RP Session 2: "To the Mattresses"

Lancaelad had been hanging at the rear of the party as they departed the age-hallowed battleground, his hood pulled high around his face. Half the time his gaze was on the muddy path behind them; the other half it was on Adalric Salien, looking wary and thoughtful.

When squire Corson lead them ably to the ford, Lan was prepared to cross first and tie a rope to the trees on the opposite bank to guide the others across, but they forged ahead without him. Seething at the missed opportunity to prove his valour, he instead rode up to Salien. "If it pleases you, Master Salien, allow me to take your reins and lead your horse," he said defferentially. Salien seemed to have been consumed with the rusted relics he had dragged from the mud, and merely nodded.

Guiding Ogre to the ford, the warhorse's reins in one hand, those of Salien's courser into the other, Lan rode into the saddle-deep flow.

Grinning at the noble in the dirt but embarrassed by his fall in crossing the calm waters Rhoderick studied the faster fork determined to not be shown up again.

Slowly, calmly Rhoderick went to the party to warn them of the watcher on the hills. Stooping to the fallen noble to prevent a reaction from his fall.

"I can make a fog bank to cloak our crossing but at only a limited amount so it would probably draw more attention than not. I know not if they are an innocent traveller but I cannot reach them so far away."

Corson nodded. "Let us make our way across first, then worry about our nosy onlooker. Ser Lancaelad, shall we cross first?"

There was nothing playful about the man's words, no mirth in his eyes as he slid from his saddle and took the reins of his steed, wading into the frigid waters once again.

Rhoderick eyed the squire. He seemed much more confident in the wilds, and wondered if the knight would notice he had been given an order.

He readied his horse to follow the two others into the second crossing whilst keeping an eye on the horseman on the hill.

Mhairie sighed as she and the rest of the entourage watched Lancaelad fail to wrangle the two horses and end up in the river mud and nearly trampled. She'd have a fiend of a job scrubbing half the silt of the Black River out of his maille, and their liege knight would doubtless be even less pleasant company than usual after such a humiliating tumble.

Lan rose from the mud caked in dark slurry and drifting debris from head to toe, looking like some half-mythical wood wose. His teeth chattered from the sudden cold dip but his face burned a bright enough scarlet that steam seemed to rise from his collar. He struggled to his knees with the weight of his saturated cloak and tabard, and when Rhoderick spoke to him he seemed about to snarl out a stream of invective – but something about the priest's purposeful demeanour made him pause. His gaze followed that of Rhoderick and Corson, and after some searching he glimpsed the rider on the hill.

There was nothing for it but to push forwards. The islet was not large enough to hold them all a-mount and the wagon. It was possible that the figure was a vedette for the royal army or a messenger – but it might also be a scout for the mercenaries hunting them. There was no way to tell, and little choice about their approach.

"Yes, we cross. Circle around to the left and right flanks when you reach the bank – I will ride straight towards him. If he flees it will drive him towards one of you, or I will run him down the middle." Lancaelad tried to make it sound as if the idea to press on was his own, and wore haughtiness as a frail mask for dignity as he hauled himself back into the saddle. Ogre snorted and shook his flanks and mane, not liking the cold, dripping rider clinging to his back, but Lan grasped the reins tight and followed Corson across, gesturing for Rhoderick to follow.

Rhoderick started to circle around to the left of the watcher after fording the river fork.

A soft snort interrupted the soft droning coming from Tovrunn. Ever since they had made landfall on the inlet, the druid had decided that it might be worth her while to adopt the language of the beasts of land and sky. Doubly so once Rhoderick had pointed out the mysterious stranger up on the ridge watching them. Thankfully the crossing of the wagon had given her enough time that she did not feel the need to exert herself.

Ordinarily she wouldn't interfere with Lancaelad and his attempts to wrangle his horse, but Ogre was showing more backbone than was warranted and now threatened their entire group. That she could not allow.

"Ogre," she said to the horse, drawing her own animal near to the two in their struggle, "be a dear and cross for us? A brave stallion like you should be at the front of our herd to watch for danger. Besides, there's better grazing on that hillock."

Tovrunn nods understandably. "I can certainly relate to a certain lack of commitment," she said, just as much to herself as to Ogre. "Well, he will learn. But now isn't the time to be a challenge. Let's get across the river, and then you can remove him from your back."

To Lancaelad, whom she is sure is thinking her off for speaking to his horse, she said, "He says that you need to push him."

Lancaelad pushed his weight forward in the saddle, trying to get the obstinate brute beneath him to understand forward. His face was mottled with indignation and humiliation as Ogre stood his ground, oblivious to the shifting of his rider and tugs of the reins.

The young knight shot a glance at Tovrunn as she advised him - him! - on how to ride a damnable horse, something he'd been doing since he could walk, and nearly said something regrettable. But her words struck through his pigheadedness by their sheer strangeness. "He said...?" Of course, Aeric moved in mysterious ways, and conversing with beasts of the field was no great feat for one of his priests. Push him, was it? It was true, Lan had been handling the destrier with kid gloves, afraid to bring such a fine piece of horseflesh back to its owner bruised or wearied. But Ogre was after all a weapon of war, not some lady's prancing, highstepping rouncey. He could handle a firm hand.

"Yah!" Lan exhorted, applying the spurs more firmly to the beast's flanks - and then yelped in surprise as Ogre surged confidently forward. Delighted to be moving again, he aimed his mount towards the silhouette atop the hill and cracked the reins.

Without looking to Rhoderick, Corson asked "any reaction from our observer? Let me know if he begins coming our direction."

Lancaelad grunted in relief as he felt Ogre rouse into a trot and climb the far bank of the river. Soaked to the bone, plastered in mud, leaves and bits of twig he reflected that he must make quite the sight as he bore down on the watchful rider atop the hill. There would be no recognising him as a nobleman, at least.

Eyeing the distance, the young knight decided that there was no sense in the wagon and its passengers waiting for them on the eyelet. If the figure did signal some ill-intentioned compatriots, it would be better for the wheels to be on firm ground that struggling in the mud of the riverbed. He pulled firmly on the reins, and was gratified to find that Ogre turned easily enough, with only a snort of annoyance.

"My lady!" he called back through a cupped hand. "Guide the wagon across the ford!"

At Lancaelad's beckoning, Tovrunn nodded and popped the reins. "Come along Fegrð," she said to her horse. "It's time to cross. Carefully now."

As he cantered towards the watcher Rhoderick waved at him with a friendly grin.