spare a coin m'lud? To send me abed with a full belly" he asked plaintively.

Something in the whole sequence felt uncannily... familiar.
May 22, 2025 2:02 pm
The woodshed was dark by contrast to the encroaching dusk - the serving boy had doused the candle before exiting (it still smoked atop a jutting flagstone in one wall) which left pools of murky shadow everywhere. It was indeed as deep as it had looked from the outside as well, stretching back perhaps twenty log-cluttered feet to the stone wall that ringed the whole tradehouse. By the rotting double doors a hefty axe leaned.

There was only space enough to advance in single file, and so they went in first the boy, then Rhoderick at his back, and Corson at the rear, picking their way around haphazard piles of firewood and crunching on the bark-strewn floor until they reached the very rear of the narrow alley-turned-shed. Here the boy gestured high up the wall to a stone outlined by the orange glow of sunset.

"See?" he asked simply, aiming a thumb at the loose stone, dumb grin still stretched across his face so wide it must surely ache before long. "No one in here."
May 22, 2025 2:49 pm
Rhoderick gestures to the stone for Corson to look as he clasps the boy to his chest and crows

Oho, you are a clever lad! And I just bet a lad as quick and clever as you has managed to sneak a peak at the person you talk to! What do they look and sound like?
May 22, 2025 4:59 pm
Corson nods and moves to check the outlined stone, still unsure about this...
May 22, 2025 6:49 pm
The elven mail was marvellously light tossed over his shoulder, which was part of the reason Lancaelad felt a lift in his step as he left the garrison's smithy. The rest of his elevated mood was from the realisation that the prize he'd wrested from the spider-rider was more remarkable and storied than even he had hoped. True, it was not an Anuirean knight's hauberk, not the armour of a companion of Roele or Haelyn Himself, but it had grand pedigree and provenance none the less. What rhymes with maille? Arrows fell like hail, armour did not fail, heart did not quail...

The young knight barely sighed in irritation at the obstruction at the gate, and when the beggar shuffled out to wheedle at him he raised a fist to backhand the man away... then paused and dipped into his belt pouch, fishing out a gold half-crown and tossing it to rattle in the man's cup. "Fortune flows from on high, pauper," he said cheerfully. He didn't spare the man a second glance, or listen to any inward murmurs of suspicion about the exposure of his situation.
OOC:
Personal Perception check to see if Lan is suspicious about an ambush - he's not, of course. AC currently 13 (quilted undercoat, Dex and Defence) if it matters, which he's sure it won't!
Last edited May 22, 2025 6:55 pm

Rolls

Perception - (1d20-1)

(7) - 1 = 6

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