RP Session 1: "A Hart's Errand"

Corson nodded toward the door, the warrior specifically facing said portal. "They went out for air, I would guess."

Corson couldn't help but smile briefly at the merriment outside, but returned to his conversation with Salien. "Things will be okay. We will get you to safety. I do wish we could figure out why you were summoned... it would give us an idea of how to obfuscate our travel."

"Went out for air?" Tovrunn repeated, somewhat put back. Did they somehow miss the danger they were still potentially in? Looking out the window as revelers passed them by, Tovrunn's mood settled into a worried exasperation. I'll give them an hour. After that one of us needs to go looking for them.

Putting her fiance and his friend out of her mind for the moment, she settled down and refocused on Salien. "Perhaps we can puzzle it out ourselves. Care to tell us about your family, Salien?"

Adalric gave a shuddering sigh, his face in his hands and his elbows on the table. That seemed enough to steady his thoughts. "My family? Where to begin? It's not a large one. My great grandparents on my mother's father's side purchased their freehold from Suiriene perhaps a century ago, the lease was for five generations. Before that they were coffee merchants. My mother was an only child, and she was the third generation to hold the land, making me the fourth. My father came from a line of sailors who traded with the Dragon Isles. I've lost both parents, but I have a half dozen aunts and uncles on my father's side and most of them make their living on the sea. My uncle Gerric still knows the way to the Dragon Isles, but his sisters aunty Haylia and aunty Maylen married men with fishing boats, and my uncle Chlōdmun dives for pearls."

"My parents met at market, their marriage was negotiated by their families, but both were older than I am now. Mother passed three years ago, and father's been gone for at least five. No, wait, longer. I had an older brother - Baird - but he fell in with a rough crowd. Last I heard he was sailing with a privateer crew out of Aftane. He'd rather a life of blood and fire than one of soil and sweat. I don't even know that he knows our parents are gone."

"I am unwed, and my steward keeps reminding me that I have a fine lease to pass on - one that's quite prized - but I'm still finding my feet running things on my own. I couldn't teach a son or daughter the skills they'd need. Not yet." He spread his hands "what could any of that possibly mean to anyone but me?"

"Hmmm..."

Leaning back off the table from the position of apt attention she had adopted as she listened to the man tell his tale, Tovrunn crossed her arms and considered all that he had said. His words did not taste a lie to her, and he had little reason to be anything but truthful as far as she could tell. But what to make of it all?

Weighing his words, she focused on the holes that he had left out or alluded to. Could his brother, the pirate, envious of his lease be responsible for the violence on the docks? Perhaps, yes, but that did not explain the smugglers words nor the small army they scarcely avoided in Abbadiel. Perhaps one of his relatives that he hadn't mentioned was of some importance even he was unaware of? But who? And how far up his family tree would such an inheritance be of any substance? Tovrunn was still new to these lands, and as apt as she had become navigating their court she still did not fully understand how these southerners weighed the value of blood relations. Lancaelad would know...

Without meaning to Tovrunn glanced at the door.

"...I must admit, while I'm grateful for the tale, from what you've told me, it isn't the clue to this riddle that I had hoped for," Tovrunn admitted after a moments silence, and with a good deal more empathy than she had shown anyone else this day. "It's a terrible riddle to be caught in the middle of. But for what it's worth, you should know that you being here on these faraway shores is no accident. Nor is our commission to seeing you across this fair country, or our commitment to your safety. Whatever else is to happen, know that, and take heart in it. I would encourage patience, counsel that you keep open eyes, ears, and mind, and hope for your trust."

Again, Tovrunn glanced at the door. Which remained frustratingly, maddeningly still.

Tovrunn could take no more. "Oh by the gods, what's taking him so long?!" she demanded, standing with a huff. Though, the more discerning of audiences might question to themselves: was it anger that drove her words...or concern.

It was not the first time Tovrunn had shot a furtive glance at the door. They'd been attacked and pursued scarce hours earlier, and now two of their number thought it prudent to take a stroll? The it seemed inconceivable that the gravity of their situation could be so easily overlooked. And yet when, only a moment after she turned away, the heavy door sung open it still came as a surprise.

From the chill night Aeric stepped into the light of the inn, bracing himself against the doorframe. As the light fell on the young noble's face they could see that it was ashen and slick with sweat, the pupils dilated until his eyes were almost black.

Pressing his free hand against his brow, Aeric stumbled forward a few steps, lost his footing and made a snatch for the nearest chair. But the furnishings weren't up to his dead weight, and it gave way underneath him sending the magician, chair, the table and its contents to the floor with a crash.

Corson scanned the room first, to make sure that no one was going to capitalize on the distraction...

"Aeric? Aeric?!"

Rushing over to the man, she gave as quick and thorough an assessment as she could. She was no healer by trade, but she was at least familiar with the process. "Aeric. Speak to me. What's wrong??"

Breuddwyd took note of Aeric's dramatic re-entry but was hesitant to charge over. He recognized a possible use of the Wounded Soldier strategy when he saw it. No one grew up under the same roof as Dyddanwy without learning a thing or two about crushing the spirits and sowing chaos among an organized, entrenched and vigilant foe. Any adversary lurking within the taproom or beyond these walls could be waiting for the perfect moment, while backs were turned and desperate acts of healing were invoked, to strike. He might try the same thing in their position. And no Sidhe would be caught unawares among this lowborn human rabble.

Glancing from Tovrunn to Corson, Breuddwyd decided to make an educated guess, trying a connection between their minds. From the old faith and affiliations the modest human warrior had mentioned earlier, it actually seemed possible he might have some comprehension of the intricacies in the Sidhelien language.

**We are no healers. You and I.** The elven words appeared inside Corson's mind as Breuddwyd made an effort to keep his own guard up, spells at the ready. **Something unseen. And wicked. Is at work. Watch for trouble. I am with you.** The off-putting rhythm of the pronunciation was like the stertorous breaths of some forest beast best left concealed in shadow and straining to keep its appetites from bursting free.

He could not see Arglwyddes at the moment but he had no doubt the valiant and clever animal would be exactly where she needed to be when the time was right.

"Sur-surrounded" rasped Aeric as he met Tovrunn's eyes with a glassy stare, then with a sudden thrashing urgency "the windows!" He struggled to rise, but Aeric's legs woundn't cooperate and he sprawled back into the fallen furnishings. "They offered surrender. Cure. Passage." Aeric slumped back, the force of his words alone enough to exhaust him.

Tovrunn's eyes went wide at Aeric's words. Surrounded? Here? But...

Leaving her charge for the moment, Tovrunn made her way to the nearest window facing the same direction as the door, peering carefully out into the darkness.

"Antidote" rasped Aeric, dark veins standing out at his temples "in trade for him." And he writhed onto his back and pointed a shaking finger at Salien before violently twisting back into the foetal position with a groan of pain.

Flinching backwards as a projectile embedded itself beside her head, Tovrunn looked at her traveling companions with an increasingly widening fear. Not here! Not now! We're at the verge of exhaustion! We should have crossed country instead of following the roads! Stupid stupid stupid!

Forcing herself to take deep breaths to calm herself, Tovrunn considered her move. Finally she locked eyes with Breuddwyd. "What do you have left that's useful?" she barked, all pretense of decorum lost in a barely controlled panic. "Do you need to see Lancaelad in order to speak to his mind?"

Breuddwyd watched with little reaction as the quarrel failed to find its mark between Tovrunn's eyes. Her pale hair framed by the window would make her an easy target indeed. Aeric's suffering must have been hampering her judgment. It was then that the soft but assertive edicts left his familial predecessors arose in his mind and the debt he owed that stricken man through blood came into focus.

"My full mystic might is flagging this night," he admitted to the northerner as he darted forward, staying low between the tables. "But a Sidhe is never without defenses. Presuming their minds can be broken and their flesh turned to ash."

Crouching down, Breuddwyd did a quick count of the windows visible from that spot, wondering how many directions they might guard against. And for how long.

"I must lay eyes upon a being to join my thoughts to theirs," he confirmed softly, privately examining possible but risky strategies others might not consider. Was it even remotely credible to imagine the braying, belligerent beast of burden that was Lancaelad understanding elegant Sidhelien words whispered directly into that vast emptiness between his ears?

"How long will he survive like this?" he asked of Aeric with subdued but genuine concern.

Now's as good a time as any. Corson fished into a pouch producing a handfull of bright red berries. "If anyone falls, give them one of these. This is a blessing of the wode that I can produce, but once a dawnbreak. Sadly, I can do nothing for our friend."

Corson gave him a look and cycled through his memory to see if there was something he could do to spare Aeric.

"Boy," Corson calmly addresses the serving boy. "Get me a kitchen knife, and hurry."

Turning to address the girl, Corson's face softened a bit. "I need water boiled and some clean cloth. Can you do that for me?"